As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary, the life and work of Thomas Jefferson continue to resonate, embodying both the nation's greatest aspirations and its deepest contradictions, according to historians.
Jefferson, the principal author of the Declaration of Independence, famously proclaimed that "all men are created equal" while simultaneously owning enslaved people throughout his life. This fundamental paradox has made him a uniquely adaptable figure in American history, claimed by a wide spectrum of political movements and ideologies.
Presidential historian Jon Meacham noted that the definition of a "Jeffersonian" ideal has shifted over time. For a period before the Civil Rights Movement, it often signified a belief in states' rights and limited government. However, President Franklin D. Roosevelt invoked Jefferson as an "apostle of liberty" who would have supported the U.S. in fighting Nazi Germany during World War II.
Andrew Burstein, a professor of history at Louisiana State University, described Jefferson as "Democracy's Muse," a figure so malleable he has been characterized as an FDR liberal, a Reagan Republican, and a Tea Party fanatic, all posthumously. Historian Peter S. Onuf echoed this sentiment, stating that at various times, almost everyone might have considered themselves "Jeffersonian," despite his often-controversial nature.
The enduring debates surrounding Jefferson's legacy are palpable even at sites dedicated to him. At the University of Virginia, which Jefferson founded, a memorial acknowledges the enslaved individuals who lived and worked there. At Monticello, his mountaintop estate, exhibits detail the lives of the hundreds of enslaved people, including Sally Hemings, with whom Jefferson is widely believed to have fathered children.
Brandon Dillard, Monticello's director of historic interpretation and audience engagement, stated that the staff's mission is "to tell unflinching stories of America's complex origins and fitful progress toward the ideals Jefferson articulated in the Declaration of Independence." Even elements like the "Mimosa Pudica" plant, which Jefferson struggled to grow, now thrive due to climate change, symbolizing how contemporary issues find their way into historical interpretations.
Monticello also grapples with modern questions of race. Dillard acknowledged that the predominantly white guiding staff reflects a broader national trend in the museum and historic site workforce, where nonwhite employees report higher rates of discrimination and harassment.
Throughout American history, Jefferson has been invoked by opposing sides of major conflicts. Confederates and segregationists cited his defense of states' rights, while Abraham Lincoln and civil rights leaders, including the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., emphasized his role in authoring the Declaration of Independence. In 1963 alone, he was referenced in the defiant inaugural speech of Alabama Gov. George Wallace and in King's "I Have a Dream" speech.
Later political figures also claimed Jefferson's mantle. President Ronald Reagan cited him as an opponent of wasteful spending, while President Donald Trump quoted Jefferson's skepticism of newspapers to implicitly support his criticism of "fake news."
Even on contemporary issues like immigration, Jefferson's legacy is contested. Author Ibram X. Kendi points to Jefferson's documented belief in colonization for Black people as a precursor to modern xenophobia. Conversely, Monticello continues its July 4 naturalization ceremonies, a tradition that has persisted for decades, including during the Trump administration's restrictive immigration policies. Virginia Gov. Abigail Spanberger was scheduled as this year's keynote speaker.
Dillard noted that these ceremonies serve as a reminder that "the values uplifted in that Declaration are values toward which people from all backgrounds aspire."
Hundreds of thousands of visitors flock to Monticello annually. For many, like Duane Cromwell, a visitor from Vancouver, the site offers a chance to confront historical narratives, moving beyond "whitewashed Southern versions" and understanding the pervasive nature of racism, comparing it to invasive kudzu.
For visitors like Cromwell, Monticello serves as an educational space, a means "to become a better person—and, like countless others before her, using Thomas Jefferson as a prism."