PragerU’s Partnership with the Trump Administration Turns Revolutionary Icons into AI Puppets, Raising Alarms About Education, Diversity, and Digital Manipulation
- AI Meets Ideology: The White House collaborates with controversial nonprofit PragerU to produce AI-generated videos of Founding Fathers and lesser-known Revolutionary figures, blending historical education with modern conservative talking points like Ben Shapiro’s famous quip.
- Lack of Diversity and Broader Implications: The series features an all-white, all-male lineup, ignoring diverse contributors to the Revolution, while highlighting PragerU’s growing influence in public schools and the rise of “AI slop” in right-wing propaganda.
- Tech and Cultural Critique: Amid speculation on tools like HeyGen, experts draw parallels to past schlocky commemorations, warning of how this partnership could distort history and promote biased narratives in an era of digital misinformation.
In an era where artificial intelligence is reshaping everything from art to politics, the White House has teamed up with conservative media powerhouse PragerU to create a series of AI-generated videos that bring Founding Fathers back to life—or at least, a glitchy, sepia-toned version of them. Titled “Road to Liberty,” this initiative launched on June 25 with a high-profile event featuring Secretary of Education Linda McMahon, who briefly stepped away from her efforts to overhaul the Department of Education to endorse the project. Visitors to the White House can now tour displays of notable Revolutionary War figures and places, scanning QR codes that link to these videos. But what sounds like an innovative educational tool quickly reveals itself as a peculiar blend of historical revisionism and digital gimmickry, where John Adams awkwardly mouths phrases like “facts do not care about our feelings”—a line famously attributed to conservative commentator Ben Shapiro, a PragerU contributor.
PragerU, a nonprofit dedicated to promoting “American values through digital media, technology, and edu-tainment,” has long been a lightning rod for controversy. Critics accuse it of peddling climate denial, defending aspects of slavery, and railing against “wokeness” and diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives. The organization expresses deep concerns about “the death of the West” and has increasingly wormed its way into public school curricula across the U.S. In states like Florida and Oklahoma, PragerU materials are now approved for classroom use, with Oklahoma even requiring teachers from “progressive” states to undergo PragerU-partnered assessments to ensure they align with values like respecting “what makes America great” and understanding “basic biology.” As Oklahoma State Superintendent Ryan Walters put it, the goal is to raise “patriots, not activists,” fighting against “leftist propaganda” in schools. This White House partnership amplifies PragerU’s reach, embedding its content in a government-sanctioned exhibit that carries an air of official legitimacy, even if a disclaimer notes it doesn’t imply endorsement by the U.S. Government or Department of Education.
The videos themselves are a fascinating, if unsettling, spectacle. Each one spotlights a figure from the era of the Declaration of Independence, ranging from heavyweights like Thomas Jefferson and John Adams to obscure players like politician Lyman Hall—a disgraced minister—and poet Francis Hopkinson. The AI generation is evident: mouths move almost independently from faces, creating a puppet-like effect in these sepia-toned clips. Ending with a White House logo and PragerU branding, they feel like a conservative content mill’s dream—quick, engaging, and ideologically loaded. Historian Seth Cotlar, who specializes in American history and the far-right, highlighted the odd selection in a Bluesky thread. When I reached out, Cotlar suggested this mix of famous and forgotten figures is a deliberate right-wing populist tactic, positioning conservatives as the “true Americans” akin to these “ordinary guys” who shaped history. It’s a narrative that resonates with grassroots audiences, framing modern conservatism as a continuation of revolutionary spirit.
Yet, the series’ glaring lack of diversity stands out like a sore thumb. The lineup is almost entirely white men, with even the “coming soon” sections on PragerU’s website promising more of the same. Cotlar pointed out that pre-Trump conservative takes on the Revolution often included nods to inclusivity, like the Rhode Island Regiment, Black minister Lemuel Haynes, poet Phillis Wheatley, or soldier Deborah Sampson. Here, there’s no such pretense, which Cotlar sees as a bold statement in an age of heightened cultural wars. This omission isn’t just historical oversight; it’s a reflection of PragerU’s broader agenda, which frequently critiques DEI and promotes a narrow vision of American identity. In partnering with the White House, this approach gains a veneer of authority, potentially influencing how a new generation views the nation’s founding—through a lens that erases contributions from women, people of color, and other marginalized groups.
This venture fits into a larger trend of “AI slop”—ugly, lazy, mass-produced content that’s become the aesthetic of choice for right-wing authoritarians worldwide. In the U.S., President Donald Trump has embraced it enthusiastically, sharing AI-generated images of himself as the Pope or partying in a fictional “Trump Gaza” paradise with Elon Musk. During the response to Hurricane Helene, figures like Amy Kremer of Women for Trump and Senator Mike Lee circulated an AI image of a child hugging a puppy in floodwaters, dismissing concerns about its authenticity with a shrug: “It doesn’t matter,” Kremer posted on X. Such content farms engagement effortlessly, turning misinformation into viral gold. PragerU’s videos elevate this to a new level, produced in direct White House collaboration, raising questions about the ethics of using AI to rewrite history for political gain.
Speculating on the tech behind these videos adds another layer of intrigue. They’re not the crude outputs of basic lip-sync apps like Revive, which I tested with a John Adams portrait and found lacking. Nor do they match the hyper-realism of advanced generators like Veo 3, which creates lifelike videos from text prompts—my experiments yielded far superior results. Midjourney, known for its artistic flair, produced a silent, screaming lunatic when prompted similarly. Hany Farid, a UC Berkeley professor and expert in synthetic media detection, pointed me toward HeyGen, an AI platform that creates talking heads with speech from ElevenLabs. My trials with screenshots from PragerU’s Martha Washington and John Adams videos came close, though PragerU’s versions seem more polished, likely enhanced by traditional editing. With nearly$70 million in reported income last year, PragerU can afford such production values, blending AI with old-school techniques for maximum impact.
Of course, schlocky historical commemorations aren’t new. Cotlar recalled the 1976 Bicentennial minutes—short TV spots sponsored by Shell that aired in 1975-76, winning an Emmy despite being panned as “insubstantial” by critics. As an 8-year-old during the bicentennial, Cotlar absorbed plenty of that era’s kitsch, reminding us that cultural tributes to the Revolution have often prioritized entertainment over depth. But in today’s polarized landscape, PragerU’s AI puppets carry higher stakes. They represent a fusion of technology and ideology that could distort education, especially as PragerU infiltrates classrooms. What does it mean for the White House to lend its platform to an organization criticized for misinformation? As AI tools become more accessible, this partnership signals a future where history is not just retold but remade—often in service of a specific worldview.
“Road to Liberty” isn’t just about animating dead patriots; it’s a microcosm of broader battles over truth, inclusion, and technology in American discourse. By partnering with PragerU, the White House risks normalizing biased narratives under the guise of patriotism. As Cotlar and others warn, this could erode the nuanced understanding of our past, replacing it with engaging but empty “edu-tainment.” In a time when facts increasingly bend to feelings—ironically echoing Adams’ borrowed line—it’s worth asking: Who gets to script the story of America, and at what cost to its diverse reality?