Trump's Park Celebration Ignores the Climate Crisis Destroying Them

National Park Week 2025 arrived with a flourish of flags and fanfare, heralding the 250th anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord at Minute Man National Historical Park. President Donald Trump’s proclamation painted a vivid picture of patriots standing firm against tyranny, their courage etched into the annals of American greatness. It’s a stirring image, one that resonates with anyone who cherishes the nation’s founding. Yet beneath the rhetoric lies a troubling reality: this vision of our national parks risks sanitizing history, prioritizing a narrow, celebratory narrative over the complex truths that define who we are.

Trump’s proclamation calls for honoring the ‘majestic beauty and rich history’ preserved in our parks, a sentiment few would dispute. National parks, from Yellowstone’s geysers to the Statue of Liberty’s torch, are indeed treasures that draw millions each year. But the administration’s focus on restoring ‘traditional’ names, like Mount McKinley, and erecting monuments such as the National Garden of American Heroes signals a deliberate choice. It elevates a singular story of triumph while sidelining the voices of Indigenous peoples, Black Americans, and others whose histories are inseparable from these lands.

This approach isn’t just selective; it’s exclusionary. By framing parks as symbols of ‘American greatness,’ the proclamation glosses over the painful realities of land dispossession and racial exclusion that shaped their creation. The National Park Service has spent decades working to tell these fuller stories, acknowledging the displacement of Native communities and the segregation that once barred Black visitors. Trump’s directive to emphasize patriotism threatens to undo that progress, casting a shadow over efforts to make parks spaces where all Americans see themselves reflected.

History isn’t a monolith, and national parks shouldn’t be either. The push to teach children to ‘love our country’ through curated tales of heroism ignores the messy truths that make America’s story so compelling. Take Yellowstone, the world’s first national park, established in 1872. Its creation involved the violent removal of Indigenous peoples, a fact long buried under romanticized tales of untouched wilderness. Recent efforts to include these narratives have enriched our understanding, not diminished it. Yet the administration’s focus on unity and pride risks stifling such honesty, leaving visitors with a hollow version of the past.

Advocates for inclusive storytelling argue that acknowledging complexity strengthens national identity, not weakens it. Historians point to sites like Manzanar, where Japanese Americans were interned during World War II, as proof that parks can honor resilience while confronting injustice. These stories don’t disparage America; they reveal its capacity for growth. By contrast, the proclamation’s emphasis on ‘greatness’ feels like a step backward, echoing earlier eras when park narratives erased the contributions of marginalized groups to prop up a myth of unblemished progress.

Opponents of this critique might claim that parks should inspire, not divide. They argue that focusing on patriotism fosters shared values, uniting a fractured nation. But this argument falters when you consider who’s excluded from that unity. A park system that ignores the legacy of slavery, segregation, or Indigenous dispossession isn’t unifying; it’s alienating. It tells millions of Americans their stories don’t matter. True unity comes from embracing the full spectrum of our history, not cherry-picking moments that flatter a single perspective.

While the proclamation waxes poetic about preserving parks for future generations, it sidesteps a glaring threat: climate change. National parks are warming at twice the national rate, with devastating consequences. Glacier Bay’s namesake glaciers are vanishing, Yosemite’s sequoias are succumbing to wildfires, and rising seas threaten cultural sites at the Everglades. In 2022, Yellowstone’s infrastructure crumbled under catastrophic floods, a stark reminder of nature’s new reality. Scientists warn that without aggressive action, many park resources could be lost by century’s end.

The National Park Service has tried to adapt, implementing resilience projects and upgrading infrastructure. But these efforts are hamstrung by a $23 billion maintenance backlog and recent budget cuts that slashed 1,000 jobs and froze hiring. The 2020 Great American Outdoors Act provided a temporary boost, but its funds are dwindling, and the administration’s silence on climate action raises doubts about its commitment. Celebrating parks while ignoring their vulnerability isn’t stewardship; it’s neglect.

Some might argue that economic priorities or energy independence take precedence over environmental concerns. But this false dichotomy ignores the economic and cultural value of parks, which generate billions in tourism revenue and embody our shared heritage. Protecting them demands bold climate policies, from emissions reductions to habitat restoration. Anything less betrays the very future the proclamation claims to cherish.

National parks belong to all Americans, but not all Americans feel welcome. Despite record visitation in 2024, only 23% of park visitors were people of color, a stark contrast to the nation’s 42% minority population. This gap stems from a history of exclusion, from the displacement of Black communities like Seneca Village to create Central Park, to Jim Crow laws that segregated parks well into the 20th century. Structural barriers, like rising entrance fees and a predominantly white workforce, persist today, limiting access for low-income and minority communities.

Efforts to bridge this divide, like targeted outreach and diversity training, have shown promise. The Biden-Harris administration’s 2025 budget proposed $15.1 million to advance racial justice and equity, building on initiatives to make parks more inclusive. But recent staff cuts and a lack of sustained funding threaten these gains. The proclamation’s call to celebrate parks as a ‘national heritage’ rings hollow when so many are effectively locked out.

Defenders of the status quo might argue that parks are open to everyone, and personal responsibility determines who visits. But this ignores systemic realities, from transportation costs to cultural disconnects. Equity isn’t just about access; it’s about belonging. A park system that fails to reflect America’s diversity risks losing relevance, especially as demographic shifts reshape the nation.

National parks are more than scenic vistas or historic battlefields; they’re living testaments to who we are and who we aspire to be. Trump’s vision for National Park Week 2025, with its fervent patriotism and selective history, undermines that promise. It casts parks as monuments to a singular narrative, ignoring the diverse stories that make them vital. It celebrates their beauty while neglecting the climate crisis that threatens their survival. And it calls them a shared heritage while barriers to access persist.

We deserve better. Parks should be spaces where every American sees their history honored, where truth triumphs over myth, and where bold action ensures their preservation. This requires rejecting a sanitized past, embracing inclusive storytelling, and prioritizing climate resilience and equity. Only then can national parks fulfill their role as places of unity, reflection, and hope for generations to come.