What are we commemorating when we celebrate the 250th?
Just months before the peak of this anniversary, that question remains very much unsettled. Recent moves from the White House highlight an ongoing tension over which histories this anniversary will acknowledge, how they will be presented, and what kinds of engagement they invite from the public.
Last week, the White House announced that a statue of Caesar Rodney would be installed in Freedom Plaza, along Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC. Rodney, a signer of the Declaration of Independence and a Major General in the Continental Army, was also an enslaver of more than two hundred people. His statue was removed from Wilmington, Delaware, during the racial justice protests of 2020. Now, the administration is giving it a second life as part of its 250th anniversary commemoration.
Earlier this week, the administration erected a statue of Christopher Columbus on White House grounds—a replica of one torn down and thrown into the harbor in Baltimore during those same protests.
These choices raise a central question: what histories should this anniversary commemorate, and how should we tell them?
The White House’s answer is increasingly clear. In this framing, the 250th is primarily about celebration. Much of the administration’s effort—now channeled through “Freedom 250”—leans heavily on spectacle: a UFC fight, an IndyCar race, a monumental arch. Where history does appear, it is presented as a simplified, celebratory narrative of the nation.
Consider the proposed “National Garden of American Heroes,” envisioned as a collection of statues honoring 250 prominent figures from the American past. Its list of potential statues includes not only Rodney and Columbus, but also figures like John Wayne and Kobe Bryant. While these are recognizable names from our past, they’re presented in a decidedly “hall-of-fame” way. Rather than promoting meaningful engagement with history, they would offer only a static, decontextualized acknowledgement.
Other initiatives follow a similar pattern. The “Founders Museum,” both online and traveling via Freedom Truck Mobile Museums, presents founding-era figures in ways that are factually grounded but omit central aspects of their lives, particularly their involvement in slavery. At the same time, the National Park Service’s implementation of the “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History” executive order has led to the removal of exhibits, publications, and signage at sites across the country—material deemed to “disparage” prominent Americans. Although courts intervened to order the return of the slavery exhibit at the President’s House site in Philadelphia, it remains unclear how much of this fuller history will be visible to the public during the anniversary itself.
Taken together, these efforts suggest a very particular view of history: one that treats the past primarily as a source of patriotic inspiration, rather than as a tool to encourage reflection, understanding, or change.
And yet, that is not what most Americans say they want. Research consistently shows that people are eager for history that is honest, complex, and inclusive—history that invites them to grapple with the past rather than simply celebrate it.
Across the country, many organizations are responding to that demand. Through the “By the People” initiative, state and territorial humanities councils are partnering with local communities to host programs and conversations that explore American history in all its richness and contradiction. A new essay series from former National Park Service fellows is using the power of place to expand our understanding of the 250th. Museums, historic sites, and grassroots organizations are developing exhibitions, dialogues, and public programs that reflect both the nation’s achievements and its struggles.
In the end, the 250th belongs to everyone. It won’t be defined by just a single national narrative handed down from Washington. The Semiquincentennial will continue to be a decentralized, participatory moment, one shaped by thousands of communities, institutions, and individuals. The choices being made at the federal level matter, but they do not define the anniversary on their own.
If the 250th becomes a lasting milestone for our field, it will not be because of spectacle or celebration alone. It will be because we used this moment to deepen the public’s understanding of history—and to make the case, clearly and compellingly, for why that understanding matters.
