1. United States
2. Mass.
3. Letter

This week, President Donald J. Trump announced plans for a new “Trump class” of battleships—part of a so-called “Golden Fleet.” The proposal is militarily unserious, strategically obsolete, and almost certainly unfunded. But its true purpose appears less about national defense than political distraction. Battleships were rendered obsolete decades ago. The U.S. Navy stopped building them after World War II, and the last American battleship was decommissioned in 1992. Modern naval warfare relies on submarines, aircraft carriers, distributed missile platforms, cyber capabilities, and allied integration—not slow, missile-vulnerable behemoths designed to look impressive on screen. Even defense experts have openly stated that this proposal is “exactly what we don’t need.” What makes this announcement especially alarming is its timing. At the same press appearance announcing the “Golden Fleet,” President Trump openly complained that Americans were still talking about the Epstein files. He lamented that Republicans were “very angry” about the continued release of information and images connected to Jeffrey Epstein, framing the outrage not around the crimes themselves, but around reputational harm to powerful figures. This is not coincidence. It is diversion. The Department of Justice—under Trump’s control—has released heavily redacted Epstein materials while withholding large portions outright, despite statutory obligations and public assurances of transparency. Survivors, journalists, and the public have been left with blacked-out pages, delayed disclosures, and shifting justifications. These actions raise serious legal and ethical questions about obstruction, abuse of prosecutorial discretion, and whether the DOJ is shielding politically connected individuals from accountability. Instead of addressing those concerns, the administration has chosen spectacle: gold-plated rhetoric, self-named weapons systems, and nostalgic fantasies of World War II-era power. This is governance by misdirection—flooding the zone with pageantry to pull attention away from unlawful secrecy and eroding trust in the justice system. This pattern is deeply authoritarian. When leaders face scandal or legal exposure, they manufacture grandiose symbols of strength, personalize state power, and demand loyalty to the leader rather than to institutions or law. Naming weapons after oneself, inserting personal imagery into military concepts, and treating the armed forces as a branding vehicle are not acts of confidence—they are warning signs. Congress has both the authority and the responsibility to intervene. Lawmakers must demand full compliance with disclosure laws governing the Epstein files, conduct oversight into DOJ redactions and delays, and reject any military funding tied to unauthorized, vanity-driven projects. The Constitution vests Congress—not the president—with control over appropriations and oversight of the executive branch. America’s military should never be used as a distraction from justice, nor should national security be reduced to a prop in a political survival strategy. Congress must act now to defend transparency, uphold the rule of law, and make clear that no one—no matter how powerful—is above accountability.