In an afternoon’s walk through ground zero of Americana — the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History — objects around every corner invite one question: What could possibly be more American than this?
There’s the enormous Star-Spangled Banner in all its timeworn glory, Dorothy’s ruby slippers from “The Wizard of Oz” and totems of achievement throughout.
There are also testaments to pain and cruelty. What could be more American than a reckoning with the nation’s sins, as illustrated by shackles representing slavery and photos of Japanese Americans confined to detention camps in World War II?
In myriad ways, the museum explores “the complexity of our past,” in accord with its mission statement. President Donald Trump wants a simpler tale told. He wants this and the other Smithsonian museums to mirror American pride, power and accomplishment without all the darkness, and he threatens to hold back money if they don’t get with that program.
American genius and ugliness are on display
On social media, Trump complained that at the Smithsonian museums, which are free to visit and get most of their money from the government, “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.”
In fact, the history museum reflects bountiful successes, whether on the battlefield, from the kitchens and factories of food pioneers, on the musical stage, in the movies or on other fronts of creativity and industriousness. The American Enterprise exhibit, for one, has a wall filled with the stories of successful Americans.
On this wandering tour you can see navigational implements used by Blackbeard, the terrifying pirate, from his early 1700s raids on the Atlantic coast. You see the hat Abraham Lincoln wore to Ford’s Theatre the night of his assassination, George Washington’s ceremonial uniform, Warren Harding’s fine red silk pajamas from the early 1900s, the first car to travel across the country, and a $100,000 bill.
You can see the original light bulbs of the American genius, Thomas Edison. A much earlier genius, the founding father Benjamin Franklin, is presented both as a gifted inventor and a slave owner who publicly came to denounce slavery yet never freed his own.
Those nuances and ambiguities may not be long for this world. Still on display at the history museum are artifacts and documents of American ingenuity, subjugation, generosity, racism, grit, dishonor, verve, playfulness, corruption, heroism, and cultural appropriation.
Like most museums, the focus is not on the future.
There are many provocations
Even so, there is plenty to provoke the Republican president.
In the “Great Debate” of an American democracy exhibition, a wall is emblazoned with large words such as “Privilege” and “Slavery.” The museum presents fulsome tributes to the contributions of immigrants and narratives about the racist landscape that many encountered.
Exhibits address “food justice,” the exploitation of Filipinos after the United States annexed their land and the network of oppressive Native American boarding schools from which Jim Thorpe emerged and became one of the greatest athletes of all time.
Hawaii’s last sovereign before its annexation by the U..S. in the 1890s, Queen Lili‘uokalani, is quoted on a banner as asking: “Is the AMERICAN REPUBLIC of STATES to DEGENERATE and become a COLONIZER?”
A ukulele on display was made around 1890 by a sugar laborer who worked on the kingdom’s American plantations before a U.S.-backed coup overthrew the monarchy. Museum visitors are told the new instrument was held up by the monarchs as a symbol of anti-colonial independence.
“Ukuleles are both a product of U.S. imperialism and a potent symbol of Native Hawaiian resistance,” says the accompanying text.
At the Greek-godlike statue of George Washington, the text hints at his complexities and stops short of the total reverence that totalitarian leaders get.
Noting that “modern scholarship focuses on the fallible man rather than the marble hero,” the text says Washington’s image “is still used for inspiration, patriotism and commercial gain” and that “he continues to hold a place for many as a symbolic ‘father’ of the country.”
The American spirit is celebrated, too
On this visit, conservators behind a big window are seen sweeping tiny brushes on ancient wooden pieces. Their patriotic work proceeds at a snail’s pace.
The team is restoring the gunboat Philadelphia, part of a small fleet that engaged the British navy at the Battle of Valcour Island in Lake Champlain in 1776, delaying Britain’s effort to cut off the New England colonies and buying time for the Continental Army to prepare for its decisive victory at Saratoga.
The commander of the gunboats in the Valcour battle later became America’s greatest traitor, Benedict Arnold. The British damaged the Philadelphia so badly it sank an hour after the battle, then lay underwater for 160 years. It’s being restored for next year’s celebrations of America’s 250th year.
“The Philadelphia is a symbol of how citizens of a newly formed nation came together, despite overwhelming odds against their success,” said Jennifer Jones, the project’s director. “This boat’s fragile condition is symbolic of our democracy; it requires the nation’s attention and vigilance to preserve it for future generations.”
It’s not telling you what to think, but what to think about
Democracy’s fragility is considered in a section of the museum about the limits of presidential power. That’s where references to Trump’s two impeachments were removed in July for updating, and were restored this month.
“On December 18, 2019, the House impeached Donald Trump for abuse of power and obstruction of Congress,” one label now states. “On January 13, 2021, Donald Trump became the first president to be impeached twice,” says another. “The charge was incitement of insurrection based on his challenge of the 2020 election results and on his speech on January 6.” His Senate acquittals are duly noted.
It’s a just-the-facts take on a matter that has driven the country so deeply apart. The history museum doesn’t offer answers for that predicament. Instead, it asks questions throughout its halls on the fundamentals of Americanism.
“How should Americans remember their Revolution and the founding of the nation?”
“What does patriotism look like?”
“How diverse should the citizenry be?”
“Do we need to share a common national story?”
