Observing a construction team work twenty hours a day, seven days a week, on the White House grounds, drilling five stories into the ground and raising a steel-and-concrete superstructure seventy feet into the air without a single vote from Congress, is striking. That is precisely what has been taking place since October, when the East Wing was demolished and construction started on what the Trump administration refers to as an integrated military complex, which a federal appeals court described as an unapproved reconstruction of one of the country’s most historically significant structures.
An estimated $400 million will be spent on the project, a 90,000-square-foot ballroom that can accommodate 1,000 guests for state dinners and important events. Given that a number of significant donors have received noteworthy federal favors, the fact that it is partially funded by private donations has raised its own set of ethical and legal questions. Reframing the ballroom as an investment in national security, the administration covertly moved about $350 million from the Secret Service budget to the project in June.
It is difficult to ignore how the rationale has changed over time. Over time, what started out as a place for dinner parties—Trump himself admitted that events under earlier administrations were held in outdoor tents—became something the White House characterizes as essential to presidential protection. The project is “vitally required by national security,” Solicitor General D. John Sauer told the Supreme Court, citing Trump’s assassination attempts and claiming that the ballroom gives the president a safe place to meet foreign dignitaries. That framing has undoubtedly altered the political landscape, regardless of whether it alters the legal one.
Last year, a lawsuit to stop the project was filed by the National Trust for Historic Preservation, a nonprofit organization that Congress specifically established to safeguard America’s historic sites. Their main point is simple: there is no law that permits the president to demolish a third of the White House and replace it with a huge new structure that is mostly financed by private donations.
A federal district judge concurred. In early August, a two-to-one panel at the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit ruled that “Congress has not ceded unfettered authority to the executive branch to dramatically redesign, reshape and reconstruct the White House.” Construction must cease by August 21st, according to that ruling.
The Supreme Court is currently considering the case, and a ruling is anticipated any day. The preservation trust warned the justices in its Tuesday response that the administration is attempting to “outrun judicial review” by purposefully speeding up construction to the point where it is nearly impossible to halt. That worry is real given that the project is reportedly 65% finished. The legal issue becomes moot in the strictest sense once enough concrete has been poured, making it impossible for courts to meaningfully intervene.
Trump has called historical preservationists “treasonists” and claimed that prior presidents altered the White House without the consent of Congress. Technically, that is accurate, but no prior president has completely destroyed a wing and built a structure this size in its place. Legally, the distinction is important.
The case was initially heard by George W. Bush appointee Judge Richard Leon, who decided that the project went beyond the type of minor renovations that have traditionally been carried out without congressional approval. He blocked the aboveground ballroom while allowing underground security work to proceed; the administration has since attempted to bridge this divide by claiming the two are inseparable.
This seems to be a really challenging case for the Roberts Court. Although it has generally backed the Trump administration’s assertions of executive authority, this case concerns the physical modification of a structure that, according to the preservation trust, “is owned by the American people.” Although the measure failed to pass, seven Republican senators voted in June to halt construction until Congress formally authorized it. It’s easy to ignore that detail, but it implies that, at least in some areas, the constitutional unease with this project transcends party lines.
The wider ramifications of the Supreme Court’s decision in the next few days will probably outlive the ballroom itself. In particular, if the project can be loosely linked to national security, a decision that permits construction to proceed could effectively confirm that a president can undertake extensive reconstruction of federal property without legislative approval. That is a substantial amount of power to discreetly establish precedent.
What started out as an event space question has grown into something much more significant. Whether the court will apply the brakes or allow the concrete to set is still up in the air. However, regardless of who is making the claim or why, it seems worthwhile to take seriously the claim that the White House belongs to the American people and not to any one administration’s ideal of what it should look like.
