Presentism: A Shield or a Mirror? Why Academic Historians Need to Stop Hiding Behind It And Public Historians Need to Fight It

The word "presentism" gets thrown around a lot in historical circles, usually as a pejorative term. It's often used to accuse someone of judging the past by today’s standards, as if we’re incapable of understanding historical contexts on their own terms. But here’s the thing: slapping a "presentist" label on critiques of the past often serves as little more than a shield—one that protects not the integrity of history but the comfort zones of those who wield it.

Presentism is often defined as applying contemporary values to historical events, people, or periods. Sure, there’s a valid point there: imposing today’s moral compass on yesterday’s world can lead to oversimplifications and distortions. But when we stop at this surface-level criticism, we miss the broader and far more crucial question: why are we so quick to hide behind this term when the real work of public history is to engage directly, and sometimes uncomfortably, with the past?

Let’s be honest. Accusations of presentism often arise when historians or heritage professionals are confronted with narratives that disrupt the sanitized versions of history many of us grew up with. It’s easier to dismiss critiques as “presentist” than to acknowledge that the past, especially the American past, is rife with injustices that continue to shape our present. Slavery, colonialism, systemic racism—these aren't footnotes; they’re central chapters that have been marginalized or rewritten for the sake of a feel-good narrative about progress and exceptionalism.

When historians dismiss critical reinterpretations as presentism, they’re not defending the sanctity of the past—they’re defending a curated version of it. They’re gatekeeping. They’re avoiding the hard work of accountability, of asking who gets to tell the story, whose voices have been excluded, and who benefits from maintaining the status quo. In doing so, they fail the very public they’re supposed to serve.

Public history isn’t about preserving the comfort of familiar narratives; it’s about breaking them open. It’s about digging into those difficult, messy, often painful parts of our past that make us squirm because that discomfort is where the real work happens. The aim isn’t to judge the past by today’s standards but to understand how those past actions and beliefs continue to reverberate in our present, shaping the world we live in now.

If we’re committed to fidelity and accountability in public history, then we must stop using presentism as an excuse to dodge these tough questions. Instead, we need to lean into the discomfort, to allow our interpretations of history to be mirrors rather than shields. It’s only by holding ourselves and our heritage sites accountable to the highest standards of representation and inclusiveness that we can hope to foster a more honest, more comprehensive, and ultimately more useful understanding of the past.

So the next time someone cries “presentism,” let’s ask ourselves: is it really about protecting historical integrity, or is it about protecting a version of history that keeps us from having to confront the hard truths of our shared past? Because history isn’t a relic to be guarded; it’s a conversation that’s meant to challenge, provoke, and, yes, sometimes even make us uncomfortable. And that’s exactly how it should be.