We are witnessing a wholesale erasure of history across federal agencies and programs that have worked tirelessly over the years to interpret our shared past in an inclusive and balanced manner. Whether we are talking about the National Park Service, the US Army, or any number of other agencies, what we are seeing has nothing to do with an honest attempt to critique the past.
In fact, it is a rejection of critical thought entirely. The erasure of images, narratives, and photographs is being carried out to serve little more than the will of the current occupant of The White House.
It is born out of ignorance and fear. W.E.B. DuBois once said: “Either the United States will destroy ignorance or ignorance will destroy the United States.” DuBois certainly knew something about this. He challenged deep-seated myths about Reconstruction that served to prop up white supremacy during the Jim Crow era and watched as the nation looked away from the brave military service of thousands of African Americans, who answered their nation’s call to ‘Make the World Safe for Democracy.’
As a historian, the last thing I want to do is ignore the fact that public debates over history and history education constitute a new development in our politics and public discourse. The so-called ‘history wars,’ indeed, has a long history.
But whethere it is a debate that I’ve lived through or have read about, I’ve always been able to identify and explain the competing positions.
In broad strokes, on one side is a position that views history as an opportunity to rally Americans around a shared narrative rooted in our founding principles outlined in the Declaration of Independence and other documents. It views the United States—in language that tends to vary—as an imperfect nation, but one that has brought positive change to the world and at home and which must continue to strive toward that twin goal.
In this view, history serves the interest of the nation-state. The fact is that we live in a nation with borders. In such an expansive nation, history can bring us together around a shared narrative, culture, and values. Of course, there is always the danger of embracing an extreme nationalism that seeks to define the nation by excluding others and their respective cultures. This tension between liberal and illiberal values has always been with us.
The other side is skeptical about this approach to history and history education. It emphasizes the attention traditionally lavished on elites at the expense of those at the bottom and groups that have been marginalized. We certainly have plenty of examples of this throughout our history. This approach tends to resist the possibility of a shared narrative and instead locates freedom’s march in the form of protests and other grassroots movements led by various minorities.
I’ve always found value in both approaches as a historian and history educator. I agree with historian Jill Lepore that we need a shared narrative: “I think we suffer as a citizenry to not have that, because what gets done in its place is pretty terrible and corrosive and partisan and people tell all these tales about the past and there’s no way to dispute them or engage in a deeper way with them, because there’s no sense of a shared past. I decided to give it a try.”
I also believe that we can talk about progress in this country without embracing a simplistic and self-serving notion of ‘American Exceptionalism.’
But I also worry about the fine line between the importance of a shared narrative and a narrative that is used to reinforce any one person’s or group’s understanding of the nation and/or nationalism. Finally, much of my own fascination with American history and understanding of progress comes from recent scholarship focusing on historically marginalized groups.
Our diversity is our strength as a nation.
I will venture to suggest that, in this regard, I have something in common with the majority of Americans. In short, we recognize the importance of a shared narrative that is inclusive and honest about the history of our country’s successes and failures.
I say all of this to point out that the ongoing efforts of the Trump administration largely fall outside of this framework. What we are seeing has nothing to do with achieving balance or fairness in our understanding of the past.
The Trump administration is tearing down the very infrastructure that has functioned to protect significant historic sites and that supports honest and careful historical inquiry from grant programs to funding for history education.
The destruction is the point.
Make no mistake, it is going to take years to undo this damage and we are only roughly seven weeks into this administration. There appear to be no guardrails to challenge decisions that have now resulted in the deletion of photographs of the B-29 Superfortress Enola Gay from federal government websites simply because it has the word ‘gay’ in it.
Will the positions that have been terminated across our federal government ever be reinstated? Will there be people willing to fill these positions in the future? What will happen to all of the historical content that has been erased and will continue to be erased in the days, weeks, and years to come? Will there be people in the future willing to create new content for the benefit of all of us?
What are the consequences for a nation that intentionally and maliciously rejects or distorts the history of large sections of its citizenry?
I pray that we won’t have to find out.
It’s the white washing of history, pun intended.
In his first term, I used to laugh about Trump's historical ignorance. His comment on Frederick Douglass doing "more and more" was a recurring punchline in my brain, reminding me not to take his presidency too seriously or to worry too much about its implications. His "River of Blood" marker at his golf course seemed quirky at best, ignorant at worst. Things got a bit more contentious near the end of his term as his rhetoric intensified against teachers and teachers unions, but with the pandemic, there were too many other things to worry about.
But--and I welcome your and others' take on this--it feels much more intentional and malicious this time around. Somewhere, in the space between 2017 and today, Trump has learned the power of history, if not the dates, underlying themes, or esoteric debates. What he has learned that historical memory matters. He has come to intuitively understand that, just as it can unite, history can also divide. He knows it can be a major front on the culture war and he has been eager to spare no realm with which to wage this war aggressively. He has found people in his circle that *do* know the history and how to leverage its "pressure points" to inflict maximum damage on public history and history education in public schools. In various ways, we are witnesses to him weaponizing our past.
More than ignorance and fear, I think Trump is intentionally trying to shut down questioning, inhibit an appreciation of diversity, contort our history, and twist our heroes into one that fits his image and likeness; this will allow him to pave the groundwork for increased executive control. I shudder to think of what July 4. 2026 will look like under his presidency. How he will rationalize a document that declared the universality of equality and the strength of democracy is mind boggling to consider.
With federal employees losing jobs, widespread worried about Social Security, J6 perpetrators pardoned, and our Western alliances shattered, it is easy to believe there are bigger things to worry about. But by waging a war on history, he is creating a tear in our national fabric that will allow him to consolidate power to inflict further damage.