On a humid summer day, August 9, 2025, clusters of tourists gathered at the President's House in Philadelphia, pausing before a striking display titled "The Dirty Business of Slavery." The exhibit, with its bold lettering and uncompromising narrative, drew visitors into the complicated history of America’s founding era—one that’s often celebrated and scrutinized in equal measure. This very site, steps away from the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, has become a focal point for the nation’s ongoing conversation about the legacy of slavery and the people who shaped the United States.
But now, the future of some of these exhibits hangs in the balance. According to Getty Images, thirteen separate panels at the President's House site are currently under review by the National Park Service (NPS) for potential removal or editing. As of September 17, 2025, this process has stirred both passionate debate and quiet reflection among historians, activists, and ordinary visitors alike.
The President’s House, restored and opened to the public in recent years, is no ordinary museum stop. It stands on the footprint of the original residence used by Presidents George Washington and John Adams during Philadelphia’s brief tenure as the nation’s capital. But more than a monument to presidential grandeur, the site is a reminder of the enslaved men and women who lived and labored there—often in the shadows of the country’s most celebrated leaders.
Among the exhibits, those discussing slavery and George Washington’s treatment of enslaved people have drawn particular attention. The panels do not shy away from difficult truths. They recount the stories of individuals such as Oney Judge and Hercules, who were enslaved by Washington and famously resisted his attempts to keep them in bondage. The text on these displays is blunt, challenging visitors to reckon with the contradiction between the ideals of liberty enshrined in the nation’s founding and the realities of human bondage that persisted at its heart.
For many, the President’s House is a place of education and reckoning. The display titled "The Dirty Business of Slavery" is especially arresting, offering a candid account of the economic and social forces that sustained slavery in early America. It’s not just a history lesson—it’s a call to remember the lives and struggles of those whose stories were long neglected in the nation’s official narrative.
But the current review by the National Park Service has triggered a wave of concern. Why, some wonder, are these panels being reconsidered now? The NPS has not released a detailed public explanation, but the review comes amid a broader national debate about how the country’s history should be presented in public spaces. Some argue that the exhibits are too confrontational, or that they overshadow the achievements of Washington and other founding figures. Others insist that removing or sanitizing these displays would be a step backward—an erasure of hard-won truths that have only recently come to light.
In the words of one visitor, as reported by Getty Images, "It’s uncomfortable, but it’s necessary. You can’t understand what this country is without knowing all of it—the good and the bad." That sentiment is echoed by many historians, who caution against efforts to soften or obscure the realities of slavery at sites like the President’s House. They point to the importance of telling a full, honest story, even when it challenges cherished myths.
The thirteen panels under review cover a wide range of topics, from the daily lives of the enslaved people at the President’s House to the legal and political context that allowed slavery to endure in the nation’s early years. Some panels focus directly on George Washington’s actions—his decision to rotate enslaved workers in and out of Pennsylvania to evade the state’s gradual abolition law, for instance, or his pursuit of Oney Judge after her escape to freedom. These details, meticulously documented by historians and presented on site, have become central to the public’s understanding of the era.
Yet, the review process has also opened up old wounds. For descendants of the enslaved, as well as for advocates of racial justice, the prospect of removing or editing these panels feels like a betrayal. "We fought for years to have these stories told," said one local activist outside the site, "and now they’re talking about taking them down? That’s not progress. That’s erasure."
Others, however, see the review as an opportunity to ensure that the exhibits are accurate and balanced. Some visitors have expressed discomfort with the tone of certain panels, arguing that they cast the founding fathers in an unfairly negative light. "It’s important to remember what they accomplished," said a tourist from Virginia, "but also to be honest about their failings. I just hope we don’t lose sight of both sides."
The National Park Service, for its part, has emphasized that the review is standard practice for all public exhibits, especially those dealing with sensitive or evolving historical interpretations. In a brief statement, the agency noted that "public feedback and ongoing scholarship are essential to ensuring that our exhibits remain accurate, informative, and inclusive." While no final decisions have been made, the NPS has promised to consult with historians, community members, and other stakeholders before making any changes.
This isn’t the first time the President’s House site has been at the center of controversy. Since its opening, the site has been praised for its unflinching approach to history, but it has also faced criticism from some quarters for focusing too heavily on slavery. The debate reflects a broader struggle playing out across the country, as communities grapple with how to remember the past and what lessons to draw from it.
As the review continues, the panels remain in place, drawing visitors from around the world. For many, the experience is transformative. Standing before the displays, reading about the lives of the enslaved, and contemplating the contradictions of the nation’s founding, visitors are forced to confront uncomfortable questions. What does it mean to celebrate freedom in a place built on unfreedom? How should we honor the achievements of the past while acknowledging its injustices?
For now, the future of the thirteen panels at the President’s House remains uncertain. But the debate they have sparked is a testament to the power of public history—and the enduring relevance of the stories we choose to tell.
