While most of the Pitt student body was packed between barricades waiting for DJ Diesel to take the stage at Bigelow Bash, I was somewhere very different — Monticello, Virginia. I was there with the history department to see the plantation home of Thomas Jefferson, the author of the document that marked the birth of America and will celebrate 250 years this summer.
While visiting the site, I couldn’t help but notice a sharp divide in how the different sections of the site were presented. While touring the palatial home, significant attention was given to Jefferson’s ideas and intellect. Bright red “Celebrate America’s 250th” banners adorned the walkways along the east and west wings, where visitors could look down upon the University of Virginia — touted by tour guides as one of the most important parts of Jefferson’s legacy — from the beautiful mountaintop vantage point. After the guided tour, visitors partook in a “meet Thomas Jefferson” activity, where an actor dressed as Jefferson answered questions. You could also get your picture taken with him.
Separated from the main house, however, there is another half of the historic site. Nestled in the bowels of Monticello’s basements and along the trails surrounding the home, there are exhibits dedicated to the barbaric history of slavery that existed on the plantation. The number of enslaved people that Jefferson owned — 607 — is repeated many times, as well as analysis of his relationship with Sally Hemings — the enslaved teenage girl who Jefferson repeatedly raped and had several children with.
This contradiction is at the heart of most modern depictions of the founders — simultaneously venerating the ideals of the revolution, grappling with the horror of slavery and reducing these figures to Disneyland-esque mascots that you can take a picture with and purchase plushies of in the gift shop.
There is a moral imperative to reckon with the legacy of slavery, especially when it comes to the founding fathers. Jefferson’s celebrated ideals — freedom of religion, freedom of speech, all men being created equal — all ring somewhat hollow when contextualized within the horrors of the slave trade. But there is also an imperative to educate ourselves as Americans on what has made those ideals stick beyond their hypocritical origins. Despite the hypocrisy of their author, these ideals have been seized upon by subsequent generations and pursued toward their actual fulfillment. From the “Declaration of the Rights of Man” to the feminist movement, the ideological framework of the founders has been adapted and developed to liberate millions of people, many of whom Thomas Jefferson would have never given the time of day.
As we approach America’s semiquincentennial, we would do well to think less about the founding fathers. They were important, yes, but focusing too much on the character of individual men risks turning history into an easily consumable Disneyland, where we pose for pictures with our favorite mascot and then buy a bottle of Thomas Jefferson-branded root beer on the way out.
Instead of focusing specifically on the character and deeds of individual men, the celebration of America’s 250th anniversary should be a reflection on all Americans and what the ideas of the founders have meant to all Americans.
Brady Dugan is a history major and staff writer trying his hardest to survive finals. He can be reached at [email protected].
