History is written by the winners

In March 2025, President Trump signed an executive order titled “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History.” This directive targeted the Smithsonian Institution, demanding that the Smithsonian Vice President remove “improper ideology” (Sec. 2a) from its museums, exhibits and educational materials. It also instructed the Department of the Interior to restore any monuments or content removed since 2020, claiming that these memorials have been removed or changed “to perpetuate a false reconstruction of American history, inappropriately minimize the value of certain historical events or figures, or include any other improper partisan ideology” (Sec. 4ai).

Trump justified the order by claiming that “Over the past decade, Americans have witnessed a concerted and widespread effort to rewrite our Nation’s history, replacing objective facts with a distorted narrative driven by ideology rather than truth.  This revisionist movement seeks to undermine the remarkable achievements of the United States by casting its founding principles and historical milestones in a negative light.” (Sec. 1)

By summer, the White House had escalated its interference. Smithsonian Secretary Lonnie Bunch met with Trump following mounting pressure from the administration to sanitize exhibits. The White House even released a “woke list” of Smithsonian exhibits deemed problematically ideological, including those involving race, gender identity, slavery, immigration, and social justice.

In addition, Trump has publicly lambasted the Smithsonian’s portrayal of American history, complaining on social media that “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.” He also took direct action to erase unflattering parts of his presidency from the museum’s record. Under pressure from his administration, the Smithsonian removed references to his two impeachments from a presidential exhibit—effectively rewriting a chapter of history. The Smithsonian has since restored the plaque, but with significant changes. The description of his second impeachment has been changed to remove claims that he repeatedly made “false statements” about losing the 2020 election, along with a quote from the impeachment article saying his speech “encouraged — and foreseeably resulted in — lawless action at the Capitol.”

Critics and historians have compared these moves to authoritarian censorship. Trump’s effort to recast public memory in a narrower, cheerier light by minimizing slavery, race and systemic injustice, cuts at the heart of historical truth. His framing of history as a tool for “unity” pretends that national pride can only thrive if its dark moments are swept under the rug.

This is concerning. When politicians try to dictate what belongs in our textbooks or museums, they are not just debating facts; they are deciding whose voices matter, whose suffering counts and whose victories get remembered. Trump’s push for a “patriotic” version of the American past is part of a broader effort to sanitize our nation’s story. It may sound like a call for “unity” or “progress,” but in reality, it is propaganda: an attempt to reshape the national narrative so that the “winners,” overwhelmingly white, male and privileged, look not just powerful, but benevolent.

This problem is not new. History has always been written by those who hold power. In the United States, that has meant presenting slavery as a sad but secondary footnote rather than the engine of the economy, erasing the genocide of Native Americans behind the language of “westward expansion” and downplaying the violence faced by those who fought for civil rights. For generations, textbooks, monuments, and films presented the Confederacy not as a rebellion to preserve slavery, but as a noble struggle for “states’ rights.” This deliberate rewriting of history wasn’t an accident. The story that emerges is one where America steadily marches toward freedom, led by wise men who occasionally stumbled but ultimately always knew best. That is not history — it is mythmaking.

When politicians argue that we must minimize these uncomfortable truths in the name of “unity,” they are not protecting the country; they are protecting themselves. A country cannot move forward if it refuses to confront the full weight of its past. If we instead explore history honestly, learning that “winning” often comes at the expense of others’ dignity, land and lives, then we are better equipped to build a future that does not repeat those patterns.

That is why the fight over history is never just about the past. It is about who gets to define America’s identity today and who will be allowed to shape its future. Leaders who call for “patriotic” education are not asking us to love our country more; they are asking us to love their version of it: a version that erases the people their power has oppressed.

Photo by Kristina Gadeikyte via Uplash.

When we talk about colonization, we usually focus on land, armies and political control. But Great Britain’s empire-building wasn’t limited to geography. It also involved the mass appropriation of art and cultural heritage. Much of that legacy is still sitting in British museums today, far from the communities that created it.

Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, as Britain expanded across Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, it also collected, or more accurately, took an enormous amount of art. Religious relics, royal treasures, sculptures, and manuscripts were removed from colonized nations, often through violence, coercion or exploitation. These objects were shipped back to London and celebrated as symbols of Britain’s supposed cultural superiority.

The British Museum stands as the clearest example of this legacy. Established in 1753, it houses millions of artifacts from around the world, many of which arrived during the peak of imperial expansion. One of the most famous (and controversial) cases is the Elgin Marbles, taken from the Parthenon in Greece by Lord Elgin in the early 1800s. Despite decades of requests from Greece, the marbles remain in London. The story is similar for the Rosetta Stone, which Britain seized from Egypt after defeating Napoleon’s forces in 1799.

Britain’s colonization of art wasn’t just about taking objects. It was about reshaping narratives of culture and civilization. Non-Western art was often exhibited as anthropology rather than high art. African sculptures, Indigenous American artifacts and Asian ceramics were categorized as curiosities, reinforcing racist ideas about Western superiority and “primitive” others. This practice didn’t just misrepresent the art itself; it actively undermined the cultures that produced it.

While some institutions, like the Horniman Museum in London, have begun making small steps toward restitution, many, including the British Museum, have remained resistant, often citing legal barriers or claiming that the artifacts are part of global heritage. But critics argue that real global heritage cannot be built on theft and denial.

Art is not just decorative. It is deeply tied to history, memory, and identity. Keeping these works in British institutions without consent perpetuates the very inequalities created by the Empire. Britain’s colonization of art didn’t end when the Empire did; it is still happening in how museums display, narrate and justify possession today.