It was an idea US President Donald Trump first floated in October last year: a triumphal arch in Washington, DC to mark the 250th anniversary of the US Declaration of Independence on July 4.
Speaking to donors at a White House dinner, he unveiled several scale models inspired by Paris’ Arc de Triomphe — earning the project the nickname “Arc de Trump.” When asked by a CBS reporter who the arch was for, he reportedly pointed to himself and said “me,” adding that it would be “really beautiful.”
He revisited the idea early this year, favoring a 250‑foot (76‑metre) version — a structure that would tower over familiar city landmarks such as the Lincoln Memorial (about 100 feet) and the White House (about 70 feet). The proposed site, between Arlington National Cemetery and the Lincoln Memorial, has drawn plentiful criticism. Trump argued that 57 global cities have arches and “we’re the only major city — Washington, D.C. — that doesn’t.”
Arches, including triumphal ones, have a long history spanning cultures and eras.
From engineering to empire
Archaeology shows ancient Mesopotamian builders used sun‑dried mudbrick and mud mortar to form arches for gates, drains, doorways and tomb chambers. These early solutions reinforced openings and created stronger, more stable structures.
The Romans adopted and advanced the arch for practical uses — gateways, aqueducts and vaulted public works such as the Colosseum. By the late 1st century CE, Roman arches increasingly served commemorative and propagandistic purposes. The Arch of Titus, for example, was erected under Domitian to mark Titus’s victory in the Siege of Jerusalem (70 CE); its bas‑reliefs show Roman soldiers carrying spoils from the Second Temple, including a seven‑branched menorah. As classicists note, such monuments were designed less to record events than to shape collective memory.
Centuries later, Napoleon commissioned Paris’s Arc de Triomphe in 1806 after the Battle of Austerlitz; the roughly 50‑metre monument was completed in 1836 and has since become a national setting for remembrance and ceremonial life.
Gateways across eras
Monumental gateways have functioned as political and ceremonial landmarks across regions and periods.
Taq i‑Kisra, the soaring brick arch of the Sasanian kings at ancient Ctesiphon, is the last visible remnant of that imperial capital. Built between the 3rd and 6th centuries CE, it is an astonishing example of unreinforced brick vaulting and ranks among the world’s largest single‑span brick arches.
Berlin’s neoclassical Brandenburg Gate, commissioned by Frederick William II as a city entrance, has shifted meanings over centuries. Napoleon seized its quadriga in 1806 as a trophy; it was returned in 1814. The gate later became central to Nazi spectacle, then a Cold War symbol after the Berlin Wall’s construction in 1961, and finally a potent emblem of German reunification when the wall fell in 1989.
Communal identity markers
Arches also signal community identity rather than conquest. Paifang — decorative gate arches associated with Chinese architecture — mark Chinatowns worldwide. With bright colours, carved roofs and traditional motifs like dragons and lions, these gateways announce distinct cultural quarters and draw on older Chinese uses that honored sacred sites or families. Many modern paifang, from San Francisco and Los Angeles to Liverpool, London and Sydney, result from urban planning, community advocacy or multicultural initiatives.
India Gate in New Delhi, designed by British architect Edwin Lutyens and drawing on the Roman triumphal tradition, was built as a memorial to Indian Army soldiers who died between 1914 and 1921. The names of around 13,500 Indian and British soldiers are inscribed on the memorial; over time the surrounding area has become an iconic public space and the route for national ceremonies like the Republic Day parade.
Sacred thresholds to spiritual spaces
Arches also mark transitions into sacred space. In Japan, the torii at Shinto shrines — two‑post gateways rather than architectural arches — are typically painted vermilion, a colour believed to ward off evil. Passing beneath a torii signifies moving from the secular into the realm of the kami, the deities of Shinto belief.
In medieval Europe, Gothic masons used pointed arches, rib vaults and stained glass to draw the eye upward and suffuse churches with “sacred light.” Abbot Suger’s 12th‑century rebuilding of the Abbey of Saint‑Denis is often cited as the first recognised Gothic building; the style evolved to shape light and space as a means of evoking the sacred, a sensibility evident even in ruins like Tintern Abbey.
Arches today: meaning and dispute
Arches are not merely historical relics; they continue to carry symbolic weight and sometimes provoke controversy. In Washington, a legal challenge filed in February 2026 by three Vietnam War veterans and an architectural historian argues the proposed Independence Arch would require congressional approval and would obstruct the long‑established sightline between Arlington House and the Lincoln Memorial. The plaintiffs contend that the viewline was intentionally preserved to symbolize national unity after the Civil War and has remained unobstructed for nearly a century.
The question is concrete: will the city add a new arch to a landscape already dense with monuments and carefully protected vistas — and what message would such a structure send today?
Edited by: Sarah Hucal