In 1839, not long before President Donald Trump’s favorite president, Andrew Jackson, died, an admirer offered him an ancient roman sarcophagus, thought to have once held the remains of an emperor. Jackson, declined the offer, saying, “my republican feelings and principles forbid it.” There may be a lesson here.
Since Trump returned to the White House just over a year ago, it seems like every single day something new is being named after him. The Kennedy Center, the Institute of Peace building, a new class of battleship, the Palm Beach airport and, who are we kidding, eventually the White House ballroom.
Meanwhile, a giant banner featuring Trump’s stern features was placed on the Department of Justice this week, not the first public building to be adorned with the visage of the president glaring down at us.
It all seems to have gone a bit too far, but not for the reasons generally cited. Instead, the pure quantity of Trump-branded government buildings is starting to diminish the meaning and impact of all of them.
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To be clear, there is no risk of a major political backlash from voters as Trump’s name and image get plastered around Washington like posters for a Dave Matthews Band concert. People who hate him call it “Dear Leader” fascism and people who love him takes selfies. Everyone else just shrugs and says, “Well, that’s Trump.”
Culturally, the question of whether naming everything after yourself is crass or unseemly is subjective and a matter of personal taste. As a priority to voters, it falls somewhere below good taste in music.
And after all, every city has its John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. boulevards, though, in fairness, they were killed, which is a major advantage if your goal is getting stuff named after you.
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No, the real question is whether this avalanche of eponymous enterprises are burnishing, or diminishing, the president’s legacy, and in the far-seeing eyes of history, very often, less is more.
I get it, Trump spent his whole life making buildings grow out of the ground so he could slap his name on them, big as life and usually in gold. It is an admirable and very human impulse to leave something lasting.
The president was very good at leaving his mark. Trust me, I lived in New York City for 20 years, and you really can’t miss it. But now it turns out that all of that glass and steel is flimsy and impermanent compared to Trump the man, who, say what you will, will be spoken of and debated for centuries.
It is not in flinty metal or in the cold plastic of physical reality where Trump’s true legacy must now be forged. Rather, it is in the invisible fire of the future, where the man, not the buildings will be judged.
Trump has the immortality shot, with his bold vision not just in America but around the globe. He stands to be the most consequential figure of the early 21st century. We don’t need to name every county courthouse and 1-95 rest stop after him.
Throwing your name up everywhere in giant fonts is actually exactly the kind of eccentric behavior that gets mocked for thousands of years. Like Caligula threatening to make his horse a consul of Rome, it will be used by many to suggest narcissistic mania in Trump, because it already is used that way.
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Trump is never going to be the modest Abe Lincoln type with the shawl and aw shucks, “Nobody will remember my speech,” attitude. That’s cool, his braggadocio is fun. But I don’t want to live in a world where I check my Trump watch to see if it’s time for a Trump burger on my way to Trump airport.
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As it turned out, “Old Hickory” Andrew Jackson would be buried in a plain pine box, though the ancient treasure he declined is still housed by the Smithsonian. And instead of paying homage to him through a marble masterpiece, we keep little pictures of him in our pockets.
More importantly, our current commander in chief still draws on Jackson’s strength and values to this very day, fancy Roman sarcophagus or not.
The more things we name after Trump, the less it means, and the more it feels forced, when it needn’t be. Nobody, including Trump, has to convince us that he is a figure of historical magnitude. Seeing that advertised again and again starts to make it all seem a little bit cheapened.
