Instead of heroes, the Smithsonian feeds kids grievance lessons
In 2021, a poll showed that only one-third (36%) of Americans between the ages of 18 and 24 were “very” proud to be Americans. Another third stated they were only slightly or not at all proud of their country. Ten years earlier, Pew Research anticipated the trend when it noted that the rate of Millennials who called themselves “very patriotic” fell from 80% in 2003 to 70% in 2011.
Part of a national museum’s job is to prevent that outcome. Preserving the historical truth is a high purpose, but so is instilling the sentiment of gratitude. America’s museums can and should do both.
Visitors to the Smithsonian should leave the building with warm feelings of pride, thankfulness, and patriotism.
Instead, as of this writing, if you visit the home page of the Smithsonian’s Museum of American History, the very first exhibit you see is the Greensboro lunch counter from the famous sit-in of 65 years ago. The text introducing the exhibit gives visitors the first fact they are supposed to learn about the American past: “Racial segregation was still legal in the United States on February 1, 1960.”
The curators could have chosen something else as a first impression — a triumphant fact, not a guilty one. They could have highlighted America’s victory in the Cold War or the religious freedom and economic opportunity that drew the Puritans from England, the Irish during the famine of the 1840s, and Jews from Eastern Europe at the turn of the 20th century. Or they could have showcased the founding documents themselves, which have inspired Democratic reformers worldwide for 250 years. But they didn’t.
Beneath the photo of the lunch counter are three other objects chosen from the Smithsonian’s collections. One is the table on which women at Seneca Falls drafted a declaration of rights in 1848. The second is the 1861 badge of a member of a volunteer African-American firefighting company in Charleston, South Carolina. The third is a sign for a community center in Washington, D.C., founded in 1988 to serve pregnant Latina immigrants. For the needy, the ones battling for rights and freedom, women, and minorities, the theme is that American history is a tale of the identity-oppressed struggling to overcome their oppression.
Again, this is what the curators select as their introduction to the institution — and to America. They have a knack for creating accusatory first impressions.
‘Key concepts’
If you enter the museum building from the Mall side and pass through security, immediately to your right is a huge display window with a red banner behind it: “Fight the Virus, NOT the People.” Two lines of Cantonese script run below it. Above the banner are small signs in red and white that command, “STOP Asian Hate,” “STOP Racism,” “We Want Justice,” and “STOP Asian Bashing.”
The banner comes from a movement in San Francisco’s Chinatown after the COVID-19 outbreak of 2020, which led to the community “being shunned, even targeted,” according to the accompanying text. The curators go on to regret that “Asian Americans have been subject to racist scapegoating and violence so often in the past.”
Visitors from far and wide get the message as they pause in the lobby, often with kids in tow, and orient themselves to the collection: America is a place of racial danger. Even in a city as prosperous and liberal as San Francisco, Asian-Americans are not safe. The story told by the display is that their shaky status in a racist polity has produced a poignant plea we should all remember: “Stop the Hate!”
This is an ongoing trend. The Smithsonian’s National Youth Summit topic for 2020 was “Teen Resistance to Systemic Racism.” For 2021, it was “Gender Equity.” The museum’s education page has a “Becoming Us” resource that offers teachers case studies and lesson plans to foster “a more accurate and inclusive migration and immigration narrative.” Until recently, we are to assume, the narrative of immigration has been narrow and distorted. “Becoming Us” is a correction. Among the “Key concepts” students should absorb are:
- “Race is a social construct.”
- “Arguments about national identity, security, and patriotism have been employed to target different groups at different times in U.S. history.”
- “Laws and policies are enacted to restrict, encourage, or reform migration in ways that exclude specific populations.”
- “The cultural diversity of the United States is similar to other nations around the world, particularly post-colonial nations, but also unique in important ways.”
It’s a characteristically tendentious layout. Arguments about security, for instance, are employed for many other reasons besides the persecution of disfavored demographic groups. A large exhibit gives visitors further reminders of American injustice. The entrance to the section on the Revolutionary War features a 1774 quotation from a freed black writer addressed to advocates of independence: “I need not point out the absurdity of your exertions for liberty, while you have slaves in your house.”
A few feet away, we learn that we shouldn’t celebrate the success of the American founding too much since “the Revolutionary promise was unclear. Women had few political rights, and girls’ education, when available, focused on domestic and social skills like needlework and dancing.” From there follows much more material on slavery before we turn to religion in the 19th century.
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Although the United States had extraordinary religious diversity and freedom relative to other nations in 1850, we fell short again according to a note on “Religious and Utopian Communities on the Mississippi.” It says, “Though the United States promised freedoms, those who practiced different religions and ways of life were not always accepted.”
The examples cited are Mormons and the Icarians, a group of European utopians. Then come the black, Japanese-American, and Mexican veterans, returning from war and “fighting for respect” at home. The Chinese were harassed in Chicago. The Mexicans were attacked in Los Angeles (ironically titled “Los Angeles — City of Promise”). And so on.
Miracle on Pennsylvania Ave.
The Trump administration has good reason to review the Smithsonian’s federal funding, critique its ideological agenda, and put pressure on it to change its ways. The Museum of American History has some wonderful installations, such as those showcasing actual battle conditions for American soldiers and the dresses of first ladies. But the identity tales are far too many, the resentment far too thick.
The curators can’t even report on the stunning success of the Broadway show “Hamilton” without an acerbic, identitarian edge: “Through rap and hip-hop — and non-white casting — ‘Hamilton’ made this history accessible and relatable to audiences of color and gave more people a sense of ownership of American history.”
“Becoming Us” speaks of a better “narrative,” which is clearly a counternarrative to American exceptionalism and American greatness, a story of broken promises, unequal rights, and too many white men. Despite the term “narrative,” the curators clearly consider it the indisputable truth. However, they may protest, they’re not really relativists — they’re realists.
National museums have a noble purpose, one parallel to that of the military. Soldiers maintain our security; curators maintain our patrimony.
The spread of woke historiography in the public sphere is a 21st-century phenomenon, but if you’ve been in academia, you’ve experienced it long before Black Lives Matter came along. I watched the slow occupation of the humanities during the ’80s and ’90s, as the World War II generation of professors retired and young ones took their place with an utterly different conception of what academic labor should be and do.
In a word, they added social change to disciplinary duties.
Officials in the museum and library world did the same, and they guard their positions today with zeal. These people leave no room open for debate. You can’t interact with those who think you’re lying. If you suggest a more positive vision of the American past, they peg you as an apologist, a chauvinist, or worse. They attribute selfish motives to you; they don’t believe you or trust your facts. Disagree with them and you get a condescending sneer.
These are the people who have seized our cultural and educational institutions, and they’re not going to let go just because you have persuasive evidence.
A national obligation
Of course, a national museum can’t operate this way. It has an obligation to represent the country in an honest but appreciative light. Visitors to the Smithsonian should leave the building with warm feelings of pride, thankfulness, and patriotism. Less victimhood, with its unsettling mix of resentment and sentimentality, more heroism and celebration. The overall approach to America should be exactly what President Donald Trump laid out in his July 4, 2020, speech at Mount Rushmore. At the very words “Fourth of July,” he said, “every American heart should swell with pride.”
Trump positioned 1776 as the continuation of “thousands of years of Western civilization” and set his sights on an “unstoppable march of freedom” from that year forward. He cited the violence and vandalism of that dark summer of 2020 and tied it to “years of extreme indoctrination and bias in education, journalism, and other cultural institutions.” He elaborated:
Our children are taught in school to hate their own country and to believe that the men and women who built it were not heroes, but were villains. … All perspective is removed, every virtue is obscured, every motive is twisted, every fact is distorted, and every flaw is magnified.
The president’s response to those trends wasn’t a counter-critique. It was a barrage of counterexamples: the leadership of George Washington, the brilliance of Thomas Jefferson, the convictions of Abraham Lincoln, the courage of Teddy Roosevelt, our religious principles, the uplifting message of Martin Luther King Jr., the Wright brothers, Clara Barton, the Hoover Dam, the Manhattan skyline, Walt Whitman, Mark Twain, Irving Berlin, Ella Fitzgerald, the Ford F-150. These are the proper ingredients of the Smithsonian collections, placed up front where they belong.
Again, parts of the Museum of American History showcase some of those very American idols. But others downplay or dismiss them. The museum’s installations and web pages are a lighter version of the woke lessons that you hear in American Studies classrooms in higher education and find in social studies learning standards in blue states. They aren’t outright anti-American — they are only critical of “greatness” and “exceptionalism.” But that’s enough to justify action.
“Americans must never lose sight of this miraculous story,” Trump concluded at Mount Rushmore. The presentation by the museum is designed to obscure and diminish that miraculous side of things.
RELATED: 'White people bad': CNN panel crushed over embarrassing Smithsonian exhibits
A noble purpose
A nation cannot thrive if its citizens have no civic pride and patriotic devotion. They won’t defend its borders or work for the national interest. A guilty past weakens the present. People want to believe that their home is a joyful, virtuous place. The shadow of a shameful heritage blunts their confidence. They’re in a culture war without sufficient arms. It is not too cynical to think that this is one intention of the curators.
National museums have a noble purpose, one parallel to that of the military. Soldiers maintain our security; curators maintain our patrimony. If the president manages to orient the Smithsonian to American greatness, academics and journalists, as well as scholarly associations, will grumble and condemn. Charges of whitesplaining, bigotry, propaganda, racism, and xenophobia will follow. So what? Just do it — the people will cheer.
Editor’s note: This article was originally published at the American Mind.
After Charlie Kirk’s Assassination, Sitting On The Sidelines Isn’t An Option
On Wednesday, conservative titan Charlie Kirk was murdered while speaking on a college campus in Utah. His crime? Sharing the Gospel, defending the family unit, and loving his country. His ideas weren’t fringe. They’re the values millions of ordinary Americans hold themselves — and that’s why Kirk’s assassination has shaken people so deeply. Kirk wasn’t […]Ask yourself the one question that separates patriots from pretenders
As we honor the brave souls who laid down their lives for this country and salute those who fought for our freedom, a deeper question should rise within us.
Not one that simply tests our loyalty to the red, white, and blue or willingness to die for our flag, but this: Would you live for your country?
This country doesn’t need more empty promises of sacrifice. It needs people willing to show up every day with integrity and courage.
I once sat across from a young, bright-eyed man, eager to prove himself, training to become a Navy SEAL. I asked him to write down a single question: Would you die for your country? He nodded solemnly as he scribbled it onto a notepad. Then I told him to cross out “die” and write “live.”
That shift in wording — so simple — completely changed his posture. The romanticism of martyrdom dimmed in the light of daily responsibility. Living for something demands consistency, humility, and effort. It’s the long haul.
I then asked him to add "your family" and "my family" to the sentence. “Would you live for your country, your family, and my family?” That’s when the gravity hit him. Because if you won’t live for them — serve, protect, uphold — then you don’t deserve the honor of dying for them.
A lot of men say they’d die for their country because they assume they’ll never have to. But living for your country? That’s actionable. That starts now — in how you lead your home, how you love your neighbor, how you contribute to your community.
This country doesn’t need more empty promises of sacrifice. It needs people willing to show up every day with integrity and courage.
We are living in a destabilized America. The erosion didn’t begin with foreign powers. It began when we stopped holding ourselves and each other accountable. We began to celebrate selfishness over service, confusion over clarity, and chaos over order. When morality and justice become flexible, small government becomes impossible. That vacuum invites control. And when people abandon responsibility, tyranny grows in its place.
I’ve worked in environments where destabilizing a country was the goal, where operations were designed to light the fuse and let the people do the rest. Sadly, I see a similar fuse burning in our own nation.
When law is no longer tied to truth and truth becomes subjective, the foundation cracks. Evil ideas dressed as compassion are pushed forward under the guise of progress. But make no mistake: Confusion is not compassion. Chaos is not freedom. And evil, when legalized, is still evil.
So what do we do? We take ownership. We return to righteousness.
I used to think I was doing enough by building a business, raising my kids, and being a decent husband. But I delegated too much. I assumed the school system would take care of my children’s education. I trusted the government to protect what’s right.
That was a mistake.
The top is broken. It’s time we fix it from the ground up, starting with ourselves. We’re not in charge of them. We’re in charge of us.
As men and women of faith, we were born with purpose and calling. The Bible tells us we are a royal priesthood, but too many of us live like powerless pawns. Why? Because we've forgotten who we are. We fear the consequences of standing up, but fail to see the greater danger in staying seated.
When I look around, I see a nation waiting for leadership — not from Washington, but from our homes, churches, and communities. Men, it’s time to get back in the fight. Not with fists, but with faith. Not with rage, but with righteousness.
Start by asking: What do I bring to the table? What am I doing to make this country better today? You don’t need to be a soldier to serve. You need to be someone of character who says, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”
I recently read Ezekiel 22:30 to a group at my church: “I searched for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand in the gap … but I found no one.” I asked, “What if Jesus came back today and found no one standing in the gap for this nation?” A little boy stood up and shouted, “I’ll be that man!”
That boldness — unfiltered and unafraid — is what we need more of.
This Fourth of July, don’t just wave the flag — embody what it stands for. Choose to live for your country. Live with integrity. Live with purpose. Live in a way that honors your family and the generations that came before us.
If we start living like that, others will follow. Only then can we fill in the gap and rebuild the wall.
9 reasons we (still) love America — and you should too
1. We're incurable optimists
If you're on music duty for the barbecue this weekend, don't overlook "Little Pink Houses."
The John Cougar Mellencamp classic is a dependable crowd-pleaser because it's one of those songs people tend to forget they love. At least until it gets to the first "Ain't that America?" — at which point everybody's singing along. An essential addition to any patriotic playlist.
Now, some party poopers love to point out that "Little Pink Houses" isn't really a celebration of America. (They do this with "Born in the U.S.A." too.) Even Mellencamp himself.
“This one has been misconstrued over the years because of the chorus — it sounds very rah-rah. But it’s really an anti-American song."
Tell you what, Mr. Mellencamp: We'll be the judge of that. And as soon as we hear that opening riff, our hearts swell with patriotic pride.
It's not that we haven't heard the lyrics. It's that we don't feel sorry for the everyday Americans they describe — as we're apparently supposed to.
Take the black guy in the first verse, with the interstate running through the front yard of his little pink house.
That guy inspired the song. He's based on a real person Mellencamp saw in Indianapolis, sitting in a cheap lawn chair with a cat and watching the endless traffic go past his front yard.
The most striking thing to Mellencamp was how content the guy seemed. But instead of contemplating this mysterious serenity, he dismisses it as delusional.
"You know he thinks he got it so good."
Who are we to say he doesn't? Have you ever seen a better distillation of patronizing, paternal liberalism?
From that simple image, by the way, the up-and-coming singer-songwriter built a top-10 hit and classic rock staple beloved by millions for more than four decades. How's that for the American dream? The dream "Little Pink Houses" is supposed to "critique."
Or consider the young man with the greasy hair and greasy smile "listening to the rock and roll station."
When we hear that verse, we get an intense nostalgic feeling of doing nothing on a lazy summer afternoon before smartphones were invented.
Paradise. He's young and it's morning in America. And we're supposed to think he's sad that he's not going to be president?
Forget the self-defeating, sad-sack interpretations. "Little Pink Houses" is about the kind of determined optimism only Americans understand. "There's winners, and there's losers," the song notes. Can you think of a better place to be either?
It's the pedantic killjoys who miss the point. Yes, we're taking a tale of ordinary hardship and cheerfully focusing on the good parts until the hardship itself almost seems fun. It's the American way.
From the moment "Little Pink Houses" hit the airwaves in October 1983, all the Debbie Downers and Gloomy Guses trying to bum us out didn't stand a chance.
Or as one scold puts it, "Most people simply heard 'America,' tuned out the sarcasm, and unfurled the flag."
Exactly. Sounds like the perfect Fourth of July to us.
—Matt Himes, managing editor, Align
2. We love pulling off the impossible
In "Democracy in America," Alexis de Tocqueville said, “Democracy is slow and sluggish and inefficient, but once the will of the people is set in motion, nothing can stop it.”
At least, that’s what I remember him saying, but my computer says no. Maybe he said it to me in confidence and I thought I read it in a book.
At any rate, it’s true. Americans are capable of letting the pendulum swing very far into chaos (not as far as South Africa, but almost) before correcting. Chicago went from the frying pan of Lori Lightfoot into the fire of Brandon Johnson. New York City has been choosing progressively worse progressives since Giuliani and currently has its sites set on a spoiled rich kid who thinks he hates money and loves Palestine.
However, after Biden, we got Trump. After letting in more immigrants in four years than Ellis Island did from 1892 to 1954, we got deportations. After praising Antifa and BLM for burning our country to the ground and then condemning innocent J6ers to decades in prison, we we got pardons for the innocent and punishment for the pyromaniacs.
It might feel sometimes that we are losing our country and the pendulum is locked into “slow and sluggish” mode, but Trump should give us hope. If the presidency can be saved, so can the whole country.
Andrew Breitbart always said, “Politics is downstream from culture,” but MAGA is both. Last week a replica of the "Dukes of Hazzard" car was jumped over the downtown fountain in Somerset, Kentucky, as 35,000 people screamed their heads off. It wasn’t just a random stunt. It was a sign. America is becoming great again. We just have to stay the course and have faith.
—Gavin McInnes, host of "Get Off My Lawn"
3. You can't shut us up
Once upon a time Hollywood loved free speech, the all-American value we need now more than ever.
The 1995 political romance "The American President" ended with a stem-winder by President Shepherd, played by Michael Douglas.
America isn’t easy. America is advanced citizenship. You’ve gotta want it bad, ’cause it’s gonna put up a fight. It’s gonna say, “You want free speech? Let’s see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who’s standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours.
That was then. Hollywood wouldn't allow that opinion in a feature film today. The industry recoils over "hate speech," refuses to defend conservatives banned from social media, and twiddles its thumbs while "sensitivity readers" swarm the publishing ranks.
Oh, and the best and brightest cheered when social media platforms booted President Donald Trump off of their digital turf.
I want that 1995-era Hollywood back. And if today's version can't rise to the occasion, a new Hollywood will emerge. It won't be based in California, mind you, but as technology gives artists the tools to tell their stories their way, new tales will be told across the fruited plain.
Why? Because that's how America works. Still.
—Christian Toto, film critic
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4. We have the need for speed
America, to me, is the land of boundless opportunity, where hard work, creativity, and ingenuity drive progress, from the open road to the factory floor.
Our nation is built on the freedom to chase dreams, like restoring classic cars; driving the type of vehicle you want, where you want and when you want; or pioneering new technologies, all while honoring the values that keep us strong.
For our family, our life is all about cars, auto racing, and restoration. One American who has especially inspired us is the famous car racer, designer, and marketer Carroll Shelby.
In the early 1960s, GT automobile racing was dominated by European brands like Jaguar, Ferrari, and Aston Martin. Shelby, a young Texan who had won Le Mans in an Aston Martin, thought he could make something faster. And he did — putting a Ford V8 engine in a sleek, lightweight body.
For us, Shelby represents American ingenuity, hard work, and never-say-die spirit. He reminds us of the simple, uniquely American freedom of getting behind the wheel of your own car and hitting the open road.
It's impossible to drive or ride in a Shelby Mustang or Cobra without a big smile on your face; it's one of those special experiences you don't forget. We certainly won't — we named our daughter Shelby.
—Lauren Fix, Align Cars
5. We love a long shot
Scott Adams was working at Pacific Bell and wanted a career change. So he woke up early every day before work to figure out his next step.
Even though he had little artistic experience and no special talent, the career that stuck was newspaper cartoonist. "Dilbert" was born. After almost a decade of grinding it out, he made it the most successful comic strip in the country.
With his MBA and corporate resume, Adams had no business trying to break in to the hyper-competitive world of syndicated newspaper strips. It shouldn't have worked — but it did. As he writes in his book "Reframe Your Brain,"
Once you realize you're terrible at estimating the odds of your own success, you're free to try things you might otherwise not consider. You are allowed to expand beyond your comfort zone without pressure because the only way to know what will work is to test it yourself.
In 2015, Adams noticed another corporate guy attempting an improbable career change. He was the first to predict that Donald Trump would win the presidency. People laughed, but of course Adams was right.
Since then, Adams has gone on to launch a beloved YouTube show, publish a few books, and build a reputation as one of the wisest political commentators and dispensers of career and life advice around.
When Adams announced that he had terminal prostate cancer in May, the outpouring of tributes on X and elsewhere was a powerful indication of how many lives he changed.
Since then, he's continued to show up for the community he's built, while acknowledging that he's on borrowed time. His fans plan on sticking with him to the end.
In the words of Adams' frequent collaborator, ghostwriter, editor, and publisher Joshua Lisec:
Scott is the original internet dad. It's obvious to all that basically everyone under 45 or so has the father wound — either from overbearing dads who weren't helpful in giving quality life advice or dads who were totally checked out while a second-wave feminist mom ran the show. So what's it like to have a father who wants the absolute best for you and provides you firm yet kind counsel in every area of your life, from career, health, and relationships to how to think productively about politics, religion, and happiness? That's Scott Adams.
—Matt Himes
6. We're different but the same
Order a "hot dog" in New York City and you'll get an all-beef frankfurter in a natural casing with mustard and maybe some sauerkraut and onions. In Chicago they'll load you up with everything: yellow mustard, dark green relish, chopped raw onion, peppers, pickles, and tomato — crammed into a poppy-seed bun with celery salt on top.
In D.C. the style is half beef, half pork with chili and onions. In Philadelphia they'll make it surf and turf by adding a fish cake.
In Cleveland they have the Polish Boy, which is a kielbasa with french fries, slaw, and barbecue sauce. Go to a Colorado Rockies game and you'll get a foot-long with grilled peppers. Up in Maine they like their dogs bright red.
At Fenway Park they boil and grill them and offer to put baked beans on top. Cincinnati is known for chili and cheese. And in the Southwest, they'll add salsa, bacon, and pinto beans.
Come to think of it, this is a great metaphor for the big immigration brouhaha these days. Opening the borders to millions of foreigners who have no interest in America except as a nice place to set up their own ethnic enclaves and send money home is like replacing all the hot-dog stands in Albany with samosa carts or kebab trucks.
You want both. And when it comes to hot dogs, you want something recognizably American (a hot dog) but with its own regional spin. Making it their own while still respecting the core elements (frankfurter, bun, toppings) that make it work. That's the kind of "diversity" this country is built on.
—Matt Himes
7. Show us a frontier and we'll build on it
Just returned from weekend at Wagon Box. It was great.
Beautiful, intellectual, long conversations, incredible local beef, flow of locals and weirdos interfacing with Substack religo-dorks and scenester art women. A little janky, not everything works right, everything a bit slanted, erratic, and natural. Some things you pay for, some you don't.
Nobody quite knows the rules. An overtly hostile shouting bartender whom everyone learns to love. Two types of delicious local ale and only three items on the lunch menu. Zero gloss of private equity. A positive and non-hateful crossroads of genuinely strange IRL human connection, contemplation, and discussion.
And most importantly, no policing of thought or language.
When Paul McNiel bought it a few years ago, it was a former biker bar in the woods where hardcore one-percenters would stop on their way around upper Wyoming and Montana. They used to sit on that porch and howl and make trouble all night long, until cultural feminization quelled their activity to a trickle.
And now instead of bikers, it's a bunch of thinkers and talkers who sit on that porch thinking and talking late into the night, with a lot less meth and a lot less fighting and a lot more plotting and planning to benefit the globe and humankind. It's a free zone one way or another.
—Isaac Simpson, founder and director, WILL
8. We elected Donald Trump. Twice.
No modern American president has ever been this fully president before. He is pulling every lever and pressing every button, even ones that haven't been pressed in decades, if ever. He is dusting off the forgotten control panels and firing up the long-abandoned machines.
It may not be exactly to your liking, but this is the best we are ever going to get in our lifetimes, so enjoy it while it lasts.
—Peachy Keenan, author of "Domestic Extremist"
9. Because it's worth fighting for
It's wild that simply loving America has become a revolutionary act. But since it's the closest I'll get to the founding fathers, I'll take it.
—Lou Perez, writer and comedian
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It is worth noting when significant portions of one party reject being proud to be American in the span of one decade, while another remains completely unaffected by the shift in sentiment.
www.theblaze.com