In recent years, the growing trend of "sanitizing" historical exhibits, especially in prestigious institutions like the Smithsonian, has sparked fierce debate. At its core, this practice involves altering, omitting, or reframing historical content to make it more palatable, less controversial, or aligned with populist ideological trends. It is not well-intentioned, though we are often told it is. Sanitizing history is a perilous path that risks undermining the very purpose of historical education. To whitewash the past is to strip it of its power to teach, warn, and enlighten. In essence, sanitizing history is akin to burning books, a form of intellectual suppression that those who understand the value of truth must stand firmly against.
Book burning has long been a symbol of tyranny and censorship. From the bonfires of the Spanish Inquisition to the Nazi destruction of dissenting literature, history teaches us that when information is controlled, so too are people. Sanitizing historical exhibits is no less dangerous. It is simply a more insidious, modern version of the same impulse. When institutions like the Smithsonian are forced to alter or omit uncomfortable facts to avoid controversy, they are being forced to engage in a form of ideological control. “Someone” decides, without public debate, which truths are worth telling.
This is a betrayal of the mission entrusted to museums and cultural institutions. The Smithsonian, often called the “nation’s attic,” holds a unique responsibility to present an unvarnished view of history. It is not supposed to serve as a comfort zone for the visitor, but as a gateway to learning. A museum should challenge, provoke thought, and confront difficult realities, not serve as a carefully curated echo chamber.
We must remember: history is not supposed to make us feel good. It exists not to validate our present identities or reinforce our current ideologies, but to teach us about the vast and complicated experiences of the past. History should educate, inspire, and illuminate the world. And often, it does so through stories of suffering, conflict, and injustice.
For instance, exhibitions about slavery, Indigenous genocide, Japanese internment, or the AIDS crisis are not pleasant. They are not supposed to be. Their purpose is to ensure that we remember, reflect, and grow. Sanitizing these narratives to avoid discomfort robs them of their power and significance. It diminishes the pain endured by the people who lived through these times and dishonors their legacy.
The idea that history should be painless is rooted in privilege. For many, the historical record is a catalogue of systemic harm, oppression, and exclusion. To erase those elements in the name of "objectivity" or "neutrality" is to perpetuate the very inequalities history can help us understand and correct.
At the heart of the sanitization issue lies a simple truth: facts are not subject to belief. They do not require consensus to be valid. A fact remains true whether we find it convenient, whether it offends us, or whether we choose to ignore it. To deny facts for the sake of emotional comfort is to undermine the foundation of knowledge itself.
Consider the factual history of Jim Crow laws, the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II, or the systemic disenfranchisement of Black voters. These are well-documented, rigorously studied, and supported by mountains of evidence. Yet some would prefer they be softened or reframed to avoid offending modern sensibilities. This is not education; it is indoctrination through omission.
The role of a museum is not to tell us what to think, but to present the evidence and encourage us to think for ourselves. When facts are manipulated or hidden, the audience is no longer being educated, they are being deceived. And deception has no place in a democratic society that values informed citizenship.
The root of the problem may lie deeper still, in the erosion of critical thinking skills in our educational system. If people were better trained to evaluate evidence, assess credibility, and recognize bias, they would be less likely to demand sanitized versions of history. They would understand that exposure to uncomfortable truths is not a threat, but a necessary component of intellectual growth.
In many schools today, students are not taught how to sift through information or engage in nuanced analysis. Instead, they are often encouraged to seek emotional validation over factual understanding. This trend fosters a culture in which discomfort is equated with danger, and disagreement with harm. As a result, many demand trigger warnings, safe spaces, and content warnings in places where difficult conversations are most essential: classrooms, museums, and public forums.
If our society is to thrive, we must reclaim the value of critical thinking. We must empower individuals to navigate the complexity of history without fear or fragility. Education should not be about creating ideologically insulated citizens, but about cultivating resilience, empathy, and intellectual honesty.
As a national institution, the Smithsonian must resist the pressure to sanitize its exhibits. It must remain a bastion of factual integrity, a place where history is presented in its full, unvarnished complexity. This means including stories that are painful, perspectives that are challenging, and narratives that disrupt the status quo.
The Smithsonian's integrity depends on its willingness to honor truth above all else. This includes maintaining scholarly rigor in curating exhibits, embracing diverse voices without succumbing to ideological partisanship, and defending the right of visitors to encounter history as it actually happened, not as someone wishes it had happened.
Moreover, the Smithsonian should serve as a model for how institutions can confront the past without erasing it. Instead of sanitizing history, curators can provide context. They can guide viewers through difficult material with care and insight, helping them understand why certain events occurred and what we can learn from them. This is the true purpose of historical education: not to shield us from the past, but to help us make sense of it.
Those who seek to sanitize history, whether through omission, distortion, or oversimplification, are not protecting society. They are weakening it. They are choosing comfort over courage, control over curiosity. And in doing so, they place themselves on the wrong side of history.
History is not a weapon to be wielded, nor a balm to soothe our egos. It is a mirror, sometimes harsh, but always revealing. If we want to build a better future, we must first be willing to look honestly at our past. That requires bravery, humility, and a commitment to truth.
The Smithsonian Institution has been a leader in this effort. It must continue to uphold its mission to "increase and diffuse knowledge" by preserving historical integrity, even when doing so is unpopular or controversial. Sanitizing history is not a form of progress; it is an act of regression.
And we, as a society, cannot afford to regress.