When the past becomes a political banner, history stops being memory and turns into territory.
Washington D.C., October 2025
Donald Trump officially reinstated Columbus Day as a federal holiday in the United States, calling Christopher Columbus “America’s original hero” and praising the Italian-American community as a cornerstone of the nation. The proclamation, signed just days before October 12, was presented as an act of “cultural recognition and historical legacy,” but reignited a nationwide controversy over what it means to be American.
Speaking from the Blue Room of the White House, Trump declared that “Columbus represents the courage of the pioneers who built our Western civilization and brought the Christian spirit to a new world.” The statement sparked immediate backlash from Indigenous organizations, scholars, and community leaders who denounced the move as a revival of colonial narratives rooted in conquest and historical erasure.
For Trump’s supporters, however, the gesture was seen as a symbolic restoration of pride for Italian-Americans, who faced discrimination throughout much of the twentieth century. In cities like New York, Philadelphia, and Chicago, cultural associations celebrated with parades, flags, and speeches hailing what they called “a cultural victory over progressive censorship.” The proclamation also reinstated the practice of raising both the U.S. and Italian flags on public buildings during the holiday.
Meanwhile, several Democratic governors and mayors maintained the celebration of Indigenous Peoples’ Day, a commemoration established in recent years to honor the resilience and contributions of Native communities. In states like California, New Mexico, and Minnesota, official ceremonies included traditional dances, poetry readings, and public rituals of remembrance, openly challenging Washington’s narrative.
Analysts from the Brookings Institution and Georgetown University noted that Trump’s decision forms part of a broader strategy to reconnect with the cultural base of American nationalism. They argue that this move goes beyond commemoration: it seeks to reactivate a political identity built on ethnic pride, religion, and the reinterpretation of the past as an instrument of power.
In Europe, outlets such as Le Monde and La Repubblica highlighted that Trump’s revival of Columbus Day mirrors a global wave of historical revisionism, where populist leaders invoke imperial or colonial figures to reignite national sentiment. Across Latin America, historians interviewed by universities in Mexico and Argentina pointed out that Columbus, far from representing a civilizing hero, symbolizes a foundational trauma still shaping contemporary inequality.
Within the United States, Indigenous leaders described the reinstatement as a provocation. Representatives of the First Nations Rights Movement reminded the public that colonization brought genocide, enslavement, and dispossession, arguing that symbolic recognition must be paired with concrete measures of restitution and justice.
The updated commemorative calendar has reopened a semantic battle over what “being American” truly means. For some, Columbus embodies exploration and faith—the virtues that forged a nation. For others, he represents the origin of conquest, silence, and denial. Between these visions, collective memory once again becomes a battlefield of politics and identity.
In his closing remarks, Trump addressed “all descendants of Italian immigrants and everyone who loves our homeland”: “We are back, Italians. We love the Italians. America will never forget her heroes.” The applause inside contrasted with the protests outside, where Indigenous banners reminded the nation that not all heroes are remembered by history.
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