Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Donald Trump’s ambitions for a second term have gone from authoritarian cosplay to full-blown aristocratic delusion, with recent reports suggesting he wants to add a $200 million ballroom to the White House — a grotesque symbol of his desire to transform the seat of American democracy into a gilded palace of excess. This fantasy isn’t just about architecture; it’s emblematic of Trump’s vision for a second Gilded Age — one that mirrors the opulence and inequality of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when men like Carnegie, Mellon, and Rockefeller amassed enormous fortunes while the majority of Americans toiled under brutal working conditions for scraps.

The original Gilded Age was a period of unprecedented wealth accumulation for a small elite. Titans of industry were heralded as self-made men, while their monopolies crushed competition, exploited workers, and manipulated government to serve their interests. Social mobility was largely an illusion. Tenement housing, child labor, violent strike-breaking, and political corruption were rampant. The veneer of prosperity hid the harsh reality for millions.

Trump’s vision revives this same ethos. His policies have historically favored tax cuts for the wealthy, deregulation, and privatization — measures that benefit the top 1% while leaving the working class behind. The $200 million ballroom isn’t just wasteful spending; it’s symbolic of how Trump sees leadership: not as public service, but as a personal brand extension, a stage set for royalty, not democracy.

To suggest a new Gilded Age will help the general public requires a suspension of historical understanding. Unless radically different from the first, a new Gilded Age would concentrate power further into the hands of corporate oligarchs, gut labor protections, and hollow out public services. While Trump might promise jobs and prosperity, what history shows us is that these “booms” are rarely shared equally.

If anything, the general public stands to lose more in this neo-feudal vision. Wealth does not trickle down; it pools at the top. The public ends up subsidizing the elite through bailouts, tax loopholes, and weakened oversight. In contrast to the populist narrative Trump peddles, his aspirations — whether it’s a ballroom or an economic model — serve to gild the cages the rest of us are trapped in, while the elite dance in marble halls built with public money.