In a week marked by controversy and introspection at the highest levels of American media and politics, the decision by CBS News to pull a 60 Minutes segment about Venezuelan migrants sent to El Salvador’s notorious CECOT prison has sparked intense debate about editorial independence, presidential influence, and the enduring legacy of Donald Trump. The episode, originally scheduled to air on December 21, 2025, was abruptly pulled by CBS News’ new editor in chief, Bari Weiss, just before airtime. The ostensible reason? The Trump administration—specifically, the absence of senior adviser Stephen Miller—refused to provide an official for an on-the-record interview, despite repeated requests from CBS News.
According to the Substack newsletter Old Goats with Jonathan Alter, correspondent Sharyn Alfonsi voiced her concerns to staff in a note the night the segment was pulled, describing the move as “political” and warning that, if not reversed, it would effectively give former President Trump “veto power” over 60 Minutes reporting. “If the administration’s refusal to participate becomes a valid reason to spike a story, we have effectively handed them a ‘kill switch’ for any reporting they find inconvenient,” Alfonsi wrote. The gravity of this moment did not go unnoticed by media observers, many of whom see it as a test case in the ongoing struggle between journalistic integrity and political power.
Insiders at CBS News expect the segment to air the following Sunday, December 28, and anticipate that the controversy will draw significant viewership. Some see this as a textbook example of what’s been dubbed the “Trump Boomerang Effect”—the phenomenon where attempts by Trump or his allies to intimidate or silence critics end up amplifying the very stories they seek to suppress. As Old Goats with Jonathan Alter notes, this pattern has played out before, most notably when attempts to pressure ABC into canceling Jimmy Kimmel’s show only served to boost his profile.
But the CBS News incident is just one piece of a larger tapestry of events that have unfolded in the waning days of 2025. At the center is the controversial renaming of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. In a move that has been described as both “obscene” and “illegal” by critics, the institution was rechristened the Trump-Kennedy Center—a decision that, according to Mary Trump, niece of the former president and a psychologist, cannot legally be made without Congressional approval. “Also, last I checked, you’re not really supposed to be naming things after living presidents, current or former,” she told The Daily Beast podcast on December 18.
Mary Trump went further, offering a compassionate yet critical perspective on her uncle’s motivations. “He wants to turn every public space in America into some version of WWE or Ultimate Fighting,” she said, drawing a sharp contrast between President Trump’s taste and the cultural legacy of President John F. Kennedy. “It is just grotesque that he thinks that somehow this legitimizes him or gives him the same stature and standing as somebody like President Kennedy. But that’s partially why he’s doing it—for himself.”
Mary Trump believes the former president’s penchant for affixing his name to everything—from buildings to steaks to Bibles—is rooted in a deep-seated need for love and validation that, in her view, he has never truly received. “The only thing, the thing he most desperately wants in his life, is to be loved. He never has been sufficiently. He never will be. That is an impossible thing for him to achieve,” she explained. “It’s all in service to filling a black hole that is unfillable.”
The symbolism of renaming the Kennedy Center has not been lost on critics, who see it as emblematic of a broader trend during the Trump era: an aggressive push to rebrand public institutions in the president’s image. Yet, as Old Goats with Jonathan Alter points out, history is rarely kind to such efforts. Past attempts by powerful figures to immortalize themselves through grand gestures or monuments often backfire, leaving little behind but controversy and, sometimes, ridicule. The newsletter draws a parallel to Senator Joseph McCarthy, whose name is remembered more for an era of fear and suspicion than for any lasting honorifics. “There is nothing named for McCarthy in his hometown of Appleton, Wisconsin, where even MAGA Republicans have no interest in honoring him,” Alter notes, adding that at his peak, McCarthy polled higher than Trump ever has.
Even Trump’s most visible branding efforts face an uncertain future. While Trump Tower in New York will likely retain its name, government buildings and projects renamed during his presidency are expected to be stripped of their Trump monikers once political winds shift. “It’s clear that four or eight years from now—whenever Democrats make it back to the White House—this desecration will be removed,” writes Alter. The same fate likely awaits “The Trump Institute of Peace” and other government edifices bearing his name. “Every time he names something for himself, he’s tossing a boomerang—and lessening the odds of others naming something for him after he’s gone.”
Mary Trump’s critique extends beyond mere symbolism. She highlights the Trump administration’s record on the arts, noting that it has repeatedly sought to eliminate federal funding for the National Endowment for the Arts, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the Institute of Museum and Library Services. She contrasts this with President Kennedy’s vision, quoting from the words etched on the Kennedy Center’s facade: “I look forward to an America …which will reward achievement in the arts as we reward achievement in business or statecraft…which commands respect throughout the world not only for its strength but for its civilization as well.”
For many, the current moment feels like a collision between two visions of American public life—one rooted in the pursuit of cultural excellence and civic virtue, the other in personal branding and spectacle. The controversy over the Kennedy Center’s name change, and the media’s response to political pressure, have become flashpoints in a broader debate about the nation’s values and the legacy of its leaders.
As the dust settles, both supporters and detractors of Trump are left to ponder what, if anything, will endure from this era. Will the names and monuments survive, or will they fade into history, remembered more for the controversies they sparked than for any lasting tribute? If history is any guide, it may be the stories—the controversies, the pushbacks, the moments of defiance—that linger long after the names have been chiseled away.
