Donald Trump has moved to transform a nominally apolitical celebration of America’s 250th anniversary into a stage for his own political revival, after the mass withdrawal of headline musical acts from the Great American State Fair. The president announced on Saturday that he would himself open the 16-day event on Washington’s National Mall, dismissing the departing performers as “overpaid, third-rate” and proposing a “giant MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN RALLY” in their stead. Organisers, the White House-backed group Freedom 250, confirmed that Mr Trump would “personally kick off this historic celebration” on June 25.

The cancellations, which saw at least five of nine acts quit within hours of being announced, reflect growing unease among artists about the fair’s political subtext. Musicians including Bret Michaels of Poison and country star Martina McBride said they had been misled about the event’s partisan ties. Freedom 250, a non-profit established last year by the Trump administration with a CEO appointed directly by the president, insists the fair is non-partisan, but its close association with Mr Trump has proved impossible to shake. The withdrawals underscore a deepening cultural rift, where participation in national pageantry is increasingly seen as an endorsement of the incumbent.

Viewed from Washington, the episode fits a pattern of the president co-opting state occasions for political advantage. His social media tirade went further, linking the concert cancellations to his withdrawal from the Kennedy Center after a federal judge ordered his name removed from the performing arts institution—a signal, critics say, that he views any curtailment of his personal imprint as an affront. “I am thinking about bringing the Number One Attraction anywhere in the World,” he wrote, “the man who some say is the Greatest President in History.”

Foreign capitals are watching with a mixture of bemusement and concern. Australian and Brazilian outlets, which normally treat such American events with detached curiosity, have foregrounded the raw politicisation. Japanese and Indonesian reports, meanwhile, focus on the fair’s organisational chaos and the stark symbolism of a president replacing cancelled artists with himself. Analysts in London note that the controversy risks undercutting the soft-power potential of a celebration meant to project national unity to the world.

As the fair approaches, the risk is that the National Mall—a space historically dedicated to civic gathering—becomes a rally ground for a narrow base. While Freedom 250 promises pavilions and rides alongside the revamped opening, the spectacle may reinforce, at home and abroad, a narrative of a country divided not by foreign threats but by the very definition of patriotism. The 250th anniversary, once an opportunity for collective reflection, appears to be sliding into another front in America’s culture wars.