DC’s New Museum Tells Tale Of Tragic Fall Of National Geographic

For a $30 entry fee, I expected more from the new National Geographic Museum of Exploration. Most of the beloved world and nature exploration company’s exhibits were only suitable for children, and the entire museum took maybe an hour and a half to walk through. But that’s far from my biggest complaint.

Almost every plaque or “exhibit” (aka projector screens — there were very few tangible, classic exhibits in the museum) preached on climate change and mankind’s impending doom: “If we continue doing …” then fill in the blank with your choice of climate alarmism — I’m sure it was mentioned at the museum.

The best section of the museum was tucked away in a back hallway. Plaques and pictures detailing Nat Geo’s inception and transformation over the years lined the engraved wooden walls. The first plaque told the story of the company’s birth in 1888, when a group of scholars created the National Geographic Society to capitalize on the American public’s fascination with science during the Second Industrial Revolution. At that time, the Society’s focus was to bring back images of natural wonders and tales of the American pioneer spirit to the American people. “The National Geographic Society was born out of the desire to investigate and engage with the world — to explore,” the plaque said.

For the next 82 years, plaques told the stories of American patriots setting foot on unknown lands, photographing America’s great natural wonders, and interacting with mysterious cultures in the east. My favorite plaque told the story of the National Geographic Society’s first scientific expedition in 1890, a trek to the top of the second-highest peak in North America, Mount Saint Elias. A screen designed like the magazine in which the story of the explorer’s trek was first printed invited visitors to read the original manuscript. It told the story of the group of explorers meeting Alaskan natives, plotting a path up the mountain, and bracing against fearsome storms and snow blindness before returning home.

A later 1940s information board explained how Nat Geo’s dedication to mapping and photographing helped U.S. military intelligence, which, at the time, lacked accurate maps of some of the areas Nat Geo had surveyed. A year later, the National Geographic Society gifted President Roosevelt a “wooden map cabinet filled with reference maps,” the board said, beginning “a tradition of presenting many presidents and global leaders with their own map cabinets.”

But the exhibit room openly stated that the purpose of National Geographic changed as Americans became more climate-focused. “In the 1970s, environmental concern inspired a new generation of activists,” the ’70s plaque read. “With an eye toward stewardship, National Geographic magazine reported on global environmental topics … [as] front-page news.”

Soon, a switch from exploration to climate “conservation” inspired National Geographic to denounce its Western origins in the late 20th century. One plaque called reporting from Western journalists observing other cultures “superficial, lacking in nuance or varied perspectives.” The magazine then switched to embracing the “increasingly global age” as its “global audience grew.”

In the 2000s, National Geographic embraced its new activist label and focused on exposing “pressing issues with increasing urgency,” such as “fragile democracies and threatened cultures.” On the opposite side of that same plaque was a screen telling the story of the 1997 handoff of British-controlled Hong Kong to communist China. The exhibit seemed to complain about how “capitalism went largely unchecked” under British rule and created a massive “wealth gap,” yet it said nothing denouncing the oppression citizens faced under the Chinese Communist Party in the 1990s and today. In fact, the story stopped right after the Communist Party of China received the city.

The last plaque on the history of National Geographic affirms the company’s current mission: “to create a positive impact … [through] the diverse global community of Explorers. … They combat glacial melt, advocate for indigenous cultures, and turn poachers into wildlife protectors. Regardless of their field or project, they make a difference.”

An inspirational short film on the difficulties of documentary filmmaking in the room next door ended with another climate message and the role of employees of National Geographic. “We’re in the business of saving the planet” and “activat[ing] armies of voices for [climate] protection,” employees said in the movie.

To the right of the plaque is one last information board recognizing the “indigenous people [who] have called present-day Washington, D.C., home for over 11,000 years.”

Most people agree that good stewardship of the earth is an important role of humanity. Genesis 1 tells man that he is to “fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion.” In other words, he is to be a responsible caretaker, a steward; however, groups like National Geographic often twist man’s role as steward for political gain. Preaching climate alarmism or forcing people to agree with disputed solutions to real problems is not good stewardship.

Also worth noting is the startling number of left-wing companies that funded the $300 million makeover of what had been the National Geographic Museum. A board near the exit of the museum thanking donors listed those who gave between $1 and $50 million. The Federalist found that nearly all the companies were involved in various degrees of climate activism, six were explicitly pro-abortion, and more than 10 supported or donated to so-called “racial justice” causes.

Other donors include one of the largest diamond mining companies in the world and an AI company that reportedly doesn’t look at its water consumption’s effect on the environment because, given “the nature of technology services activities and the absence of water-intensive processes, water consumption is not currently assessed as a material environmental impact.”