The Presidential Palace

Few expressions grate more on my delicate democratic sensibilities than “Presidential Palace”. It conjures images of overfed tyrants in mirrored sunglasses, waving from gold-plated balconies while the plebs queue for rice. It’s a term that reeks of powdered wigs, martial parades, and kleptocrats clutching sceptres shaped like Kalashnikovs.

The word presidential ought to denote someone democratically elected to serve the people. But pair it with palace and suddenly you're not thinking of a public servant – you're picturing a banana republic generalissimo, freshly self-promoted from “interim transitional authority” to “Supreme Guide for Life”.

Now, you may ask, which countries still use this ludicrous term? Quite a few, actually – mostly those with a taste for velvet curtains, ceremonial guards who’ve clearly been up since 4 a.m. polishing their brass buttons, and constitutions that are updated more often than a teenager’s TikTok profile. Egypt has a Presidential Palace. So does Syria. Kazakhstan? Tick. Uzbekistan? Naturally. The Democratic Republic of Congo has at least two – because nothing says “democratic” quite like multiple palaces. Even Turkey, once a proud secular republic, built a £500 million monstrosity for Erdoğan that looks like Stalin and Donald Trump collaborated on a Bond villain lair.

Let’s not pretend this is about shelter or practicality. You don’t need 1,000 rooms to sign a bit of legislation. This is about theatre – grand, ego-fluffing, tax-funded theatre. It’s Versailles with PowerPoint.

Contrast this with the UK, where our Prime Minister operates from Number 10 – a fairly modest terraced house with a door that won’t open from the outside. Say what you like about our archaic rituals and ermine-clad Lords, but at least we haven’t started calling Chequers the “Prime Ministerial Palace of Chilternia”.

I mean, really – Presidential Palace? If your leader needs a palace, then your country probably needs a revolution. Or at the very least, a reality check.

Words matter. “Presidential residence” is neutral. “Presidential quarters” – fine. Even “Presidential House” has a certain no-nonsense, Protestant restraint. But “palace”? That’s just Versailles syndrome in a polyester suit.

If you're going to insist on having a Presidential Palace, then don’t be surprised when your democracy comes with a side order of jackboots and a state TV channel called “The Leader’s Voice”.

It’s the linguistic equivalent of wearing epaulettes to a budget meeting.