Two nations have found a curious way to mark the American semiquincentennial. The US State Department has announced that Donald Trump’s likeness will appear on a limited edition of passports issued for the 250th birthday of the Declaration of Independence. Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, the Royal Mint has unveiled a commemorative sovereign bearing his portrait, a curious honour for a man who has spent much of his public life denigrating British institutions.
It is a pairing that feels almost designed to provoke. The passport, that most intimate of travel documents, is typically reserved for symbols of the republic: eagles, liberty bells, and founding fathers. To place a living, controversial former president on its cover is a break with tradition that speaks volumes about the fusion of celebrity and statehood in modern America. The decision, I suspect, will thrill supporters and chill those who see the passport as a sacred, non-partisan emblem.
The Royal Mint’s move is perhaps more surprising. Britain has no shortage of monarchs and heroes for its coinage. To mint a sovereign, a coin historically representing the sovereign, with the face of a foreign politician is a departure that suggests a transactional relationship between two allies. One wonders if it is a cynical gesture of flattery, or a genuine tribute to a figure who has reshaped the Western political landscape. On the street, reactions are mixed. In a pub in Clerkenwell, a retired diplomat called it ‘an embarrassment’. A young entrepreneur in Shoreditch shrugged: ‘He’s iconic, like Elvis. Why not?’
Beneath the spectacle, a human cost emerges. Passport officials scramble to manage demand, while coin collectors brace for a price spike. But the deeper shift is cultural: the normalisation of branding a nation’s identity on a living individual, not an ideal. It is a move that would have been unthinkable a decade ago. Now it feels almost inevitable, a sign that the line between public service and personality cult has blurred beyond repair.
For the average American, the passport change may be a fleeting novelty. For the average Briton, the sovereign is a quiet reminder that history is no longer written by the victors alone, but by the most marketable faces. As we approach a birthday for a nation born of rebellion, these two commemorations ask us: what, exactly, are we celebrating?
