In the pantheon of American presidents, few figures are as paradoxically pivotal yet overlooked as William McKinley. The 25th president, whose tenure (1897–1901) catalysed the nation’s metamorphosis into a global economic powerhouse, now lingers in historical obscurity – until Donald Trump’s recent resurrection of his legacy. McKinley, assassinated by an anarchist six months into his second term, presided over an era of tariff-driven prosperity, territorial expansion, and industrial might. His name, once synonymous with Gilded Age ambition, now resurfaces as Trump positions himself as a modern architect of “American wealth”, drawing direct parallels to McKinley’s playbook. This revival begs the question: why has a president dismissed for decades as a staid relic become the lodestar for 21st-century populism?
Economic Architect of Empire
McKinley’s presidency was defined by a mercantile ethos that Trump conspicuously venerates. Taking office after the Panic of 1893 – a depression worse than the 2008 crisis – he stabilised the economy through aggressive protectionism. The Dingley Tariff of 1897, the highest in US history, shielded nascent industries and flooded federal coffers. “He didn’t build parks; he built capital,” Trump remarked in 2023, contrasting McKinley with Theodore Roosevelt’s conservationist splurges. The strategy worked: GDP surged by 30%, unemployment halved, and America eclipsed Britain as the world’s factory floor.
This unapologetic economic nationalism mirrors Trump’s “America First” doctrine. Both leaders frame tariffs not as regressive taxes but as negotiating cudgels. McKinley leveraged them to strong-arm trade deals; Trump weaponised them against China and the EU. Their shared belief? That wealth generation, not redistribution, is governance’s ultimate aim.
Territorial Ambition Reimagined
McKinley’s foreign policy, however, reveals deeper ideological threads. His administration annexed Hawaii, seized Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines, and established a Cuban protectorate – all within four years. This “imperialism of commerce”, as he termed it, wasn’t mere land-grabbing. It was the calculated expansion of markets, ensuring US goods dominated globally. The Spanish-American War, waged under his watch, lasted 10 weeks but reshaped geopolitics for a century.
Trump’s rhetorical territorialism – from “buying Greenland” to musing about Mexico funding a border wall – echoes this transactional mindset. While not replicating 19th-century annexations, his focus on economic conquests (reshoring supply chains, renegotiating NATO contributions) channels McKinley’s ethos: sovereignty as a tool for profit.
The Shadow of Violent Extremism
Both presidencies also unfold against backdrops of societal fracture. McKinley’s assassination by Leon Czolgosz, a disillusioned factory worker turned anarchist, underscored the era’s labour unrest and inequality. Industrial titans like Carnegie and Rockefeller amassed fortunes while workers faced gruelling conditions – a dissonance that fuelled radicalism.
Trump’s tenure, bookended by the Capitol riot and rising far-right movements, reflects similar tensions. His revival of McKinley’s legacy tacitly nods to this duality: economic nationalism as both a unifying force and a lightning rod for dissent. The parallels are uncomfortable but telling.
Manufacturing the “Forgotten President”
McKinley’s obscurity is itself a cultural construct. Historians often reduce him to a passive figure – a “puppet” of oligarch Mark Hanna, or a mere prelude to Roosevelt’s progressive era. Yet this narrative overlooks his agency. McKinley wasn’t simply pro-business; he redefined the presidency as CEO-in-chief, leveraging federal power to orchestrate growth. His 1896 campaign, the first to use modern polling and mass media, pioneered the political machinery Trump now masters.
The media’s role in shaping McKinley’s legacy offers another mirror. Early 20th-century press, enamoured with Roosevelt’s charisma, painted McKinley as a dull technocrat – a portrayal cemented by decades of textbooks. Trump’s fixation on media narratives (“fake news”, “retribution”) reflects a similar awareness: legacy is as much about perception as policy.
Trump’s Revisionist Blueprint
By resurrecting McKinley, Trump isn’t merely mining history for validation. He’s crafting a revisionist framework where nationalism and capitalism are indivisible virtues. Renaming Denali “Mount McKinley” (reversing a Obama decision) was symbolic theatre, positioning himself as a restorer of usurped glory. The gesture, dismissed as petty by critics, revealed a deeper strategy: aligning his brand with an underdog narrative.
McKinley’s “forgotten” status allows Trump to position himself as both heir and rebel – a disruptor honouring tradition. It’s a duality that resonates with his base: the promise of radical change wrapped in nostalgic rhetoric.
Gilded Age Lessons for Digital Politics
The parallels, however, aren’t seamless. McKinley governed in an era of tangible industry – steel, railroads, tangible goods. Trump navigates a digital economy where data eclipses coal. Yet their shared emphasis on tangible metrics (trade balances, GDP) reveals a common thread: the primacy of measurable success.
McKinley’s use of tariffs to fund expansion (the gold standard, naval fleets) finds its echo in Trump’s proposed “universal baseline tariffs” to bankroll infrastructure. Both strategies treat economic policy as a means to project power – domestically and abroad.
The Uncomfortable Legacy of Assassination
McKinley’s murder looms as a cautionary tale. His death, precipitated by societal fractures, underscores the volatility of populist mandates. Trump’s security detail, the largest in US history, hints at similar anxieties. Yet the comparison also reveals divergences: McKinley sought to temper extremism through prosperity; Trump often amplifies division as political fuel.
A Contrarian Path to Legacy
Ultimately, Trump’s McKinley fixation challenges conventional presidential legacies. Most leaders invoke Lincoln’s unity or Reagan’s optimism. By contrast, McKinley offers a template of ruthless pragmatism – governance stripped of idealism. In an age of disillusionment, that resonates. The question lingers: can a president’s legacy be both resurrected and rewritten? McKinley’s ghost, long confined to Ohioan monuments, now strides the political stage anew – proof that in America, even the forgotten can return to shape the future.
