On a brisk December morning in Washington, D.C., workers arrived at the stately headquarters of the U.S. Institute of Peace, a symbol of American diplomatic ideals for decades. But this was no ordinary day. In a move that stunned many in the diplomatic and policy communities, large silver letters spelling out “Donald J. Trump” were affixed to the building’s facade, officially rebranding the institution as the Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace. The renaming, confirmed by the White House and visible for all to see on December 3, 2025, was the latest development in a contentious and ongoing battle for control of the institute—a nonprofit think tank established by Congress to promote peace and prevent conflict worldwide.
The drama surrounding the institute’s new name is only the tip of the iceberg. The story begins nearly nine months earlier, when the Trump administration, through the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), seized control of the U.S. Institute of Peace. The takeover was anything but peaceful. According to The New York Times, the administration fired most of the staff, “gutted the organisation,” and even dismantled fixtures bearing the institute’s iconic dove-and-olive-branch logo. The White House’s stated rationale? The institute was, in their words, a “bloated, useless entity that blew $50 million per year while delivering no peace.” Anna Kelly, a White House spokesperson, declared, “Now, the Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace, which is both beautifully and aptly named after a President who ended eight wars in less than a year, will stand as a powerful reminder of what strong leadership can accomplish for global stability.” She added, with a flourish, “Congratulations, world!” (as reported by the Associated Press and The Hill).
This aggressive approach did not go unchallenged. The institute, which had been operating in 26 conflict zones—including Pakistan, Afghanistan, Mali, and Burkina Faso—before the DOGE intervention, fought back in court. In spring 2025, the Trump administration fired the institute’s board and staff, transferring the building to the General Services Administration. But soon after, a federal district court ruled the government’s armed takeover was illegal, returning control to the institute’s leadership. That victory, however, was short-lived. Within weeks, a federal appeals court reversed the decision, putting the building back in government hands. As George Foote, a lawyer for the former institute leadership, put it, “A federal judge has already ruled that the government’s armed takeover was illegal. That judgment is stayed while the government appeals, which is the only reason the government continues to control the building.”
Despite the legal chaos—control of the headquarters has switched hands multiple times since March 2025—the Trump administration pressed ahead. The State Department announced the renaming on December 3, 2025, calling Trump “the greatest dealmaker in our nation’s history.” The building, nestled near the State Department on the National Mall, now bore the former president’s name in gleaming silver letters, positioned prominently next to the institute’s original engraved title. The White House presented the move as a testament to Trump’s diplomatic prowess, noting that the renaming “reflects the greatest dealmaker in our nation’s history.”
For Trump, the timing was no accident. The rebranding coincided with his ongoing campaign for a Nobel Peace Prize, as he sought to claim credit for ending a host of global conflicts, including the long-standing strife between Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. While Trump has spent months openly lobbying for the prestigious award—often touting his role in “easing a series of conflicts around the world”—his record is not without controversy. As the Associated Press reported, he also ordered strikes on suspected drug vessels off the coast of Venezuela and threatened that attacks on land could be coming—actions that critics argue hardly fit the spirit of peacemaking.
Yet, the administration’s efforts to recast Trump as a peacemaker were on full display as the renamed institute prepared to host a high-profile peace agreement signing. On December 4, 2025, the building was set to be the backdrop for the signing of a peace deal between Congo’s President Felix Tshisekedi and Rwanda’s President Paul Kagame. According to Yolande Makolo, a senior adviser to Kagame, high-ranking officials from the African Union, Angola, Burundi, Kenya, Togo, Qatar, Uganda, and the United Arab Emirates were also expected to attend. The event was widely seen as an opportunity for Trump to showcase his diplomatic credentials—one that the White House eagerly promoted. The institute’s website, still largely unchanged, featured a headline: “President Donald J. Trump to Sign Historic Peace Agreement at USIP Headquarters.”
Not everyone was celebrating. Former staff of the institute—many of whom continue their international work independently—planned to protest the signing ceremony. As reported by Newsweek and The New York Times, the renaming “adds insult to injury” for those who saw the institute as a vital, independent force for good. “The rightful owners will ultimately prevail,” Foote insisted, suggesting that the legal battle is far from over. A final decision on control of the building is expected from the appeals court in 2026.
The Institute of Peace’s origins stretch back to the 1980s, when Congress created it as a federally funded but independent body, with President Ronald Reagan signing the bill into law in 1985. Its headquarters, built in 2012 with private donations on Navy-owned land, was intended as a lasting monument to American efforts at conflict resolution. For decades, the institute worked outside the normal channels of the State Department, focusing on peacemaking, research, and training in some of the world’s most volatile regions.
But the Trump administration has argued that the institute should fall under executive authority, not remain an independent congressional creation. The White House’s criticism has been blunt: “The United States Institute of Peace was once a bloated, useless entity that blew $50 million per year while delivering no peace.” In the administration’s view, the rebranding marks a new era—one defined by what they call “strong leadership” and tangible results.
Meanwhile, speculation swirls that Trump may soon be awarded a new peace prize from FIFA on the sidelines of the World Cup draw in Washington, further fueling the narrative of Trump as a global peacemaker. Whether this reimagined legacy will endure remains to be seen. The courts have yet to render a final verdict, and former staff and supporters of the original institute are determined to fight on.
For now, the Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace stands as a striking—and controversial—reminder of the power struggles that can reshape even the most venerable institutions. As legal battles continue and the world turns its gaze to Washington, the future of American peacemaking hangs in the balance, its very name now a symbol of political contest as much as diplomatic ambition.
