A triumphal arch is the wrong symbol for America

The debate over the proposed United States Triumphal Arch in Arlington, Virginia, has largely focused on architecture. Critics question whether a 250-foot monument should interrupt the historic sightline between the Lincoln Memorial and Arlington House. Those concerns are legitimate design issues.

But they miss the more important question: Why should the United States build a triumphal arch at all?

Architecture is never merely a physical object without cultural meaning. Monuments specifically are statements that communicate national values. They tell future generations what a society admired, feared and aspired to become. Before asking where a triumphal arch should be built, we should discuss whether the structure represents this nation's ideals in the 21st century.

Historically, triumphal arches have not been symbols of democracy or reconciliation. They are monuments to conquest and power.

The ancient Romans perfected the form. The Arch of Titus and the Arch of Constantine celebrated military victories and proclaimed the authority of emperors. They were, in effect, stone billboards announcing imperial dominance.

In the 18th and 19th century, Europe adopted the same language. The Arc de Triomphe commemorated Napoleon's military victories. Prussia's Brandenburg Gate celebrated national triumph. Across countries and eras, the message remained remarkably consistent: military success, national glory and imperial power.

The United States also embraced the form in the 19th century. The Washington Square Arch and Brooklyn's Soldiers' and Sailors' Arch were products of the Beaux-Arts movement and reflected an age fascinated with French and Roman classical architecture. Yet these structures emerged during an era of nationalism and empire that is increasingly distant from contemporary democratic ideals.

Notably, modern democracies have largely abandoned triumphal arches as war memorials. The few monumental examples built since World War II are hardly models to emulate. North Korea's 197-foot Arch of Triumph honors the country's founder, Kim Il Sung. Iraq's 140-foot Swords of Qadisiyah Victory Arch was commissioned by Saddam Hussein. These monuments sought to glorify rulers and project state power through sheer scale.

To be fair, the United States does have the world's tallest arch: the 630-foot Gateway Arch in St. Louis. But its origins and symbolism are fundamentally different. The monument took decades to realize, requiring congressional authorization, federal funding and a national design competition. Built to commemorate America's westward expansion, its final form was a simple, contemporary stainless-steel curve stripped of any reference to military and imperial associations that historically defined triumphal arches.

Contemporary war memorials generally avoid celebrating victory itself. They honor sacrifice, mourn loss and acknowledge the human cost of war.

America has been uneasy with the idea of empire since World War II. We celebrate military service, but we also distrust displays of concentrated power and grandiose nationalism. A triumphal arch belongs to a historical tradition that speaks the language of conquest rather than constitutional democracy and freedom.

The issue, then, is not simply whether the proposed arch sits in the wrong place. The deeper question is whether it speaks in the wrong voice.

At a moment when the nation needs symbols that unite rather than divide, do we really want to revive one of history's oldest architectural expressions of imperial triumph? Or should our monuments continue to reflect a different American aspiration — humility, sacrifice and the unfinished work of equality and democracy?

This guest essay reflects the views of Joseph A. Betz, an architect and professor on Long Island who teaches architectural design, theory and history.