The Trump administration has ignited controversy by commandeering the artwork of Norman Rockwell for political messaging, prompting outrage from the artist's family. The Department of Homeland Security has repeatedly posted Rockwell's iconic paintings on its social media accounts to promote immigration enforcement policies. Daisy Rockwell, the artist's granddaughter, recently led a personal tour through the Norman Rockwell Museum to highlight the contradiction between her grandfather's values and the administration's use of his work. The family has publicly condemned this unauthorized appropriation, arguing it distorts Rockwell's legacy of compassion and democracy.
Rockwell's most famous series, The Four Freedoms, was created in 1943 to support America's fight against fascism during World War II. These paintings—depicting Freedom of Speech, Freedom From Want, Freedom of Worship, and Freedom From Fear—were used in war bond campaigns to rally public support against Nazi Germany. Daisy Rockwell emphasizes that her grandfather was "anti-fascist, literally," making the current use of his art particularly galling. The series has since become one of America's most recognizable artistic contributions, frequently referenced and parodied in popular culture.
The Department of Homeland Security has specifically targeted several Rockwell paintings for its propaganda efforts. In August, the agency posted Rockwell's 1971 painting of Americans saluting the flag with the caption "Protect our American way of life." The following month, DHS repurposed his famous 1946 painting of workers cleaning the Statue of Liberty, superimposing slogans like "PROTECT YOUR HOMELAND" and "DEFEND YOUR CULTURE" to promote anti-immigrant policies. Even Rockwell's Santa Claus imagery has been enlisted in this campaign. The Rockwell family responded with a formal letter denouncing these actions, stating the artist was "very clearly anti-segregationist."
This pattern extends far beyond Rockwell's work, reflecting a broader strategy of cultural appropriation. The Trump campaign has repeatedly used music from artists who have publicly objected, including Bruce Springsteen, Olivia Rodrigo, and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Children's literature has also been targeted, with immigration raids branded as "Operation Charlotte's Web" despite protests from E.B. White's descendants. The administration even co-opted Franklin the Turtle, a Canadian character representing kindness and inclusivity, to promote deportation efforts. Stephen Miller, a senior advisor, recently tweeted about watching a Rat Pack Christmas special to argue against immigration, ignoring that Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin were children of Italian immigrants themselves.
Norman Rockwell's artistic journey actually mirrors America's own struggle with inclusion and justice. His early career at the Saturday Evening Post featured idealized scenes of white, middle-class Americana, but this was largely due to editorial restrictions. The magazine prohibited him from portraying people of color except in subservient roles, though he sometimes subtly included them. In the 1960s, Rockwell underwent what his granddaughter calls a "radical transformation," leaving the Post for Look magazine where he painted powerful civil rights images. These works include "The Problem We All Live With," depicting Ruby Bridges integrating a New Orleans school, and "New Kids in the Neighborhood," showing a Black family moving into a white suburb.
The contrast between Rockwell's civil rights paintings and their current misuse could not be more stark. His later work explicitly challenged racial prejudice and celebrated human dignity, values fundamentally at odds with mass deportation campaigns. The artist himself acknowledged his own prejudices and actively worked to overcome them, stating in 1962 that he was "angry at unjust prejudices, in other people and in myself." While we can only speculate what Rockwell would paint today, his family is certain he would condemn the use of his art to promote division and fear. The Rockwell Museum continues to display his civil rights paintings as a testament to his true legacy—one of compassion, courage, and constant self-examination.
