Why does the topic of a return to classical architecture arouse so much emotion? And why is it not just a matter of taste? For centuries, architecture and power have formed an inseparable duo - not only in form, but also in message. And when politics begins to dictate the style of the facade, it is worth asking: what is really behind the "beauty" of marble columns?
He wrinkles his forehead when he looks at a simple white block with glass in the first floor. What's different is when he looks at a beautiful dome, a monumental colonnade, maybe even shrugs when he thinks of an exhibition on ancient Rome. Traditional architecture, that's what it is!
Only, this longing for cornices and classical order is not just an innocent love of aesthetics. There is often something more behind it - something that sociologists and architecture critics call theedifice complex[1]. Rulers, dictators, authoritarian leaders, but also minor local notables have for decades indulged in monumental forms - palaces, temples, public buildings wrapped in neoclassical costumes. Why? Because columns, arches, domes are not just decoration. They are symbols of power, strength and control, legible even to those who have never studied art and architectural history[2].
Architecture and power - an inseparable pair?
Great edifices with historical grandeur communicate unequivocally: look, here is permanence, order and power. Modernity does not offer this. Strict, minimalist, often devoid of ornamentation, modernist architecture does not conform to a hierarchy. It does not impose a single narrative. Therefore, in the eyes of admirers of monumental styles, it is too weak and abstract, and certainly not sublime enough. It does not allow for the theater of power. In many countries, including Poland, this clash of styles is not just an aesthetic dispute. Politicians are eager to exploit the aversion to modernist apartment blocks and housing estates, portraying them as relics of "communist chaos" or "soulless modernism" in order to promote "beautiful, national" forms - mansions, classical facades, "historical style" - as a counterpoint.
We saw similar strategies recently in the United States, when Donald Trump's administration issued an executive order entitled "Promoting Beautiful Federal Civic Architecture" (2020), which officially promoted the use of classical and traditional styles in new federal buildings. The executive order argued that modernist and brutalist architecture "does not inspire public appreciation" and "offends the aesthetic sense of the American people," advocating that "federal public buildings should be beautiful and respect traditional architectural heritage."
The decision drew immediate criticism from the architectural community. The American Institute of Architects (AIA) expressed "extreme concern," stressing that the order to favor one architectural style restricts creative freedom and ignores the needs of local communities. And although the 2021 ordinance was repealed by the Joe Biden administration, the story is not over. On the contrary, it has returned like a ghost of the past. When Donald Trump took office as president for the second time, one of his first steps was to restore the idea of "beautiful federal architecture." On his very first day in office, he signed a new executive order re-titled "Promoting Beautiful Federal Civic Architecture," ordering federal agencies to prepare recommendations within 60 days on how to implement policies favoring classical and traditional styles.
The west facade of the Capitol. - Wikipedia, Public Domain Architect of the Capitol derivative work: O.J.. - United_States_Capitol_-_west_front.jpg, Public Domain,
This was not just an administrative decision - it was a continuation of a political spectacle in which architecture played the role of a clear, symbolic message. As in his previous term, Trump explicitly criticized modern styles such as Brutalism and Deconstructivism, calling them "unattractive" and "not reflective of national values."
The new regulation is part of a broader political strategy - an attempt to impose aesthetics as a tool for shaping national identity, a nostalgic return to "greatness," which in this narrative has marble columns and golden domes. According to the document's stipulations, the administration was also to revise the Guiding Principles for Federal Architecture, the 1962 guidelines. This was no accident or innocent attempt to "beautify cities." It was an architectural extension of a political project in which columns, symmetry and monumental facades were to restore order, hierarchy and - above all - control. Modernism, with its abstractness and egalitarian message, once again became public enemy number one.
What is the "edifice complex" and who does it serve?
Power and architecture have been intertwined for centuries in a dance to which classicism and momentum are invited. Monumental buildings become physical manifestations of the ambition and dominance of those in power. The penchant for classical architecture in the context of the " edificecomplex " is a phenomenon that runs through human history, reflecting the desire of rulers and leaders to manifest their power and leave a lasting mark on history. We can, of course, recall here the inclinations of Mussolini and Hitler, usually cited as the most manifest.
Both used architecture as a tool of political narrative and propaganda, consciously invoking the aesthetics of antiquity. The Italian dictator erected structures such as the Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana, which were meant to recall the legacy of the Roman Empire and inscribe fascist ideology in a long historical continuity. The redevelopment of Rome, the construction of the monumental Via dei Fori Imperiali (running through the former Roman fora), the Foro Italico sports complex, or the extensive archaeological excavations were not just urban planning projects - they were tools to legitimize the regime through architecture that invoked the glories of the past and subordinated it to contemporary power.
Große Halle model - Wikipedia, Public Domain 146-1986-029-02 / CC-BY-SA 3.0, CC BY-SA 3.0 de,
By Bundesarchiv
Similar mechanisms were used in the Third Reich. Hitler, after all, in cooperation with Albert Speer, planned to transform Berlin into a monumental metropolis called Welthauptstadt Germania (German: Capital of the World Germania), the centerpiece of which was to be the gigantic Volkshalle (People's Hall). The projects that were implemented, such as the huge Zeppelinfeld in Nuremberg, the rebuilt Reich Chancellery and the Olympic Stadium in Berlin, were subordinated to the logic of power and domination - their grandeur was to overwhelm the individual and suggest the unchallengeability of the regime.
The classicist style, drawing on the achievements of ancient Greece and Rome, became a tool for creating monumental structures that were intended not only to serve a functional purpose, but above all to symbolize the authority and immortality of their founders - that is, architecture and power again.
City Beautiful and the myth of the beautiful order
Before those events saw the light of day, in the United States, at the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries, classical architecture was treated even differently - it then became an expression of the young country's aspirations to relate to the ideals of democracy. The Capitol, courthouses and federal offices in Washington, D.C., with their colonnades and symmetrical facades, were meant to recall the heritage of ancient Athens and Rome. They were seized upon to legitimize American democracy and create a visual bridge between the ancient world of free citizens and the modern state. The same aesthetic was evoked with flair by the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893 - an event that created an entire "White Metropolis" and launched the fashion for classicism in US public spaces.
The idea for the Exposition was born out of the need to manifest the United States' position as a modern power and cultural leader at the dawn of a new century. The official pretext was the (now unfortunate) celebration of the 400th anniversary of Christopher Columbus' expedition, but the organizers' undisguised ambition was also to create a spectacle that would dazzle both American citizens and visitors from Europe.
"The Great White City"| The "Great White City" - This photo is available at the New York Public Library's digital library under the digital identifier G90F186_170F: digitalgallery.nypl.org → digitalcollections.nypl.org,
Benjamin West Kilburn, 1827-1909 - Photographer
On nearly 700 acres (about 283 hectares) stretching along the Chicago waterfront, a temporary city was created that went down in history as White City. The exhibition was located in the area of Jackson Park and Midway Plaisance - two spaces designed back in the 1870s by famous landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted. Preparing the area for the exhibition, Olmsted and his team transformed these spaces in a way that was modern for the time: land was regulated, artificial water channels were dug, gardens were established and monumental plazas were laid out. In this setting, architects Daniel H. Burnham, Charles B. Atwood and Olmsted himself created exhibition pavilions inspired by classicism - ordered according to the principles of the academic Beaux-Arts school, with viewing axes, symmetry and monumental facades . The effect was spectacular. The white, powerful facades of the pavilions, arranged along canals and wide avenues, were arranged in a harmonious composition, evoking the dream of an ideal classicist city of marble and light.
In fact, the facades of these edifices were not made of costly marble, but were covered with a light, impermanent stucco called staff - a mixture of gypsum, hemp fibers and glue, applied to wooden structures. This made it possible to quickly and impressively erect a setting that was meant to delight visitors, but would not stand the test of time.
The World's Columbian Exposition became an unprecedented event: for six months it was visited by more than 27 million people. The Exposition was a demonstration not only of technological achievements, but also of a vision of an orderly, beautiful city of the future, where architecture was to shape civic attitudes and harmonious social relations. It was from this idea that the phenomenon known as the City Beautiful Movement later grew - a trend postulating that the aesthetics of public space have the power to create a better society.
View looking west from the Peristyle, Courtyard of Honor and Great Basin at the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition. - Wikipedia, public domain; C. D. Arnold (1844-1927);
Although the exposition went down in history as a spectacular display of architectural ambition, its backdrop was far from a harmonious picture of a beautiful White City. During the exhibition, Chicago struggled with a smallpox epidemic, and at the very end the city was shaken by tragedy - the assassination of popular Mayor Carter Harrison. Shortly after the exhibition closed, most of the pavilions were consumed by fire.
However, these events did not stop the admiration with which the aesthetic vision of the exhibition was received. On the contrary, the disproportion between the narrative, spectacular facade of the exhibition and the brutal reality of the city underscored, in the eyes of the elite of the time, the need for a permanent, material order. It was then that the notion that architecture and urban planning could be a tool for shaping social order was born - an idea that was soon reflected in the City Beautiful movement. In retrospect, the exhibition and its accompanying dramas are also considered one of the early manifestations of the phenomenon now known as the aforementioned edifice complex - the belief that monumental buildings can become a lasting symbol of power and stability of authority, even if chaos and uncertainty lie behind their facades.
This logic - the belief that the aesthetics of public space could cover social tensions and become a tool of order and political narrative - did not disappear with the end of the 19th century. It recurred in various guises in the following decades, not only in the totalitarian regimes of the 20th century, but also in contemporary political initiatives that appeal to the same idea of an "orderly" and resilient city.
Between nostalgia and modernity: "freedom cities"
With this knowledge, it is not difficult to see in the contemporary initiatives of the aforementioned Trump a certain continuation of the old thinking. It is quite easy to see actions in which public space is supposed to reflect the values of the nation and serve as a tool for political messaging. After all, during his presidency, Donald Trump repeatedly referred to traditional aesthetics - both in the symbolic and practical spheres . In his second term, he returned to the subject, establishing a team for beautifying Washington. Its tasks were to include the restoration of monuments, federal edifices and parks, as well as the removal of elements perceived as "threatening" to the city's aesthetics... such as graffiti or encampments of people in homelessness crisis.
On the other hand, however, Trump also announced the concept of building "freedom cities" - modern cities that were supposed to be the answer to the rising cost of living, competition with China and the growing housing crisis in the United States.
This is a clash of two seemingly contradictory visions - a nostalgic fascination with the classicist architecture of federal edifices and a futuristic vision of "freedom cities." This, however, is precisely what reflects well Trump's broader political strategy. On the one hand, he has advocated the rejection of modernist trends such as brutalism and deconstructivism, claiming that they are "unattractive" and lack universal appeal. At the same time, however, he enthusiastically promoted the concept of building modern metropolises from scratch, equipped with future technologies such as flying cars. "Freedom cities" were to be spaces of innovation and minimal regulation, a place for those who want to realize the American dream on new terms.
The apparent contradiction between the rejection of modern architectural styles and the belief in technological modernity becomes understandable when viewed through the lens of Trump's political narrative. At the symbolic center, in the heart of power - which is Washington - what appeals to tradition and national pride was to dominate. On the periphery, on the other hand, away from the Capitol, one could indulge in futuristic experiments and building "cities of the future" from scratch. This divergence between the past and the future, nostalgia and innovation, was not an accident, but a conscious strategy appealing to two strong longings of American society: for a stable, "beautiful" order and for the unlimited possibility of individual development. This is what modern "architecture and power" is all about.
Architecture as a political message
Contemporary architectural politics, reaches for various symbols of order, power and historical continuity. After all, architecture can also serve as a tool of propaganda and national image-building. The Burj Khalifa in Dubai alone, the tallest building in the world, is not only an engineering achievement, but above all a message about the emirate's global aspirations and wealth. Similarly, the city of Ashgabat in Turkmenistan, with its marble facades and golden statues, is meant to create an image of prosperity and modernity while masking the country's authoritarian rule and social problems.
A certain legacy keeps coming back - in new guises, with new goals, but based on the same belief that the aesthetics of space, restrictions and permissions are not just a matter of taste, but a political statement. I think Reinhold Martin, a professor of architecture at Columbia University, was right when he said in 2020 for The New York Times, "The executive order doesn't matter. It's an attempt to use culture to send coded messages about white supremacy and political hegemony."
Magdalena Milert
[1] Sudjic, D. (2005). The Edifice Complex: How the Rich and Powerful Shape the World. London: Penguin Books.
[2] Vale, L. J. (2008). Architecture, Power and National Identity (2nd ed.). London: Routledge.
