In a stunning series of events, President Donald Trump’s long-anticipated military parade proved to be an embarrassing misfire—both symbolically and politically. Despite the millions of taxpayer dollars spent on tanks, flyovers, and carefully choreographed pageantry, the turnout was underwhelming. According to multiple international news sources, only several thousand attendees appeared, leaving large swaths of the National Mall sparsely populated.
But it wasn’t just the empty space that spoke volumes. The most unforgettable—and ironic—moment came as the infantry passed while the military band played Creedence Clearwater Revival’s iconic antiwar anthem, “Fortunate Son.”
“Some folks are born made to wave the flag / Hoo, they’re red, white, and blue…
And when the band plays ‘Hail to the Chief’ / Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord…”
“It ain’t me, it ain’t me / I ain’t no senator’s son, son…”
The lyrics—an unmistakable rebuke of privileged political elites who send others to war—clashed starkly with the image of Trump, a man who dodged the Vietnam War with multiple deferments, basking in military grandeur as soldiers marched before him.
A Parade of Contradictions
While billed as a tribute to the troops, the parade laid bare the contradictions of the Trump administration. The event reportedly cost tens of millions of dollars, even as the administration continues to push for deep cuts to food stamps, healthcare subsidies, and housing assistance—programs that disproportionately serve veterans, working families, and the very communities from which most enlisted soldiers come.
Even more ironic: the vast majority of the marching service members were people of color, and many were women—groups that have borne the brunt of Trump’s political rhetoric, policy rollbacks, and immigration crackdowns. According to estimates, roughly 90% of enlisted personnel involved in the parade were non-white.
“No Kings” Protests Sweep the Nation
As Trump looked out over a military procession designed to evoke strength and loyalty, millions of Americans were in the streets holding signs that read “No Kings.” In more than 150 cities, demonstrators gathered to protest what they describe as Trump’s authoritarian tendencies, including his attempts to undermine the judiciary, intimidate the press, and flout congressional oversight.
These protests weren’t just political opposition; they were a direct rejection of Trump’s growing embrace of militarized nationalism—a move many see as an attempt to normalize strongman tactics in the United States.
Global News Coverage and Condemnation
International outlets seized on the event to highlight what many foreign commentators described as the ongoing decline of American democratic norms. European and Asian broadcasters ran montages of the parade alongside footage of mass protests, immigrant detentions, and civil rights rollbacks. Several outlets highlighted the choice of “Fortunate Son” in particular, noting the irony of its anti-elitist message being played for a President often described as an embodiment of wealth, privilege, and populist manipulation.
Critics around the globe continued to spotlight the administration’s open ties to white nationalist rhetoric, from immigration bans and voter suppression to the President’s refusal to denounce far-right militias. One BBC commentator noted, “When a leader embraces the trappings of monarchy and silences opposition, even parades begin to look like warnings.”
The Cost of Spectacle
The parade may have been designed to boost morale, project strength, and rally Trump’s base. But instead, it drew global attention to a White House increasingly isolated both at home and abroad. The optics—a President standing amid rain and dwindling crowds, with antiwar lyrics echoing in the background—did not project dominance. They projected disconnect.
And for millions of Americans—marching in the streets, struggling with basic needs, or simply watching with unease—the parade served as a painful reminder of what’s being lost: not just money, but values, dignity, and direction.
In the end, it wasn’t strength that defined the day—it was irony. And irony, unlike patriotism, can’t be choreographed.