Your National Park Visit Is Changing As History and Climate Become Key Issues

In late April 2025, the White House declared National Park Week, urging Americans to embrace the beauty and history of the nation’s 400-plus national park sites. The proclamation, issued by President Donald Trump, spotlighted the 250th anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord, celebrated at Minute Man National Historical Park in Massachusetts. Ceremonies and reenactments there honored the patriots who sparked the American Revolution, framing parks as living tributes to the country’s founding ideals.

The administration’s focus extended beyond commemoration. It highlighted efforts to restore traditional park names, like reverting Denali to Mount McKinley, and announced the National Garden of American Heroes, a monument to honor 250 figures embodying courage and national pride. These moves signal a broader push to shape park narratives around unity and achievement, encouraging visitors to connect with a celebratory view of American history.

National parks, from Yellowstone’s geysers to Gettysburg’s battlefields, draw over 330 million visitors annually. They’re cherished as places to reflect, recreate, and learn. Yet, the 2025 proclamation arrives at a time when parks face pressing challenges, from climate-driven destruction to debates over whose stories they tell. The call to celebrate the past unfolds against a backdrop of complex modern realities.

For many, the emphasis on patriotism resonates deeply, tying parks to shared values. But others question whether a focus on heroic narratives risks sidelining the fuller, often painful, history of the land and its people. This tension sets the stage for a deeper look at the role of national parks today.

National parks have long been stages for telling America’s story, but which stories take center stage is a matter of fierce debate. The 2025 proclamation leans heavily on tales of revolutionary valor and national greatness. Historians like Dr. Sarah Kaplan, who studies public memory, argue that while these narratives inspire, they can overshadow the experiences of Indigenous peoples, Black Americans, and others whose histories are inseparable from park lands.

For example, Yellowstone, established in 1872 as the world’s first national park, was created by displacing Native tribes like the Shoshone and Blackfeet. Early park narratives framed the land as pristine wilderness, erasing centuries of Indigenous stewardship. Recent efforts by the National Park Service have sought to correct this, with interpretive programs highlighting Native contributions and the violence of removal. Yet, some park visitors and policymakers resist these shifts, viewing them as detracting from a unifying national story.

The administration’s push for education that fosters love of country, including through a White House task force on America’s 250th birthday, has sparked mixed reactions. Supporters, including educators like James Thornton of the Heritage Foundation, say it counters divisive reinterpretations and restores pride in shared heritage. Meanwhile, advocacy groups like the National Parks Conservation Association caution that selective storytelling could alienate diverse communities, whose histories deserve equal weight.

Balancing these perspectives is no small task. Park rangers, tasked with engaging visitors, often navigate polarized expectations. At sites like Manzanar, which memorializes Japanese American incarceration during World War II, staff work to present hard truths while fostering dialogue. The challenge is crafting narratives that honor all Americans without glossing over the nation’s complexities.

Beyond historical debates, national parks face an existential threat from climate change. Temperatures in park lands have risen twice as fast as the national average since 1895, with some areas warming by 1.0°C per century. By 2050, parks like Yosemite and Glacier could see a fivefold increase in extremely hot days, straining ecosystems and infrastructure.

The impacts are already stark. In 2022, Yellowstone’s catastrophic floods washed out roads and reshaped rivers, while wildfires in Sequoia National Park killed ancient sequoias. Coastal sites, like the Everglades and Statue of Liberty, face rising seas that erode cultural landmarks. Scientists warn that without drastic emissions cuts, many park resources, from glaciers to historic structures, could vanish by century’s end.

The National Park Service has responded with adaptation measures, like reinforcing trails and restoring heat-resistant species. But funding remains a hurdle. The 2020 Great American Outdoors Act funneled billions toward repairs, yet a $23 billion maintenance backlog persists. Recent budget cuts, including a 5% staff reduction in 2024, have left parks struggling to maintain facilities and protect resources, even as visitation soars.

Access to national parks is another pressing issue. Despite record crowds, only 23% of visitors in 2024 were people of color, compared to 42% of the U.S. population. Cost, transportation, and cultural barriers contribute to this gap. Fee hikes at popular parks, like Yosemite’s $35 entry, hit lower-income families hardest, raising concerns about parks becoming exclusive enclaves.

Historical inequities also linger. The creation of many parks involved displacing communities, from Black residents in Shenandoah to Native tribes in the Grand Canyon. Segregation once barred Black Americans from equal access, and while legal barriers are gone, structural ones remain. The Park Service’s workforce is 80% white, and outreach to diverse communities is often underfunded.

Efforts to bridge these gaps include targeted programs, like free entry days and youth engagement initiatives. The 2025 federal budget allocates $15.1 million to advance equity, building on prior commitments. Still, advocates like Maria Gonzalez of the Latino Outdoors coalition argue that true inclusion requires co-management with Indigenous groups and sustained investment in diverse staffing and programming.

National Park Week 2025 invites Americans to celebrate parks as symbols of heritage and beauty, a call that resonates with millions who find solace in their trails and stories. Yet, the vision laid out in the proclamation, with its focus on patriotic pride, is just one piece of a larger puzzle. Parks are not static monuments; they’re dynamic spaces where history, nature, and human aspirations collide.

As climate pressures mount and debates over history intensify, the National Park Service faces a delicate balancing act. It must preserve irreplaceable resources, tell inclusive stories, and ensure access for all, all while navigating tight budgets and competing visions of what parks should be. The path forward will require tough choices, from prioritizing climate resilience to amplifying marginalized voices, if these cherished spaces are to endure for future generations.