So… Are the White House Renovations Actually a Big Deal?

From Bull Moose to the Ballroom

Washington, D.C., USA. Published on June 24, 2020. NIKON CORPORATION, NIKON D3000. Free to use under the Unsplash License. Photo by Tabrez Syed on Unsplash.

There’s a lot of chatter about the White House renovations happening right now. Some folks are horrified: “How dare anyone touch the Rose Garden or build a ballroom on sacred ground?”

Others shrug it off as just more outrage bait in an era that churns it out by the minute.

And yeah, I get it. Anti-Trump hysteria is a genre unto itself.

But I also find myself wondering: is this just more noise, or is there something actually worth paying attention to here?

Presidents have always left their mark on the White House. They move furniture, replant gardens, swap curtains, and knock down walls. It’s expected. The place isn’t a museum; it’s a living building with a very high-profile tenant. So when I first heard the complaints, I rolled my eyes a bit. But then I started thinking: this one does feel different. Not just in taste (though the Mar-a-Lago meets Versailles vibe is certainly… distinctive), but in what it says about the presidency itself.

(Generative AI)

That took me back to another guy who gave the White House a serious glow-up: Theodore Roosevelt. In 1902, he brought in the hottest architects of the day, McKim, Mead & White, to rip out decades of clutter and Victorian weirdness. He got rid of the old greenhouses, added the West Wing, and made the place actually function as a modern executive office. Up until then, presidents worked out of a few cramped rooms upstairs. TR turned the presidency into a machine—efficient, centralized, and powerful. The kind of operation that matched a country stepping onto the world stage.

And this wasn’t just home improvement. It was a message.

Roosevelt was announcing that the presidency, and by extension, America, wasn’t some genteel holdover from the 18th century. It was a 20th-century force. Industrial, muscular, professional. Teddy wasn’t just a president; he was a brand. The renovations made that clear.

Now jump ahead a century and change, and here we are again. Another showman president, another round of significant White House changes. Only this time, the symbolism hits differently. The concrete paths through the Rose Garden, the rumored new ballroom, and the general aesthetic shift toward spectacle are notable features.

It’s not about efficiency or modernization. It’s about performance.

Trump’s not the first president to play the role of national celebrity. But he might be the first to treat the White House like a soundstage. The garden isn’t for strolling; it’s for striking a pose. The ballroom isn’t about diplomacy; it’s for events that feel more like campaign rallies or personal branding exercises. It’s less about governance, more about vibes.

And here’s where it gets tricky: this isn’t just a Trump thing. It’s where we are as a country. Trump didn’t invent the idea of a performative presidency. He just leaned into it with zero shame. He’s a product of our times: cable news, reality TV, Instagram filters, and conspiracy threads. If Roosevelt built the White House to look like a command center, Trump is turning it into a content hub.

So what does that say about us?

Roosevelt renovated during a moment when America was rising: industrializing, expanding, getting serious about being a global power. The public was starting to expect more from government: accountability, reform, maybe even a square deal. TR’s changes reflected that shift.

They said, “We’re not playing around anymore.”

Trump’s renovations hit in a very different moment: one where faith in government is at historic lows, where institutions feel hollowed out, and where the political class often seems more interested in dunking on each other than doing anything real. In that light, maybe the ballroom is perfect. Perhaps it’s the logical outcome of decades of spectacle and disillusionment.

I’m not here to moralize. I don’t think this is about good taste versus bad taste, or even good presidents versus bad ones. I think it’s about what we want from power right now. TR made the White House look like a place where decisions got made. Trump is making it look like a place where attention gets harvested.

Maybe the scariest part isn’t that this is happening. It’s that it feels normal.

History has a way of repeating itself, but it rarely sings the same chorus. TR’s renovations helped usher in an era of national ambition, public trust in institutions (however flawed), and the idea that government might actually work. Trump’s might be a closing act or a pivot point.

Either way, they’re a signal.

We’ve paved over a lot more than a lawn. We’ve paved over a memory of what we thought the presidency was supposed to be.

Whether that’s just a new chapter or the beginning of the credits?

We’ll find out.