The Smithsonian’s director defended the institution’s standards at recent congressional hearings, but a resurfaced campus talk shows a different tone, with the director describing “history as a practice … is for me a prime tool of social justice.” This article looks at that apparent contradiction, the museum’s new collecting and language efforts, and how the director framed the institution’s mission in a way that has stirred debate about objectivity and public history.
At the hearings the director stressed an institutional commitment to impartial scholarship, stating plainly, “Our work is governed by the Smithsonian standards of scholarship, accuracy, independence and nonpartisanship.” That promise sounds like a straightforward pledge to guard against political bias at a national museum tasked with preserving the past for everyone.
Yet in a university presentation months earlier the director described the museum’s approach in very different terms, saying the institution is taking “an equity-based, justice forward, community driven and necessarily humble approach to public history and to service.” That language signals a shift from neutral preservation toward an explicitly activist framing of museum work.
She went further, arguing that the nation’s violent racial history is still present in our public life and that redress and reparation involve more than acknowledgment. Her remarks included, “redress in the form of reparation, of course, goes beyond acknowledgement of wrongdoing; it should leverage responsibility, it should think about the act of correction, as we pursue restorative justice and, for us [on the call], restorative justice through history.” Those are programmatic ideas, not mere interpretive notes.
The presentation opened with a land acknowledgement and images from recent protests, including a photo of an American flag altered to read what appeared to be “Defund the Police.” A later slide showed a sign declaring, “America loving you is complicated.” These selections underline an intent to document contemporary political movements, but they also raise questions about curation choices at a national institution.
She described the museum’s founding during the Cold War as part of a drive to showcase technological and national achievement, and then contrasted that origin with what she called a “bold new vision” for the museum. That vision aims to make the museum “the most accessible, inclusive, relevant, and sustainable public history institution in the country,” and to reflect a broader set of demographics in its audience and collections.
As part of that shift, the museum joined a collecting effort focused on Black Lives Matter to document the movement’s history beginning in 2012, and the director praised those materials as “phenomenal, ephemeral statements, signs … expressing that kind of very heartfelt and incredibly poignant [message].” Collecting grassroots protest artifacts is defensible as preservation, but framing such collection as central to the institution’s identity invites debate about balance and perspective.
She also highlighted partnerships beyond mainstream movements, praising an anti-ICE group called Tsuru for Solidarity as a “truly remarkable group” and describing its work in civic advocacy. The organization’s own description states it is a “nonviolent, direct action project of Japanese American social justice advocates and allies working to end detention sites and support directly impacted immigrant and refugee communities that are being targeted by racist, inhumane immigration policies.” It adds, “We stand on the moral authority of Japanese Americans who suffered the atrocities and legacy of U.S. concentration camps during WWII and we say, ‘Stop Repeating History!’”
The director pushed a multilingual approach as well, describing a “proactive multilingual strategy to support language justice” and explaining that everyone should be able to engage in the language that makes them most comfortable. She said that since fall 2019, exhibitions, signage and digital programs would be bilingual in English and Spanish at minimum, with additional languages added based on community ties.
Despite those programmatic details, she insisted in testimony that the museum does not take sides in political debates and that it preserves evidence so the public can form conclusions: “the museum does not take sides in America’s political debates,” and “We preserve and document the evidence of American life in all of its breadth, so that the public can encounter the past and draw their own conclusions.” That claim sits uneasily beside the activist language used in her campus remarks.
Her closing lines at the campus talk were heartfelt, urging students to “raise your voices and speak them together,” and insisting, “We’re under attack for speaking complicated truths.” She also reflected on the larger purpose of historical work: “We are tellers of stories and seekers of truths, hopefully embracers of nuance, ambassadors of empathy and defenders of inalienable rights.” Those are stirring words, but they also spotlight the tension between advocacy and the expectation of impartial stewardship at a national museum.
Darnell Thompkins is a conservative opinion writer from Atlanta, GA, known for his insightful commentary on politics, culture, and community issues. With a passion for championing traditional values and personal responsibility, Darnell brings a thoughtful Southern perspective to the national conversation. His writing aims to inspire meaningful dialogue and advocate for policies that strengthen families and empower individuals.