As Donald Trump proposes costly redesigns for Washington, DC, the question emerges: When do grand projects benefit the public — and when do they serve the leader?
The phrase "vanity project" is currently trending.
It often comes up whenever US President Donald Trump puts forward another idea for a pricey architectural overhaul of Washington, DC.
From a $100 million (€86 million) triumphal arch, to a billion‑dollar ballroom at the White House, or a $13 million renovation of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, each suggestion reignites the queries: What qualifies as a political vanity project? And what motivates leaders to pursue them?
Key characteristics of vanity projects
To begin with, not every large‑scale or costly undertaking — across different time periods or nations — qualifies as a vanity project.
Esra Akcan, a professor of architecture at Cornell University, notes that while architecture frequently serves multiple and sometimes conflicting practical, social, governmental, and symbolic purposes — making definitions of the "vanity project" concept inherently ambiguous — it is ultimately intention that separates public benefit from political vanity.
"While it is hard to respect any vanity project, a political vanity project should raise more opposition, because it would involve a situation when a leader uses his position and tax money to build a monument that fulfills his own ego, rather than a public service," Akcan told DW.
For her, the most obvious red flag is when scale becomes the objective rather than the result, "when grandeur and bigness become the main driving force of design rather than an answer for a need."
In other words, one must examine who ultimately gains — and who is excluded from that vision. State‑funded initiatives that deliver equitable social housing, public squares and parks, or schools and universities to citizens "are very different programs from oversized and gated governmental palaces which are built for a ruler's family and friends and which extract a country's resources for a limited ruling elite."
Solidifying power
Historically, leaders across various eras have employed monumental architecture to convey authority, legitimacy, or national identity.
Akcan highlights how 20th‑century totalitarian regimes in Germany, Italy, and the former Soviet Union adopted overtly monumental styles to project power both domestically and internationally.
For example, Adolf Hitler's Chancellery in Berlin, the Zeppelinfeld rally grounds in Nuremberg, and the unbuilt People's Hall — a dome designed to hold 180,000 people — were intended to overwhelm through sheer magnitude.
Hitler's architect, Albert Speer, recalled in his 1969 memoir "Inside the Third Reich" that "He wanted the biggest of everything to glorify his works and magnify his pride." Consequently, Speer drew inspiration from the ancient, stepped Pergamon Altar — excavated in what is now modern‑day Turkey and reconstructed in Berlin — and enlarged it for the vast Zeppelinfeld used during Nazi rallies.
In 17th‑century France, Louis XIV transformed a former hunting lodge at Versailles into one of Europe's largest palace complexes. Its design positioned the king literally at the palace's center, and court life revolved around him — from daily routines to political decisions. Versailles made his central role unmistakable.
Certain modern leaders have also referenced ancient precedents like the pyramids to justify ambitious projects. However, Akcan warns against oversimplifying history.
"Putting modern state‑funded projects and ancient monuments such as pyramids in the same category is a false equivalency," she says, noting that pyramids were part of entirely different belief systems and politico‑economic structures.
Instead, she contends that modern leaders often appropriate architecture from earlier periods to lend credibility to projects driven by personal or political ambition.
Not confined to monuments or memorials
Today, architecture serves as a tool through which leaders shape political identity and legacy — not only through individual monuments, but occasionally through entire urban concepts.
"Many leaders are driven by ego and the desire to leave a tangible legacy on the largest possible scale. They are not content to leave monuments or architecture behind — creating an entire city is the ultimate display of power and is a physical manifestation of ideology," says Sarah Moser, a professor of geography at McGill University and a leading expert on new capitals.
City‑building is "always inherently political," Moser adds, because cities are highly visible public undertakings. She notes that states outside the West have used new cities to brand themselves or signal a new political era.
She points to Masdar City in Abu Dhabi, promoted as the world's first zero-carbon and zero-waste city, which attracted global interest and helped rebrand the capital of the United Arab Emirates as "hypermodern and technologically sophisticated," even after some original plans were scaled back.
In Myanmar, the master‑planned capital, Naypyidaw, incorporates Buddhist imagery on government buildings. Moser says this visual language presents the state as grounded in a singular religious identity, noting that such design choices can signal inclusion for some groups while implicitly excluding others, including the Muslim Rohingya minority.
Moser adds that leaders have long used entire cities to express political vision or personal legacy. Peter the Great founded St. Petersburg in 1703 to serve as Russia's "window to Europe"; Brasília signaled a modern, post‑colonial identity; and Astana reflects Nursultan Nazarbayev's vision for Kazakhstan through a mix of monumental scale, ethnic symbolism, and futuristic architecture.
The issue of due diligence
Meanwhile, Akcan warns that democracies are increasingly adopting methods once linked to more centralized systems of power.
"Recently, countries habitually associated with democracy are using architectural tactics from the authoritarian playbook," she says, pointing to the weakening of due process.
High‑budget, highly visible projects have been advanced without open competitions, broad participation, or institutional consensus. "Another worrisome fact is that many of these projects breach the laws and violate the zoning codes and regulations of their own legal systems," Akcan adds, citing Recep Tayyip Erdogan's governmental palace, Ak Saray, as an example.
Trump's own plans for Washington, D.C. have also encountered resistance from preservationists, planners, and cultural institutions. For Moser, any changes to Washington D.C. will inevitably face close examination, given its symbolic importance for American national identity.
"The intentions behind the 'face lift' and the money spent on it are a sort of bellwether for the values and modes of governing for the rest of the country," she says. Trump's proposals, she argues, are "a power play intended to test his allies, show his political strength, and leave a lasting legacy."
Edited by: Elizabeth Grenier