Less government, bigger throne by Harry S. Taylor

Republicans have long sold themselves as the party of restraint, less government, fewer federal mandates, a smaller Washington footprint and more power pushed down to states, communities, and individuals. It is a simple, elegant promise that resonates deeply in a country founded on suspicion of centralized authority. Yet the modern Republican movement, particularly under Donald Trump, reveals a contradiction so glaring it borders on parody. The rhetoric of shrinking government survives, but the practice has been replaced by something else entirely, an aggressively centralized, personality-driven state orbiting around the White House.

Take the recurring Republican dream of abolishing the Department of Education. On paper, it fits perfectly with conservative philosophy. Education, they argue, should be local, responsive to parents, and free from federal bureaucrats issuing one-size-fits-all decrees. It is a compelling argument, and one that has broad appeal beyond party lines. But what is striking is how quickly this commitment to decentralization evaporates when the conversation moves from theory to power.

Under Trump, the federal government did not shrink; it metastasized. Decision-making did not flow outward to states or inward to citizens. Instead, it flowed upward and inward, concentrating around the president himself and a tight circle of loyalists. The result was not a leaner state, but a swollen one, a kind of political hydrocephalus in which authority pooled unnaturally at the top while the rest of the system struggled to function.

Trump governed not as a believer in limited government, but as a chief executive obsessed with control. Federal agencies were not empowered to act independently within clear boundaries; they were expected to reflect the president’s moods, grudges, and instincts. State governors were not treated as partners in federalism but as subordinates, rewarded or punished based on loyalty rather than competence. Even Republican-led states found themselves pressured, threatened, or publicly humiliated if they deviated from the White House line.

This is not small government. It is personalized government. It replaces institutional authority with individual dominance, substituting rules with whims and long-term policy with short-term spectacle. Ironically, this approach requires more intervention, not less. Micromanagement is labor-intensive. It demands constant interference, constant messaging, constant enforcement of loyalty. A truly limited government sets boundaries and steps back. Trump’s government hovered, intruded, and interfered.

The contradiction extends beyond Trump himself to the broader Republican ecosystem that enabled him. Lawmakers who once warned of executive overreach suddenly discovered an enthusiasm for presidential power, so long as it was wielded by the right man. Conservatives who decried federal intrusion into state affairs cheered when Washington leaned heavily on states to conform to national political narratives. The principle was not abandoned openly; it was quietly suspended.

What makes this moment especially corrosive is the way it hollows out the very idea of conservative governance. If “less government” merely means fewer regulations you personally dislike, while embracing sweeping executive control elsewhere, then the phrase loses all meaning. It becomes branding, not belief. And branding is easily discarded when inconvenient.

The danger is not confined to one presidency or one party. A centralized, loyalty-based model of governance sets precedents that outlive any individual leader. Powers claimed in the name of fighting enemies, silencing critics, or enforcing ideological conformity rarely disappear. They are inherited, repurposed, and expanded by whoever comes next. Conservatives who applaud a powerful president today may find themselves powerless under a powerful president tomorrow.

If Republicans truly believe in less government, they must confront this contradiction honestly. Dismantling a department while inflating the presidency is not reform; it is reshuffling power. Shrinking bureaucracy while expanding personal authority is not decentralization; it is consolidation. The choice is not between big government and small government, but between institutional restraint and personal rule.

Until that reckoning happens, calls for limited government will ring hollow. A government dominated by one man and his inner circle is not smaller simply because it flies fewer flags. It is heavier, more fragile, and far more dangerous. True restraint requires letting go, and that is something the modern Republican leadership has repeatedly shown it is unwilling to do. In the end, voters should ask not what slogans promise, but where power actually settles. When authority flows upward instead of outward, freedom contracts regardless of party labels. A movement serious about liberty must resist the temptation of strongmen, even charismatic ones. Otherwise, the language of small government becomes camouflage for something far less principled, and far more enduring. History shows such systems rarely reverse themselves without significant damage to democracies.