London, 15 October 2023 – The architectural world, never shy of histrionics, has convulsed into a fresh paroxysm of debate. The object of its ire? A proposed structure by the former American president, a man whose aesthetic sensibilities would make a Las Vegas casino look like the Parthenon. We are told that a gargantuan, Eiffel Tower-style monument, commissioned by Donald Trump to house Ultimate Fighting Championship bouts, may yet be granted planning permission. One shudders. This is not merely a building; it is a statement, a projection of power, a colossal middle finger aimed at the very notion of architectural restraint.
Let us first establish the context. The Eiffel Tower, erected in 1889 for the Exposition Universelle, was itself a lightning rod for criticism. Guy de Maupassant, that great chronicler of the absurd, famously dined in its restaurant because it was the only place in Paris where one could not see the damned thing. But the Eiffel Tower, for all its ostentation, had a purpose: it was an engineering marvel, a symbol of industrial progress, a triumphant salute to modernity. Its iron lattice was a revelation. Trump’s proposed monstrosity, by contrast, will likely be a gilded, chromium-plated nightmare, a cathedral of testosterone where grown men batter each other for the amusement of the masses. It is a monument not to progress but to decline.
British architects, that venerable guild of men who once gave us the soaring spire of Salisbury and the serene perfection of the Georgian terrace, are now tasked with debating the merits of this… thing. One can almost hear the collective groaning in the common rooms of the Royal Institute of British Architects. The debate, predictably, centres on “cultural value” and “architectural merit.” But let us be honest. The only merit this structure will have is its ability to draw crowds, to generate revenue, to act as a beacon for a certain kind of vulgar patriotism. It is the architectural equivalent of a gold-plated toilet.
We must ask ourselves: what does it mean when a nation erects a permanent monument to blood sport? The Romans built the Colosseum, yes, but they also built aqueducts, roads, and temples. Their architecture was a blend of the practical and the sacred. The Trump-UFC monument is purely visceral. It speaks to a society that has lost its sense of the sublime, that no longer values the quiet dignity of a well-proportioned facade. We are in the age of the architectural spectacle, where the building must shout to be heard above the din of social media and partisan outrage. This is the triumph of the ornamental over the structural, of the ephemeral over the eternal.
And yet, we must resist the temptation to dismiss this as mere American excess. The British are hardly innocent. We gave the world the Crystal Palace, a glass-and-iron temple to the industrial age, and then promptly burned it down. We have our own history of monumental folly, from the Albert Memorial to the Millennium Dome. The difference, perhaps, is one of scale and intent. The Victorians built with a sense of purpose, even when they were being ridiculous. The Trump structure feels different. It feels like a sneer, a provocation, a deliberate affront to good taste. It is the architectural embodiment of the man himself: loud, boastful, and utterly lacking in self-awareness.
What, then, should be done? The planning process will churn on, and I suspect the thing will be built. In a world where the word “iconic” is applied to any building that happens to be tall and shiny, we have lost the ability to say no. We have abdicated our role as curators of the built environment. We have become passive consumers of architecture, willing to accept any piece of kitsch so long as it makes for a good Instagram post. The Trump-UFC monument is the logical endpoint of this trajectory. It is a monument to a culture that has abandoned nuance, restraint, and historical consciousness. It is the last gasp of something rotten.
But perhaps I am being too harsh. Perhaps the structure will, in time, become a beloved landmark, a symbol of a particular moment in history. After all, the Eiffel Tower was meant to be temporary. And look at it now. The difference, of course, is that the Eiffel Tower was beautiful. This thing will not be. It will be grotesque. And that, I suppose, is the point. We no longer build to inspire wonder; we build to provoke. We build to offend. And in that sense, the Trump-UFC monument is a perfect reflection of its age. A monument to narcissism, to violence, to the death of good taste. Welcome to the future. It is plastic, it is gilded, and it is coming to a city near you.
