Approved history only, please: President Donald Trump talks to Smithsonian Secretary David Skorton in front of the ‘Paradox of Liberty’ exhibit at the National Museum of African American History in 2017. The exhibit explores the complex story of slavery and freedom, which rests at the core of U.S. history. It begins in 15th-century Africa and Europe, extends up through the founding of the United States, and concludes with the nation’s transformation during the Civil War and Reconstruction. Thanks to Trump’s revisionist whitewashing of U.S. history, the exhibit’s future is in question. | AP
What happens when the guardians of our history are told what to remember—and what to forget?
President Donald Trump is on the warpath against historical accuracy and the museum curators who keep it alive for all of us. On Aug. 19, he posted to his Truth Social platform: “The Smithsonian is OUT OF CONTROL, where everything discussed is how horrible our Country is, how bad Slavery was, and how unaccomplished the downtrodden have been — Nothing about Success, nothing about Brightness, nothing about the Future.”
The social media barrage is the latest step in his campaign to whitewash and rewrite U.S. history. On March 27, 2025, he issued Executive Order 14253, “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History,” outlining a plan to return the Smithsonian Institution to its “rightful place as a symbol of inspiration and American greatness.” This directive calls for a sweeping “reform” of the museum sector, one designed to promote only those ideals deemed acceptable, while silencing narratives labeled as “corrosive ideology.”
In doing so, it lays dangerous groundwork for rewriting the nation’s story. Then, on Aug. 12—just days before the Truth Social assault on the Smithsonian—under the pretense of preparing for the United States’ 250th anniversary, the White House sent a formal request to Smithsonian Secretary Lonnie G. Bunch III demanding a broad set of internal materials for federal review.
These two actions represent a dangerous politicization of historical narrative, threatening curatorial independence, distorting public understanding of U.S. history, and undermining the core mission of museums as spaces for critical inquiry, truth-telling, and inclusive education.
The White House has now ordered the Smithsonian to provide a wide range of information, including details on upcoming 250th anniversary programs, current exhibit contents, internal governance policies, details of partnerships, and more. These materials requested would come from each of the Smithsonian institutions, with additional museums to be addressed in “Phase II,” to ensure that each museum complies with the president’s ideals of “Americanism.”
The first museums to be scrutinized include The National Museum of American History, The National Museum of Natural History, The National Museum of African American History and Culture, The National Museum of the American Indian, The National Air and Space Museum, The Smithsonian American Art Museum, The National Portrait Gallery, and the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden.
Collectively, these museums, which see millions of visitors each year, encompass not only the complicated history of our country but also provide insight into scientific advances, cultural phenomena, and artistic achievement—and all for no charge to the general public.
White House scrutiny isn’t about accuracy or “balance”
With this level of review in place, it cannot be forgotten that only in May, Trump called for the removal of Kim Sajet, director of the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery. While Sajet did leave of her own accord, Trump cited that her support of DEI was “inappropriate for her position” and called for her to be terminated from her position of 12 years.
Trump’s ongoing obsession with the Smithsonian museums could be thanks, in part, to “pro-Trump” artist Julian Raven, whose 2019 Trump-centered portrait, titled “Unafraid And Unashamed,” was rejected by the National Portrait Gallery. With the call for her removal fresh in mind, it begs the bigger question: Why are the requested materials problematic for the preservation of our nation’s history?
While studying Museum Cultures at the University of London, my fellow students and I were taught to critically examine who funds museums, as well as how that financial backing influences what the public sees. It became clear that large donors, overwhelmingly drawn from the economic elite, don’t just shape what is displayed; they shape how history is remembered, who is centered, and whose suffering is omitted.
Museums, like all institutions, are not immune to class hierarchies. When philanthropy becomes the lifeline of cultural memory, truth becomes subject to the tastes and comfort of the donor class.
As the former Executive Director of a rural contemporary art museum, this was never theoretical but rather a daily consideration for me. To keep our doors open, we had to navigate the fine line between staying true to our mission and aligning with the ideals of those holding the purse strings. This tension was front and center as we began planning for the 250th anniversary.
The members of our board discussed ways to honor American history while building a meaningful partnership with our local Native American tribe, aiming for a respectful, truthful narrative that acknowledged both the founding of our nation and the deep, painful history of the land’s original stewards. That’s why the federal request for sweeping internal documentation from the Smithsonian is so harrowing.
Sanitizing history is a class struggle strategy
Supporters of the administration argue this review simply ensures a more “balanced” representation of American history. Yet balance, when dictated by ideology rather than truth, is not balance at all—it is distortion.
Behind every ideological directive is a material interest. The White House’s attempt to reshape public memory through the Smithsonian isn’t just about patriotic aesthetics but about controlling the economic and political narrative. When history is curated to glorify the founding fathers while erasing the brutality of slavery, indigenous genocide, and labor exploitation, it protects the status quo: the wealthy, predominantly white elite who continue to benefit from unacknowledged systems of oppression.
Sanitized history isn’t just about comfort—it’s about capital. The erasure of hard truths helps justify modern-day exploitations: from prison labor that props up billion-dollar industries to the underfunding of public education that keeps working-class children from learning the tools of critique. A narrative that paints America as a land of uninterrupted opportunity masks the reality that generational wealth was built on stolen land and stolen labor—and still is. Rewriting history is not just a culture war tactic; it is a class war strategy.
Imagine walking through the National Museum of African American History and Culture, established in 2016 as “the only national museum devoted exclusively to the documentation of African American life.” You move through its galleries, expecting to confront the brutal legacy of slavery…only to find a whitewashed narrative that protects the image of traditional colonizers. No acknowledgment of injustice, no reflection on the enduring scars of systemic oppression.
Why? Because if we confront slavery’s horrors honestly, we risk exposing modern systems that echo its abuses—like forced prison labor. As the National Guard sweeps through Washington and unhoused individuals are arrested to “restore order” in the capital, it becomes clear why rewriting history isn’t a footnote of this administration’s plan—it’s the centerpiece.
Trump rewrites history
“Our goal is not to interfere with the day-to-day operations of curators or staff,” the White House claims, “but rather to support a broader vision of excellence that highlights historically accurate, uplifting, and inclusive portrayals of America’s heritage.” Consequently, their version of “accuracy” will be enforced through five targeted areas of control:
- Public-facing Content: From gallery labels and audio tours to social media captions, every word will be reviewed and pre-approved. This means curators—experts in their fields—must submit to political oversight on the very subjects they were trained to present. Even routine posts on museum Instagram accounts will be filtered to reflect the “ideal” version of American identity, sanitized for ideological purity. Truth, apparently, is not accurate unless it flatters.
- Curatorial Process: Staff interviews under the guise of “transparency” will examine how exhibitions are selected. But make no mistake: This is pressure in disguise. These interviews send a clear message: Comply or be replaced. Approved artists, such as Julian Raven, will be promoted not because of merit, but because of message.
- Exhibition Planning: While relating specifically to the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, they will ensure that “correct history” is at the forefront. This is going to come into play as we see histories of our Founding Fathers—at the 250th, we will certainly not hear of the controversies surrounding Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, or any other narrative that would paint these men in a negative light. The 250th should be a moment of reflection and reckoning, an opportunity to understand our founders as flawed men shaped by a flawed time. But under this directive, history will be polished clean. In this version, America’s founders are infallible, and our national story is one of uninterrupted righteousness. Americans, we’re told, have never done wrong and never will.
- Collection Use: While the review claims to focus on how collections can “better highlight” American progress, it also aims to identify which objects contradict the administration’s predetermined values. The goal isn’t just to spotlight patriotism—it’s to purge dissent. What happens to the pieces that challenge, complicate, or disrupt the sanitized national story being constructed? Will they be quietly sealed in archival boxes, waiting for a more honest future? Or worse, will they be discarded entirely, deemed too controversial, too uncomfortable, or too truthful to remain part of the American narrative? It’s a chilling prospect. Archivists and curators, many of whom have dedicated their lives to preserving history with integrity, now face the possibility of watching revered artifacts from one of the world’s most respected institutions reduced to ideological waste. The fact that such a question must even be asked is, in itself, deeply disturbing.
- Narrative Standards: These “narrative standards” are held to the original mission put forward by the Smithsonian, which was “for the increase and diffusion of knowledge.” But whose knowledge? Under whose terms? Founded in 1846, the Smithsonian has become one of the world’s most respected institutions, each of its museums pursuing truth through research, preservation, and education. Under this new directive, those missions may be contorted to serve propaganda, not public understanding. Ironically, this might have been a task for the Department of Education if it hadn’t already been gutted in the broader war against critical thinking in America.
The materials requested from the Smithsonian for review will be meticulously examined by the administration to ensure no detail escapes its ideological comb. From budgetary reports to itemized inventories of museum collections, every facet will be scrutinized to determine what aligns with the so-called “American Dream” and what falls into the category of “unsuitable propaganda.”
The good old red, WHITE, and blue
With this level of access, the administration gains the ability to dictate not just what is displayed, but what is deemed worthy of preservation at all. Whether an object is in a gallery or stored deep in the archives, it will be subject to the administration’s approval, filtered through the lens of a carefully constructed national ideal. This process strips curators and historians of their expertise and authority, replacing it with political oversight. Even educational materials will be reshaped to reflect this vision—carefully edited to instill the “right” lessons in students.
Perhaps it’s for the best that the Department of Education won’t interfere; the indoctrination can proceed unchallenged, ensuring future generations are spoon-fed the “correct” narrative instead of developing the critical thinking skills that might challenge it. After all, the ideal American, in this vision, wears a red hat, boasts European genetics, and embodies the mythology of blue-collar grit. No nuance, no contradiction, no complexity allowed—just the good old red, WHITE, and blue.
Before the year ends, we may witness the slow, hollow decay of American history, reshaped to fit a sanitized, state-approved narrative: that the United States was founded by morally infallible white Christian men seeking freedom from tyranny. This story, spoon-fed to my rural classroom of white students through private education, is nothing new. But what’s different now is the heightened effort to cement it as the only story.
This administration’s policies threaten to make it increasingly difficult for young minds to untangle themselves from the vines of historical distortion. As these students grow older—particularly those from working-class and marginalized backgrounds—they may never learn how the myths they were taught limit their ability to question power. Education becomes not a path to liberation, but a mechanism of control.
When history is stripped of contradiction and complexity, it keeps people from understanding how exploitation functions in wages, housing, healthcare, and carceral systems. If students are taught that the “American Dream” is universally attainable, then poverty, discrimination, or failure must be individual faults, not structural ones.
As we now see, the effort to rewrite the past doesn’t stop at textbooks. It extends into art, science, and public memory itself. Of the 157 million items held across the Smithsonian’s 21 branches, nearly 148 million belong to the Museum of Natural History. This means that any and every one of these objects will be put to the test, and each one will have to prove its worth in the MAGA version of the American story.
As we approach the 250th anniversary of our nation—an event museums have been thoughtfully preparing for years—we’re witnessing a calculated shift in how our story will be told. The administration aims to complete its review of the first group of Smithsonian branches by the end of this year, with a second phase planned to bring the remaining institutions into alignment.
By July 4th, 2026, the version of history on display may be one carefully sanitized to fit a narrow narrative. Gone will be the inconvenient truths: that the Declaration of Independence was voted on July 2, 1776, not the 4th, and not signed until Aug. 2. These facts are historically accurate, yet they conflict with the myth we’ve long been taught to celebrate. We wouldn’t want to confuse anyone with too much truth, because the less room there is for independent thought, the easier it is to mold minds into quiet compliance.
We can only hope that, in all the ways President Trump has been likened to authoritarian figures, he might yet share one redeeming trait: a reverence for cultural history. Perhaps that alone will spare fragments of our nation’s complex, irreplaceable story from being erased—even if they end up hanging silently in Mar-a-Lago. But hope is not enough. We cannot sit idle while ideologies attempt to rewrite our past for political convenience. Erasure is not preservation. Sanitized myths are not education.
The battle for historical truth is not just for scholars and curators. It belongs to workers, teachers, parents, union organizers, students—all those whose lives are shaped by the systems our history should help us understand. If we allow our past to be rewritten in the service of power, we will lose the tools to dismantle injustice in the present. Class solidarity means standing together to preserve the truth, because only by understanding the full story of America, in all its brutality and brilliance, can we begin to build something better.
Our scars tell the truth of who we are. They are not weaknesses, but wisdom earned. Better to be guided by a hand that has known hardship and learned humility than by one that clutches power without reflection. Let us be that guiding hand—for each other, for future generations, and for the truth itself.
History does not belong to those in power; it belongs to all of us. Let’s defend it.
As with all op-eds published by People’s World, the views presented here are those of the authors.
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