Modernism, Rhetoric, and the Theater of Power

 Modernism, Rhetoric, and the Theater of Power

Date: March 7, 2026

The end product of Donald Trump and his administration appears to be an attempt to capitalize on modernism. Like many people seeking a share in the investments and innovations of the modern age, Trump seems determined to place his own personal seal on the idea of modernism, whether in philosophy, politics, or any other subject that can be gathered up and claimed in the imagination.

When you look at the “Great War” concept he has promoted in connection with Israel and his partnership with Benjamin Netanyahu, it begins to appear less like a purely national effort and more like a personal attempt to project his own version of modern strength and direction. In his mind, this may represent a contemporary striving toward modernism, even if the execution sometimes seems scattered or misplaced.

Thanks in part to advisers such as Stephen Miller encouraging him along the way, the situation sometimes feels like two beatniks discovering there might actually be a living to be made from panhandling. Then again, perhaps the image has advanced to hippies and beyond. Imagine two stone hippies standing at a streetcar stop on Market Street in San Francisco, saying to themselves, “Young man, I think we can panhandle on Haight Street and make a little money. Look at all of these tourists.”

With that said, you can see the evolution of Donald Trump’s more hawkish philosophy of war, with a “might makes right” tone. Miller often seems to echo behind him, like a kind of background harmony, creating a surround-sound political philosophy that tries to make the audience feel like they are part of the performance.

Trump’s speeches often begin in a softer tone, almost as if he is avoiding certain details and just barely skimming over them in a dogmatic and sometimes careless way, filled with pomp and circumstance. Later in his rallies and spectacles he becomes more specific, sometimes launching into extended performances that resemble the style of an evangelistic minister.

The comparison brings to mind figures such as Franklin Graham or Billy Graham. At least Billy Graham tended to keep many of his facts straight. I never followed Billy Graham personally, though my grandmother did. I remember visiting her in Texas when she was quite elderly and nearly blind, with Billy Graham preaching loudly on the television while a whole chicken turned in the electric rotisserie in the kitchen.

Today, Trump’s political messaging often draws upon strands of older American philosophies and traditions, especially in parts of the country where cultural habits have deep roots. In many places across Texas and other regions of the United States, this blend of nostalgia and modern messaging still resonates, even in a world shaped by the internet, television, and new forms of right-wing evangelical media.

Sometimes I encounter these broadcasts in the most ordinary places. At a gas station on the way to the market, the radio might be playing an evangelical ministry that blends sermons with political innuendo. When the station from San Diego does not come in clearly, the signal switches to Los Angeles, and suddenly the sermon dominates the airwaves. At that point it becomes nearly impossible to listen to jazz, and in an effort to remain within the spirit of the Commandments, I simply turn the radio off rather than curse.

All of this circles back to the idea of Trump attempting to modernize his message while tightly controlling the rhetoric. To many observers, that control begins to resemble propaganda, especially when the tone is sharpened by figures like Miller.

We should also remember Vice President Mike Pence from Trump’s previous administration. Pence’s speeches often had a gaslighting quality that left many listeners wondering what exactly he was trying to say. There was something almost humorous about it, as if the message hovered just out of reach of clear meaning.

Now the background influence appears to have shifted from Pence to Miller, and the atmosphere surrounding Trump’s thinking seems more intense. The result, at times, feels like a suffocating form of modern political messaging rather than an expansion of modern thought.

This brings me back to an idea that often crosses my mind, though it may seem irrelevant to many people. I think about Frank Lloyd Wright and his version of modernism. Was his work truly modern, or was it a reinterpretation of contemporary ideas that eventually became part of the past?

It is not quite contemporary anymore, because architecture has advanced considerably since Wright’s time. Yet many architectural schools still trace their most progressive ideas back to the traditions that he helped establish. In that sense, Frank Lloyd Wright’s influence remains one of the most important foundations of modern architectural thought.

I have tried many times to visit the campus associated with his work and legacy. I have studied it and even had the bus fare ready to go. Somehow something always comes up and the trip never happens.

Oh well. Some ideas, like some journeys, remain unfinished.