In 1933, Dr. Carter G. Woodson—the founder of Black History Month—published The Mis-Education of the Negro. Although his critique focused on the schooling of Black Americans, his central warning now applies to the nation as a whole. Woodson argued that education could be used not to liberate minds but to control them; that distorted or incomplete history produces dependency rather than independence; and that true education must cultivate critical thinking and self-actualization. The ultimate goal, he wrote, was to teach people to think for themselves.
Nearly a century later, Woodson’s insight speaks to a broader crisis: the mis-education of America.
Across the country, the teaching of history has become a political battleground. In states such as Florida, the Stop WOKE Act restricts how race and inequality may be discussed in classrooms, and similar measures have appeared elsewhere. At the same time, public institutions face pressure to soften or remove uncomfortable historical realities—such as the fact that George Washington enslaved human beings—while other decisions, including renewed honors for Confederate figures, reflect a willingness to reinterpret the past through a selective lens. Book bans instituted by conservative critics attempt to hide uncomfortable topics or unfavored history.
These conflicts are not simply about curriculum. They represent a struggle over historical truth itself.
At the center of this struggle is a broader effort to reshape education around a narrow interpretation of Western civilization. A key driver of this movement is Hillsdale College, which promotes what it calls the “spiritual and intellectual inheritance of the West.” Through its K–12 initiative, the college provides free curriculum materials, lesson plans, and teacher training to charter schools and districts nationwide. Its growing network of “classical” charter schools embeds a Great Books–centered approach in public education. However, these accounts ignore or minimize the history of plunder, exploitation and colonial rule that accompanied European expansion.
This effort extends beyond the classroom. During the first administration of Donald Trump, Hillsdale leaders helped shape the 1776 Commission, which called for a patriotic curriculum grounded in Western heritage and American exceptionalism. Although the commission was short-lived, its framework has been adopted across the conservative movement and reflected in state education policies that emphasize national pride while restricting discussions of systemic racism and inequality.
The narrowing of civilization to a single Western lineage now carries geopolitical implications as well. In a recent address at the Munich Security Conference, Marco Rubio declared, “We are part of one civilization—Western civilization,” framing the United States and Europe as heirs to a common tradition typically rooted in ancient Greece. This narrative echoes the same intellectual framework promoted domestically: a civilizational identity defined primarily by Western origins. Increasingly, this idea is being advanced not only in schools and policy debates, but also as a guiding principle of American political messaging on the world stage.
Yet this worldview overlooks a central fact of history: civilizations have never been isolated or pure. They have grown through contact, exchange, and migration. Ironically, the same global migration patterns that the Trump administration now warn will produce “civilizational erasure” have, throughout human history, been engines of development and progress. The spread of agriculture, the transmission of mathematics and science across Africa, the Middle East, and Europe, the Silk Road exchanges between Asia and the West, and the cultural and technological dynamism of immigrant societies like the United States all testify to a simple truth: civilizations advance through interaction, not isolation.
The concern is not the study of Western thought itself, which remains essential. The problem is the narrowing of the story. Hillsdale’s materials and related curricula emphasize Western civilization as the primary engine of human progress while giving limited attention to Africa, Asia, Indigenous societies, and the global foundations of civilization. The result is a narrative of Western exceptionalism rather than shared human development.
Modern scholarship tells a different story. Archaeology, genetics, and world history confirm that humanity originated in Africa and that complex societies arose independently in the Nile Valley, Mesopotamia, the Indus Valley, China, and the Americas. The idea that civilization began uniquely in Europe is not historical fact; it is an outdated cultural myth and intellectual dishonesty.
When education ignores these global origins, omission becomes ideology. Teaching civilization as primarily Western is not neutral—it withholds evidence and reinforces an implicit hierarchy of cultures.
Woodson’s warning remains urgent. Education that narrows perspective produces intellectual dependence. Education grounded in evidence cultivates independent thought.
The stakes reach beyond schools. A democracy depends on citizens able to confront complexity rather than retreat into comforting narratives. When classrooms substitute mythology for history, they do not strengthen national identity—they weaken intellectual honesty.
The integrity of American democracy depends on the integrity of its classrooms. Real education does not shield students from difficult truths. It prepares them to think for themselves.
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