History is not meant to be comfortable. It’s a vast, often contradictory, and frequently challenging chronicle of human endeavor, filled with moments of breathtaking courage and moments of profound shame.
Editorial
To demand, as the White House recently has, that our nation’s premier historical institution, the Smithsonian, present only a “unifying” and “constructive” version of our past is to demand a fantasy. It’s an attempt to trade the messy, instructive truth of our history for a sanitized, politically convenient myth.
The administration’s directive to launch a sweeping review of the Smithsonian’s exhibits to remove “divisive or ideologically driven language” is a chilling affront to intellectual freedom. The very premise of the order is flawed. What part of American history is not, in some way, divisive?
- The Revolutionary War, which pitted colonists against the British crown and neighbor against neighbor, was the very definition of divisive.
- The fight to abolish slavery and the subsequent Civil War tore the nation asunder.
- The struggle for civil rights, women’s suffrage, and labor rights were all deeply divisive conflicts that challenged the existing power structures.
These aren’t just inconvenient details we can smooth over by executive fiat; they’re the vessels in which our nation’s character was forged. To erase the language of division from these stories is to erase their meaning. It robs us of the essential lessons they hold. A history without division is a history without struggle, and a history without struggle is a history without progress.
Museums like those under the Smithsonian’s umbrella are not meant to be temples of nationalistic self-congratulation. They are vital forums for public education, critical thought, and national reflection. Their purpose is to present the past, backed by rigorous scholarship and historical evidence, in all of its complexity. The role of a curator is that of an educator, not a propagandist. They are tasked with providing context, not with enforcing a state-approved narrative. When the government presumes to “correct” their work based on political palatability, the line between education and indoctrination is dangerously blurred.
This effort to “restore truth and sanity” is, in reality, an attempt to install a single, authorized version of the American story, an act of censorship that underestimates Americans’ intelligence. We don’t need the government to shield us from the uncomfortable aspects of our past; rather, we need access to the full story, so we can grapple with it, learn from it, and draw our own informed conclusions.
True patriotism is not found in a blind allegiance to a flawless, imaginary past. It is found in the courage to confront our history honestly—to celebrate our triumphs while acknowledging our failures. The Smithsonian Institution is a repository of our collective memory, the good and the bad. We must fiercely protect its integrity from political interference and resist any effort to whitewash the American story. Our past, unvarnished, is not a threat; it is our greatest teacher.