You are clutching your pearls over the sudden demolition of our democratic norms, but it is time to admit the old checks and balances were taking up far too much floor space.
You have been pacing around your kitchen island, scrolling frantically through your news feed, and sending panicked text messages to your group chat about the sudden structural changes happening in Washington. You are exhausted. You are terrified about the integrity of the foundation. But I need you to pause, set down your unglazed ceramic coffee mug, and take a deep breath. We need to have an honest conversation about the aesthetic benefits of a complete institutional gut job.
For nearly two and a half centuries, we have been living in a republic with a highly compartmentalized floor plan. The framers of the Constitution loved a closed-concept layout. They wanted the legislature in one room, the executive in another, and the judiciary sequestered in a gloomy, wood-paneled nook down the hall. They insisted on building massive, load-bearing walls called "the separation of powers" and told us that if we ever knocked them down, the entire roof would cave in.
But they told us the exact same thing about the wall between the dining room and the den in 2014, and look how much natural light we have now.
The new administration’s approach to the capital is being called brash and unprecedented, but it is really just a classic reality-TV renovation. They are stripping the regulatory agencies right down to the studs. Yes, there is dust everywhere. Yes, the Department of Justice is currently functioning out of a temporary trailer on the lawn while contractors rip out the civil service protections. But you have to break a few administrative subpoenas to achieve a truly open-concept flow.
You have to admit, there was something deeply depressing about the old way. All those dreary congressional hearings, the endless paperwork, the muted gray suits talking in hushed tones about "statutory authority" and "ethics disclosures." It was cluttered. It was heavy. It did not spark joy.
Now, we are embracing a bold, maximalist aesthetic. We are trading understated bureaucratic chic for aggressive gold leaf. We are replacing the tedious, multi-step confirmation processes with the swift, decisive action of simply appointing whoever looks best on a television monitor. It is a statement. You might not personally love the statement, but you cannot deny that it is a definitive design choice.
I was incredibly skeptical when they decided to knock down the firewall between the executive branch and the federal reserve, but you really cannot argue with the sightlines.
Every major renovation has that dramatic episode where the contractor pulls down the drywall and discovers a catastrophic issue that blows the budget. Here, the administration pulled off the drywall of the intelligence community and found "deep state wiring." So they simply cut the power to the entire house. You have to admire the sheer, unapologetic confidence of refusing to hire an electrician and just navigating the house by the light of a heavily branded candelabra.
This is where you need to do some real soul-searching. Are you actually upset about the erosion of democratic oversight, or are you just resistant to change? When they ripped out the mid-century modern voting rights protections, you said it was the end of days. But now, without all those clunky electoral access mechanisms taking up valuable floor space, there is so much more room for entertaining.
We are shifting away from the minimalist democracy of the past. We are entering our dramatic, high-contrast era of governance. It is loud, the finishes are entirely synthetic, there is always a manufactured cliffhanger before the weekend, and someone is always crying in a confessional booth about loyalty. It is time to stop fighting the prevailing trends.
The next time you see a constitutional norm being carted away in a rented dumpster on Pennsylvania Avenue, do not panic. Do not write a long, impassioned social media post. Just light a small, ethically sourced cedar candle, drape a chunky knit throw over your shoulders, and trust the process. The final reveal is going to be spectacular, even if we have to live in a temporary hotel for the next four years.