It’s hard not to think about this question under a second Trump administration when so many actions are being taken to change the way history is taught in our schools. Governmental agencies have been told to remove plaques and stories honoring the contributions of women and people of color. Citizens have also been encouraged to inform on National Parks and Landmarks if the content displayed is deemed “woke” or insufficiently patriotic. Given how LDS history is usually taught, this should feel pretty familiar to everyone. But the solution is not an easy one, and history is complex. As L.P. Hartley famously said, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.” Historical eras have different social norms, beliefs, and values, meaning we can never fully understand them without adapting to their distinct cultural rules.

Additionally, the way nations, religions, and even families tell their history is always partly motivated by a desire to encourage loyalty toward the group, not simply to tell the truth. If facts are like mosaic tiles, the narratives are what connect those tiles into a larger image that explains the past–but the image can differ greatly depending on which tiles are included, how they are connected, and what materials are used to connect them.

  • What lesson do children learn from the (false) story of George Washington admitting he chopped down the cherry tree?
  • What lesson would children learn if they heard that George Washington’s dentures included teeth from enslaved people, and that this was a common practice at the time for those who could afford it?
  • What would students learn if they were told that Washington deliberately rotated his enslaved staff when they served him in Philadelphia because at six months of residency in Pennsylvania, they were eligible to sue for their freedom?

Another consideration is that some facts may not be appropriate for all ages. This is a very modern perspective as children a hundred years ago (or less) were dressed up and brought to see lynchings and public executions, and many of them were raised in single rooms in which adults had sex in the same room and just told them to go back to sleep. But we see certain topics as too difficult for children now, and history is full of these topics. How do you teach about polygamy without having to explain sex and that women did not have the same agency as men? How do you teach about genocide, infanticide, torture, cannibalism, slavery, etc. without giving children nightmares? And what about unsavory facts about colonization, medical history, and so forth? Some facts are salacious, and while true, they also can be a distraction from the whole picture. Elementary school age kids often lack the maturity to deal with a fart in class, let alone the troubling facts of the recent past.

I was listening to an interview with someone who had written a new series of textbooks, and while I felt that many of the author’s points were valid, that you can’t include everything, and that you have to be age appropriate in what you cover, the interviewer pointed out that the author’s textbooks barely mentioned any women or people of color, let alone telling their stories. The author defended these omissions on the grounds that he wasn’t going to include them “just to include them,” but the reality is that women and people of color existed in the time period he wrote about, and they also were a part of the story, just not a part that was being told. He had completely omitted the women’s suffrage movement, for example. His approach is sometimes called the “great men” style of writing history–focusing only on individuals of social prominence under whatever regime is in political control–while ignoring the stories of less powerful people in the same culture–many of whom made substantial contributions to society in terms of inventions, literature, theory, philosophy and other spheres of influence. For instance, several Native American leaders contributed to our modern method of government, and their ideas are very familiar to us today. I don’t know about you, but that’s not stuff I learned in history class.

From Trevor Moore’s comedy routine
[Verse 1]
Benjamin Franklin went out into the storm and bravely let his kite go up in the air
He risked his life on an idea that night and thanks to him we now have light everywhere
Louis Pasteur never gave up on his cures, and thanks to him now we all have a vaccine
And Orville and Wilbur toured until they delivered what until then had just been in a dream

[Chorus]
G**damn, white people are geniuses
G**damn, it really blows me away
I know it’s not cool to talk about it, but it’s just something that I’ve got to say
Can you imagine a world where white people just did not exist?
That would be such a terrible thing and someth-

After being called a racist, Trevor explains that he’s writing this song purely based on what was in his history book. He takes the critique and tries again:

[Verse 2]
Lots of other races have geniuses too
Don’t let anybody tell you other
George Washington Carver was a black guy who figured out how to make peanut butter
La da dum da daa be da da da da de da dum doo
Dee dee da da da da da da da le dee ba ba da ba mmm ba da da mmm
La da da da da da da da bu dm ba ma boo bup ba bee

At this point Trevor is asked if he only knows about one black person’s achievement, and he explains that’s all that’s in his history textbook from the 1980s in Virginia. When pressed, he suggests that black people probably also invented rap and basketball.

I’ve previously posted about two important figures from Lancaster county history: James Buchanan who is widely considered the worst president in American history for not avoiding the Civil War (and for his Southern sympathies–plus, he was probably one of our few gay presidents, but we don’t know for sure) and Thaddeus Stevens who wrote the 14th amendment, trusted women to manage his business and household (actually, so did Buchanan for the most part), and participated in the underground railroad. These two men were lawyers and politicians who lived at the same time within 5 miles of each other. Instead of the history I was taught in school (which somehow didn’t really feature either of these two prominent locals since textbooks are usually done for national consumption), I think a much better discussion of the events surrounding the Civil War could have been had, at least by high school age, in considering these two contradictory men and their views on abolition. It would also be much more useful and interesting to hear from women and people of color–after all, who is sitting in the classroom? Not just future white men, but everyone.

Absent these more complex discussions, it’s all too easy for us to imagine that we would have picked the right side in the Civil War, we would have fought the Nazis, we would have given a seat to Rosa Parks (or demanded one), we would have ridden alongside Paul Revere (or Sybil Ludington, the 16 year old who also rode 40 miles that night warning her neighbors, yet was not mentioned in my history class), we would have been outraged at the genocide of Native Americans, we would not have thrown rocks at women who wanted the vote or roughed them up and jailed them. But the reality is that when you are living it, history is full of ambiguity, and it’s a lot harder to know what to do, even if you are able to pick the right side.

And it’s not just about what we would do, but it’s about what our forebears did. How should white Southerners feel about their grandfathers who opposed civil rights or participated in lynchings and slavery, who raped enslaved women and sold their own children as property? How should we feel about our grandfathers whose “god-given” right it was to beat their wives if they didn’t submit? How should Germans feel about their grandparents who supported the Nazi regime? How should I feel about the fact that my Dad benefited from the GI bill when black veterans were denied those promised benefits? How should I feel about my parents avoiding redlined neighborhoods so their property values didn’t suffer?

Within church history, all of these same problems exist. Many (most?) church members have some polygamous ancestors. From what I see, most of them prefer to defend the institution of polygamy rather than criticize it for its exploitation of women, and of course, it was complicated–if not for Joseph Smith whose motives are pretty hard to defend, then for others who participated. Women’s rights weren’t great anywhere at the time, and in some ways Mormons gave women more rights than other groups did. I’ve often said I wouldn’t want to have been born five minutes before I was because we continue to make progress on things like how women are treated in society and the rights of LGBTQ people and minorities–that is until recently I have felt that way (civil rights have been going downhill since 2016 for some reason). We make these same white-washing mistakes in how the church tells its own history under the guise of being faith-promoting, but it creates a fragile faith based on exaggerations and lies. Instead we should be teaching students that human beings are not all or nothing.

Jefferson wrote a great document, was a smart inventor, and was also a terrible slaveholder who impregnated teen Sally Hemmings when he was over twice her age. George Washington was humble enough to refuse to serve beyond a second term, but also mostly was looking out for his interests as a wealthy land-owner who wanted Native Americans gone and opposed the limits on expansion that Britain was imposing on the Colonies. Instead of just sharing these contradictory facts, we can also see the arc of change in the thinking of leaders we study. And we can assign students more difficult tasks like grappling with the mistakes of our elders.

  • What pressures did these people face?
  • What choices were available to them at the time?
  • What did courageous people in their day do?
  • What blind spots did people from that era have?
  • What were the public issues being debated in this time period?
  • Whose stories are we missing in this narrative?

If we apply these types of questions and thinking to textbooks, we can avoid the deceptions and patriotic panegyric approaches that I received in the mid-80s without feeling overwhelmed by the horrific flaws of people in the past. Even if we don’t teach accurate history, it will be discovered by the curious among us.

  • How do you think we should balance history education in our schools?
  • Would you take this same approach in the church or is it more important to hide unsavory facts?
  • Does loyalty depend more on understanding complexity and flaws or on seeing leaders as estimable and worthy of our trust?
  • How do you avoid those learning about unsavory history from feeling superior and removed from the errors of the past?

Discuss.