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Thursday, June 04, 2026

UT should restore Mexican American and Latina/o Studies, Opinion-Editorial, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. & Emilio Zamora, Ph.D.

Friends,

I welcome you to read the op-ed that Emilio Zamora and I co-authored, published today in the Austin American-Statesman. We are grateful to the editors for publishing it and for helping bring public attention to the importance of restoring Mexican American and Latina/o Studies at UT Austin.

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

By ,Guest columnists

Mexican American and Latina/o Studies helps students understand the people, history and culture that shape Texas. UT should restore it, professors Angela Valenzuela and Emilio Zamora write.

Aaron Martinez/American-Statesman 

Concerns about the University of Texas’ commitment to a broad and inclusive education have grown since the dismantling of diversity, equity and inclusion programs on the Austin campus. Those concerns deepened recently when the College of Liberal Arts consolidated four important departments— African and African Diaspora Studies, American Studies,Mexican American and Latina/o Studies (MALS), and Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies — into a new Department of Social and Cultural Analysis.

The decisionraises important questions about the university’s intentions, its academic mission, its contractual obligations to faculty members, staff and students, and whether administrators followed the review process such a significant restructuring requires.

The new Department of Social and Cultural Analysis is now responsible for administering four fully developed academic programs with hundreds of faculty members, staff and students, each grounded in their distinct histories, scholarly traditions and educational goals. That arrangement is not a viable proposition, given the scale of the undertaking and the difficulty of administering a bloated department. Whether its officials anticipate it or not, a perverse incentive exists to pare down the new department to more manageable proportions, thereby diminishing the intellectual and curricular integrity of the fields serving students across the university.


Universities exist not merely to transmit established knowledge but alsoto generate new knowledge, cultivate critical inquiry and help students understand the full complexity of the societies in which they live. As one of the state’s two flagship public universities, UT Austin bears a special responsibility to prepare students for leadership in an increasingly diverse state and nation.


Programs such as MALS help students understand the histories, cultures, labor, civic contributions and lived experiences that have shaped Texas for generations. Weakening fields dedicated to such study risks narrowing, rather than expanding, students' understanding of the state they will inherit and help lead.


Major restructuring like what has occurred at UT allows a university to bypass standard personnel and budgetary rules governing employment and funding arrangements. Faculty, staff and students in the affected departments have been left feeling deeply insecure. Theirs is an uncertain future at the university.

Equally troubling are questions about the process that led to the decision. University officials know the importance of consulting faculty, students, staff, alumni and community partners when making decisions of this magnitude. Yet consolidation was not fully explained to the public or to key stakeholders. Nor was it accompanied by a statement of anticipated impact.

The review committee appointed by university officials to explore the possibility of restructuring the College of Liberal Arts did not include faculty representation either from MALS or Women’s Gender and Sexuality Studies. Also, the university has not solicited feedback or encouraged a public dialogue on such an important issue.
The Latino Coalition for Excellence in Higher Education, a statewide advocacy organization, has made formal requests to meet with UT President James Davis and discuss its concerns. He has not responded in three months.

Universities make difficult decisions all the time. But those decisions should be guided by sound educational policy, transparency and meaningful consultation with the communities they affect. In this case, the university has fallen short.

The consolidation sends an unsettling message that the study of Mexican history, labor, culture, civic life, and thought matters less today than during the last 50 years. Advocates of the other affected fields have been equally perplexed by the university’s undue actions.

UT Austin should restore MALS as an independent department. The university's responsibility is not to marginalize fields that help Texans understand themselves, but to ensure their continued strength and vitality for generations to come.

Angela Valenzuela is a professor of Educational Leadership and Policy at the University of Texas. Emilio Zamora is a professor emeritus in history at the University of Texas.


A Report from UT’s College of Education, by Noah De Lissovoy and Deb Kelt, The Higher Ed Advocate June 3, 2026

Friends:

I am proud of my UT-Austin College of Education fellow colleagues, Dr. Deb Kelt and Dr. Noah De Lissovoy, for this powerful and timely The Higher Ed Substack Advocate post. Writing as educators, scholars, and members of our university community, they remind us that the struggle over academic freedom is not only a struggle over content, curriculum, or political ideology. It is also a struggle over pedagogy itself—over the conditions that allow teaching and learning to be intellectually honest, socially meaningful, and grounded in care, rigor, and relationships.

What Deb and Noah make especially clear is that these attacks do not remain confined to a single college, building, department, or program. In the College of Education, restrictions on teaching ripple outward into Texas classrooms through the teachers, counselors, principals, superintendents, and education leaders we prepare. In Liberal Arts, the consolidation of fields rooted in Ethnic Studies, gender and sexuality studies, and critical interdisciplinary inquiry similarly affects the future of knowledge production, civic understanding, and democratic engagement. In both cases, what is at stake is not simply institutional rearrangement. It is the university’s public mission.

Their post invites us to recognize the courage, solidarity, and clarity already emerging across campus. I am grateful to Deb and Noah for naming what so many of us know to be true: when we defend open and critical inquiry, affirming classroom relationships, and the knowledge traditions that speak to the lives of diverse students and communities, we are defending teaching itself.

May such reports from the front lines of our university continue to illuminate the stakes, strengthen our resolve, and remind us that defending education is a collective calling.

-Angela Valenzuela






A Report from UT’s College of Education

by Noah De Lissovoy and Deb Kelt, Members, AAUP@UT Chapter


In the field of education, we know something about what works in teaching. From this vantage point, the current attack on critical inquiry in higher education in Texas is not just ideological—it is also pedagogical.

Restrictions on academic freedom and on teaching about “controversial” topics (including race, gender, and sexuality) are not just a matter of moving the ideological center of gravity in the classroom; they fundamentally undermine teaching that starts from any perspective, since they make it difficult for teachers to explore with students the full scope of a subject and its social context and implications. But the current conservative attack is not just limited to these aspects of teaching. This attack also makes it hard to make connections between students’ lived experiences and class content, and to create a robust learning community that is grounded on care and solidarity. These pedagogical principles are supported by decades of research on K-12 and higher education teaching.

It should be no surprise then that even as legislators and university administrators in Texas seek to reorganize curriculum and teaching across the university, they have also turned their attention to colleges of education. Like our colleagues in other fields, faculty in education have felt pressure to self-censor and to limit the scope of classroom discussions. (Interestingly, in teacher education spaces, this pressure is felt doubly, since faculty are teaching about the pedagogy that they seek at the same time to embody.) And alongside our UT colleagues, we await the results of a shadowy curriculum audit connected to the passage of Senate Bill 37.

In addition, our College of Education dean, who has been dedicated to supporting faculty and reimagining education to better serve the state and its many communities, was not renewed in his contract despite broad faculty support and remarkable success. The search for his replacement, by a committee with limited faculty representation, has been shrouded in secrecy. At the same time, right-wing news outlets have vilified the college and called out specific courses and staff. A recent successful tenure-track faculty search was blocked at the last minute by the university for reasons that remain obscure to faculty. In the context of these developments, faculty are anxious for themselves and their students.

It is important to recognize that any move to compromise our freedom to teach -- and our students’ freedom to learn -- will not stay contained in the Sánchez Building on UT’s campus. Our students leave to teach in Texas and across the United States, mentoring children with care and rigor in numerous content areas. In this way, our graduates prepare young people for all professions. As teachers of teachers, we know that censoring our work ripples like a rock tossed in a pond: If our UT students receive a compromised education, so will their future students. When one considers the various departments in our college, we can see how the damage compounds further. Stellar superintendents and principals graduate from our programs, as do special education experts, health science specialists, and school counselors. Any move to stymie the work done in these departments will, undoubtedly, cause broad harm.

It is important to recognize that any move to compromise our freedom to teach -- and our students’ freedom to learn -- will not stay contained in the Sánchez Building on UT’s campus.

As educators and scholars dedicated to creating a better world for all people, we have organized to push back against the current challenges. Sixty tenured and professional track faculty in the college signed a letter of concern regarding the non-renewal of Dean Charles Martinez. (Neither the President nor the Provost responded.) We have grown our membership in AAUP in recent months, and we have met as a new college-based group to strategize against interference regarding our right to teach and research. We attend rallies, speak at state school board meetings, and network with like-minded colleagues across UT. We are also working to strengthen relationships with the community, as many of us have long histories with public school teachers here in Austin.

Our group knows the stakes are high for students, staff, and faculty. Though this work of resistance sometimes keeps us up at night, we don’t see any alternative. We have always advocated for our students, for their future students, and for schools in Texas and beyond. The times are certainly different – with aggressive forces working harder than ever to muzzle us -- but we are steadfast in our calling to serve.

Both the recent pressure applied to colleges of education and the resistance to it show that how we understand and organize the process of pedagogy is deeply consequential. This struggle is a reminder to faculty across the university that as we fight for content and courses that are critical and relevant to diverse students we are also fighting for enlivening and affirming classroom relationships, community, and collaboration– that is, for teaching itself.

Wednesday, June 03, 2026

Emma S. Barrientos Mexican American Cultural Center Grand Reopening—Saturday, June 6 from from 11:00 a.m. - 9:00 p.m.

Friends,

What a joy to welcome the grand reopening of the Emma S. Barrientos Mexican American Cultural Center—Juntos de Nuevo—this Saturday, June 6, from 11:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m.

Home to Academia Cuauhtli (meaning "Eagle Academy" in Nahuatl), this reopening is more than a celebration of a beautifully renovated building. It is a testament to our resilience as a community, the strength of our cultural memory, and the ongoing vitality of Mexican American, Latina/o/e, and Indigenous arts, music, dance, food, and storytelling in Central Texas.

At a time when so-called “culture wars” seek to divide us—and when some would have us believe that honoring our histories somehow diminishes others—the MACC reminds us of a deeper truth: we are not at war with anyone. Our culture is not a threat. It is a gift. It is life-giving, bridge-building, future-making, and beautifully ascendant.

The reopening of the ESB-MACC signals real progress in the life of an important community institution. It points to a more inclusive and prosperous future—not only for our communities, but for all of Austin and Central Texas.

May this be a day of reconnection, celebration, and joy.

¡Juntos de nuevo! Together again!

—Angela Valenzuela

Emma S. Barrientos Mexican American Cultural Center Grand Reopening
June 6th from 11:00 a.m. - 9:00 p.m.
600 River St, Austin, TX 78701

RSVP on Facebook or Eventbrite!

The ESB-MACC welcomes the community back to our newly renovated facility with Juntos de Nuevo -a day of reconnection, celebration, and cultural expression. This free family-friendly event is free and open to all.

This reopening is more than a milestone. It is a celebration of identity, creativity, and the enduring cultural legacy of Austin’s communities. The City of Austin’s Arts, Culture, Music and Entertainment department is honored to invite you to visit the renovated Emma S. Barrientos Mexican American Cultural Center.

Get Involved
Upcoming Events 
RSVP on Eventbrite




Arrival and Parking

  • The address of the ESB MACC is 600 River Street, at the intersection of Rainey Street and River Street.
  • The ESB MACC parking lot will be closed to the public from Thursday, June 4th to midnight on Saturday, June 6th. There is no public parking on-site for the Grand Reopening on June 6th.
  • Parking is free in the Holly Street neighborhood. Parking is also available at the Austin Convention Center Parking Lot 5th St. Garage (601 E. 5th St) with a special flat rate of $5 from 10:00am-2:00pm.
  • There will be a free shuttle bus giving rides from the Sanchez Elementary parking lot to the ESB MACC and back from 10:30am-10:00pm. Please look for the "shuttle stop" signs.
  • The ESB MACC building is accessible from Rainey Street and the Ann and Roy Butler Hike & Bike Trail. For an exact location to the entrance of the ESB MACC on the Hike & Bike trail, type in "Trail of Tejano Legends" on Google Maps.
  • Ridesharing and public transit are encouraged. Bicycle parking is available on site.
  • The June 6th Reopening coincides with the reopening of the Waterloo Greenway's Confluence
View the MACC on Google Maps

Featured Artist & Performance Times on June 6th

Performance TimeFeatured ArtistLocation within the MACC 
10:45am-11:45amMariachi SuroesteRibbon Cutting Ceremony at the Gran Entrada (Puerta 3)
11:45am-2:30pmDJ Mira Mira (Xochi Solis) Main Stage, Outdoor (Zocalo)
1:45pm-2:30pmBallet Folklorico de AustinAuditorium, Indoor 
2:30-3:30pmFuzion (Mariachi) Main Stage, Outdoor (Zocalo)
4:00-5:00pmAndrea DanielaMain Stage, Outdoor (Zocalo)
5:00pm-5:30pmLos Fandangueros de AustinSnakepath Head, near Trail (outdoor)
5:30-6:30pmLa Moña LocaMain Stage, Outdoor (Zocalo)
6:30-7:00pmBallet Folklorico MaricruzMain Stage, Outdoor (Zocalo) - dancers in front of stage
7:00pm-8:15pmLos Sabrosos de La CumbiaMain Stage, Outdoor (Zocalo)
8:40pm-9:00pmDanza Azteca GuadalupanaMain Stage, Outdoor (Zocalo) - dancers in front of stage
Event Highlights- June 6th
  • 3 stages with live music under the Zocalo. The main "Zocalo Stage" is outside on our plaza. There will also be an outdoor stage at the edge of the Ann and Roy Butler Hike and Bike Trail, at the head of the "snake path". There are also performances in the Auditorium, inside.

  • Tours of newly renovated indoor & outdoor spaces. Tour times are 12:00pm, 12:30pm, 1:00pm, and 1:30pm. Anyone can join the tour- meet at the purple MACC tent which is in the middle of the Zocalo plaza.

  • All-ages arts, dance, music, theater, and culinary workshops. See workshop schedule below.

  • Free children’s art activities in the new youth education classrooms

  • Art exhibits on view in the NEW Community Gallery (1st floor), Sam Z. Coronado Gallery (2nd floor), and Auditorium Atrium (1st floor)

  • Community Resource Fair featuring local nonprofits.

  • Artisan Vendor Market supporting local Latino/a/e entrepreneurs.

  • Food trucks on site.

RSVP to the Grand Reopening

The Origins of White, Christian Supremacy: Can 15th-century doctrine explain today's culture wars? by David R. Brockman, Texas Observer, September 21, 2023

Today is David R. Brockman day. Here is another piece by him that explores the origins of White Christian nationalism, a focus of mine these days, as well. 

-Angela Valenzuela

The Origins of White, Christian Supremacy: Can 15th-century doctrine explain today's culture wars?

by David R. Brockman, Texas Observer, September 21, 2023, 11:11 AM, CDT

America is undergoing an identity crisis, author Robert P. Jones writes. As revealed in recent studies by Jones’s research organization, Public Religion Research Institute, dramatic demographic shifts have rendered once-dominant white Christians a minority; the nation is more ethnically, culturally, and religiously diverse. So it’s no surprise we find ourselves embroiled in bitter debates over who we truly are.

Many in Texas still insist (despite historical evidence) that we’re a Christian nation, founded by godly (white) men. Countering this mythos, the 1619 Project locates the nation’s genesis in the year Africans were first brought against their will to Great Britain’s American colonies, framing our subsequent history as one of stubbornly systemic racism.

In the new book, The Hidden Roots of White Supremacy and the Path to a Shared American Future, Jones offers an intriguing alternative, which analyzes our racist and violent past and suggests a path to a more pluralistic democracy.


The Hidden Roots of White Supremacy and
the Path to a Shared American Future

Robert P. Jones, Simon & Schuster,
September 2023
Though he applauds the 1619 Project, Jones argues that it neglects Europeans’ prior violence toward Indigenous peoples and “obscures the headwaters” of European colonialism. Jones locates those headwaters in the late 1400s, in the so-called Doctrine of Discovery. Promulgated in papal edicts, this doctrine proclaimed the superiority of Christian civilization and authorized Europeans to claim ownership of any newly “discovered” lands inhabited by non-Christians. The doctrine became part of U.S. law in an 1823 Supreme Court ruling that held the U.S. government had “an exclusive right to extinguish the Indian title of occupancy.”

Jones views the doctrine as a “Rosetta Stone” for understanding the “sense of divine entitlement, of European Christian chosenness, [that] has shaped the worldview of most white Americans.”

To show how whites’ sense of entitlement has played out in America, Hidden Roots examines three localities, each the site of white outrages against African-Americans: the Mississippi Delta, site of the 1955 murder of Emmitt Till; Duluth, Minnesota, where in 1920 a mob of more 10,000 whites lynched three Black men; and Tulsa, Oklahoma, where in 1921, whites descended on the prosperous Black district of Greenwood, burning homes and businesses and killing between 100 and 300 people. In each case, the whites responsible faced little or no punishment.

These atrocities were foreshadowed by earlier white violence in those areas toward Native Americans. A century before Till’s murder, the U.S. government forcibly removed the Choctaw people from the Mississippi Delta, clearing the land for white settlement and a plantation economy exploiting Black slave labor. Jones then shares tales of white depredations against Native Americans in Minnesota and Oklahoma. In 1862, some Dakota people in Minnesota rebelled against white mistreatment and treaty violations. At the end of the five-week uprising, the U.S. government hanged 38 Dakota men after sham military trials, most lasting “only a minute or two,” Jones notes, in the largest mass execution in U.S. history. 
Author Robert P. Jones (Noah Willman)

As for Oklahoma, Jones writes poignantly of the Osage people, who suffered forced assimilation, violence at the hands of white mobs hungry for their land, and then, after oil was discovered, a “Reign of Terror” in which whites systematically swindled and murdered them.


Yet Hidden Roots speaks of hope as well as horror.

Interracial groups in all three areas are taking steps to confront the legacy of white violence. Thanks to the work of the interracial Emmitt Till Memorial Commission, the Mississippi Delta has seen what Jones—a Mississippi native who previously authored The End of White Christian America—calls “an explosion of cultural memory work” around Till’s legacy. Duluth and Tulsa have seen similar efforts of truth-telling and reconciliation.

Though Hidden Roots doesn’t directly address the Lone Star State, Jones notes that “[e]very U.S. state contains similar legacies of white racial violence, because every … state was built on the same foundation … the conviction that America was divinely ordained to be a new promised land for European Christians.”

How did Christianity, which purports to proclaim God’s loving-kindness to all humanity, end up legitimizing racism and violence?

That’s certainly the case with Texas. Consider, for instance, the Battle of Village Creek, which took place just six miles from my Fort Worth home, not long after the removal of the Choctaw from Mississippi and for much the same reason: white hunger for Native American lands. In 1841, a company of Texan volunteers under General Edward Tarrant attacked an extensive settlement of Caddos, Cherokees, and Tonkawas; burned down huts; then engaged in a running gunfight, killing 12 Native Americans and wounding many more. In the wake of the attack, the tribes were forced to desert the settlement.

Four years before the 1920 Duluth lynchings, Waco saw its own gruesome act of white mob violence when Black teenager Jesse Washington “was beaten, stabbed, mutilated, hanged and burned to death” before thousands of “screaming, cheering spectators.” Viewed through Jones’s historical and religious lens, these Texas atrocities are not isolated acts, but part of a broader legacy of racism with religious underpinnings.

While Hidden Roots explores white supremacy’s origins, it begs another question: How did Christianity, which purports to proclaim God’s loving-kindness to all humanity, end up legitimizing racism and violence?

My book No Longer the Same traces this hypocrisy to Christianity’s long theological tradition of regarding non-Christians as largely ignorant of divine truth. Christianity’s confidence that it alone has “the way, the truth, and the life” has too often resulted in the exclusion and mistreatment of religious others. But such theological questions lie beyond the frame of Hidden Roots.

Instead, Jones’s religio-political perspective offers a compelling picture of who Americans are and where we came from. Thought-provoking, solidly researched, and skillfully written, Hidden Roots is a clear-eyed indictment of white supremacy and its religious foundations, one that can help us make sense of our troubled past and envision possibilities for remembrance and renewal.


David R. Brockman, Ph.D., is an author, Christian theologian, and nonresident scholar in the Religion and Public Policy Program at Rice University’s Baker Institute. He teaches at Texas Christian University.

A Light the Darkness Cannot Extinguish," by David R. Brockman, Texas Observer, December 19, 2025

Friends,

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this encouraging piece by Dr. David R. Brockman, a scholar of religion at Texas Christian University and Rice University’s Baker Institute for Public Policy. Like the Rothko Chapel itself, his reflection reminds us of the deep value of multifaith and ecumenical spaces—places where people can gather across difference, sit with complexity, and still search for meaning together.

Christian nationalists might dismiss this kind of expansive, justice-oriented faith as “woke Christianity,” but that label misses the point entirely. What Brockman helps us see is something far older and deeper: a faith rooted in compassion, humility, justice, and the shared dignity of human beings.

Even in darkness, Brockman beautifully shows, there is light. And where there is light, hope, love, and faith can take root. It's awesome that the Texas Observer has this powerful section on religion. As for David Brockman, I'm a fan! 😊

Enjoy!

—Angela Valenzuela


A Light the Darkness Cannot Extinguish


by David R. Brockman | Texas Observer, December 19, 2025

The editor of this publication wasn’t exaggerating when he called 2025 “this frankly awful year”: Things are dark, and likely to get much darker.

Our politics nationally and here in Texas is now firmly in the grip of a narrow, petty tribalism that feeds on enmity. Each day brings new horrors; scrolling through social media inevitably becomes doom-scrolling. The loudest voices work to divide us, inflaming distrust, demonizing (sometimes literally) those who disagree and dehumanizing those regarded as different. Meanwhile, those seeking a more compassionate and just society seem feeble.

As our nation spirals into a nightmarish darkness, there’s an understandable temptation to despair—even as the work of compassion, justice, and solidarity is more urgent than ever. But how can we fend off that temptation, especially when it sometimes seems as if the darkness is all there is?

I, too, struggle with this question. One answer I’ve found in my work as a religion scholar is an affirmation common to several religious traditions. Precisely because it transcends religious boundaries, it can speak to all of us. It testifies—in the words of my own tradition, Christianity—to a light that “shines in the darkness,” a light the darkness cannot overcome, a light of compassion, beauty, justice, and love. The darkness, it says, is never all there is. Indeed, the light is closer than we realize.

Like Christianity, Hinduism attests to a light the darkness cannot overcome. In the annual feast of Diwali (reminiscent of Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of lights), Hindus celebrate the victory of light over darkness by lighting candles throughout their homes. As my Texas Christian University colleague Antoinette DeNapoli has explained, Diwali “celebrates the victory of goodness over evil, or truth over falsity, or knowledge over ignorance.” One need not be Hindu to appreciate setting aside a time each year to celebrate these values.

For its part, the Jewish mystical tradition of Kabbalah points to sparks of infinite light scattered throughout the world. This teaching is rooted in the Kabbalists’ elaboration on the biblical creation story, according to which these sparks are “held captive within every object, every event,” as Tzvi Freeman writes. It is up to us to release them from their captivity through the work of “repairing the world”— tikkun olam—which includes acts of social justice, compassion, and kindness.

Again, one need not subscribe to the specific myth to appreciate the basic insight here. No matter how deep the darkness, sparks of light, beauty, and joy surround us—in, say, a baby’s smile, a lover’s touch, a refugee family’s safe arrival in a place of sanctuary, the first drops of rain on dry earth, a fragile monarch butterfly pausing its 3,000-mile migration to sip nectar from a blue mistflower. These simple beauties hint at a “more than” that transcends the ugly tribalism that consumes our current moment. “When we perceive beauty,” Freeman writes, “it is because we have found [a] window to the infinite.” When we let these joys radiate out in acts of kindness to all our fellow beings, we truly are “repairing the world.”

Perhaps we rejoice in these sparks of light because they reflect the light within each of us. Like recognizes like; light recognizes light. The Quakers speak of an “Inner Light” given to every person. This conviction anchors Quakers’ belief “in full equality among all people.” One Quaker site says, “Guided by the Light of God within us and recognising [it] in others,” we “learn to value our differences in age, sex, physique, race and culture.”

Buddhism, too, speaks of an inner light. In a process called “actualization of enlightenment,” one first “turn[s] the light inward so that we can find the Buddha we carry inside us. And then we turn this spiritual light outward so that we can see the Buddha in others.”

I’m not suggesting that these traditions are “all saying the same thing.” Each teaching is rooted in its religion’s own unique constellation of beliefs and stories. Yet they do appear to point to a common, perhaps deeply human, insight that the darkness of division, injustice, and ignorance cannot be all there is.

One need not subscribe to any religion to recognize and draw strength from this insight. The idea for this essay came to me during a visit this fall to Houston’s Rothko Chapel, which transcends religious boundaries and embraces people of all religions and none. Avowedly multifaith and ecumenical, it stands in stubborn protest against the divisiveness and hatred metastasizing across our nation.

I visited the chapel at a time when the darkness had become very personal. An outbreak of McCarthyist attacks on college faculty across Texas earlier this year resulted in firings for clearly political and ideological reasons, as well as threats and online harassment. I carried that with me as I entered the silent chapel.

Quite unlike the worship spaces of, say, Christianity or Hinduism or Buddhism, where one might find colorful, comforting images of gods or saints or buddhas, the Rothko Chapel offers the visitor “no bright color, no engaging form, no figure with which to identify,” as Carol Mancusi-Ungaro notes. Nor are there the airy, diaphanous “clouds” of color of artist Mark Rothko’s earlier work. One is instead confronted by darkness: Rothko’s oversize, flat panels, apparently featureless, somber, mute.

At first, all seemed uniformly black and forbidding. But as I sat before Rothko’s work, my eyes gradually adjusted to the daylight filtering down from the dome overhead. Subtle differences in color appeared: deep plum and rose, alongside the shades of black. Gossamer textures, too, began to reveal themselves, whispers of form and glimmers of light in what had first seemed impenetrably obscure. Even on the blackest panels, an evanescent shimmering of the filtered daylight played across the surfaces.

When one sits long enough to let Rothko’s panels speak in their own way, they truly do, as art historian Barbara Rose writes, “seem to glow mysteriously from within.” But they require us to take the time to “stop and see” (as the Buddhist tradition says). They reveal their light only when illumined by our own Inner Light. In this way, Rothko’s panels testify to that which religious traditions also reveal.

I came away from the chapel feeling a kind of quiet joy—and energized to carry on the work of compassion, justice, and solidarity.

The lesson I took is simple: Persist; don’t despair. The darkness is never all there is.

This is not blithe optimism. (“Just look on the bright side!”—give me a break.) Realistically, we cannot expect relief from divisiveness, hatred, and tribalism anytime soon; they’re too deeply embedded in our politics and culture, and they’re far too toxic to ignore.

Yet that doesn’t negate the deep truth to which the religions and Rothko’s murals point: There is a light the darkness cannot extinguish. And it is all around us and within us. Our job is to keep doing the work of tikkun olam, repairing our broken world, by recognizing and releasing those sparks of light, of beauty, of joy, wherever and whenever we find them. To carry on the struggle—that’s our job.

For, after all, we are the light in the darkness.


David R. Brockman, Ph.D., is an author, Christian theologian, and nonresident scholar in the Religion and Public Policy Program at Rice University’s Baker Institute. He teaches at Texas Christian University.



Proving the Value of Higher Education Requires Defending It, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. June 3, 2026

Proving the Value of Higher Education Requires 

Defending It

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

June 3, 2026

Allison Schrager’s recent Bloomberg Opinion column posted below, “Colleges Face a Choice: Prove Their Value or Risk Losing Students,” responds to Yale University’s report on public trust in higher education by arguing that colleges and universities must restore public confidence by demonstrating clearer value to students and families (Schrager, 2026). On the surface, this is a reasonable concern. Higher education is expensive. Admissions practices can be opaque. Students and parents worry about debt, employment, and whether a degree is worth the investment. Universities should take these concerns seriously.

But the problem with Schrager’s framing is that it treats mistrust as if it were primarily an institutional failure of higher education itself. That is only part of the story. As I argued in my earlier TexasEdEquity critique of the Yale report on this blog, the crisis we are facing is not simply a crisis of trust in higher education. It is a restructuring of higher education itself (Valenzuela, 2026). The question is not only whether universities can prove their value to the public. The question is whether the public will still be allowed to have universities worthy of trust.

Schrager writes that colleges need to prove their value or risk losing students. She is especially concerned about first-generation students who may already be uncertain about whether college is worth the time, money, and risk. That concern is real. As someone who has spent my career focused on educational equity, Mexican American and Latina/o schooling, and the public mission of universities, I share it. First-generation students deserve institutions that support them, challenge them, graduate them, and prepare them for meaningful lives and livelihoods.

Yet a narrow “return on investment” framing can unintentionally reinforce the very forces that are diminishing higher education’s democratic purpose. If the value of college is reduced to wages alone, then fields that cultivate historical understanding, critical thought, civic imagination, ethical judgment, cultural knowledge, and democratic participation become vulnerable to attack. If universities are judged only by immediate labor-market outcomes, then education becomes training, students become consumers, faculty become service providers, and the public university becomes a credentialing arm of the economy.

That is too small a vision.

The value of higher education is not simply that it helps people get jobs, though it often does. Its deeper value is that it helps people navigate complexity in an ever-changing world. It teaches students to read closely, reason carefully, evaluate evidence, ask better questions, understand historical context, communicate across difference, and participate in democratic life. These are not luxuries. They are survival skills for a society facing climate disruption, artificial intelligence, democratic backsliding, economic inequality, racial conflict, public health crises, and disinformation at scale.

Indeed, employers themselves continue to say that they value precisely these capacities. The Association of American Colleges and Universities has repeatedly found that employers want graduates who can think critically, communicate effectively, adapt, solve complex problems, and work across difference (Finley, 2023, 2025). These are not narrow technical competencies. They are liberal learning outcomes. They are also democratic capacities.

So when Schrager suggests that “less elite” schools may need to become “less academic” and provide more job training, we should pause. Students from working-class, first-generation, rural, Black, Brown, Indigenous, and immigrant communities do not deserve a thinner education than students at Yale. They do not deserve only training while elites receive philosophy, history, literature, political theory, art, science, and critical debate. That would reproduce the very hierarchy higher education should challenge: broad intellectual formation for the privileged, narrow workforce preparation for everyone else.

The problem is not that public universities are too academic. The problem is that they are being pressured to abandon their academic and democratic missions in order to survive political attack, austerity, and market discipline (Valenzuela, 2026; also see Wray, 2024).

This is where Schrager’s institutional affiliation matters. Schrager is identified as a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute. That does not disqualify her from writing about higher education, nor does it mean every point she makes is wrong. But it does require context. 

The Manhattan Institute is not a neutral observer of higher education’s trust crisis. It has been directly involved in campaigns to reshape public universities, including through model legislation aimed at abolishing DEI bureaucracies, ending mandatory diversity training, restricting diversity statements, and eliminating identity-based preferences (Manhattan Institute, 2023). Inside Higher Ed reported that Florida Governor Ron DeSantis’s anti-DEI higher education agenda drew from Manhattan Institute model legislation developed with Christopher Rufo and others (Moody, 2023).

This matters because the language of “restoring trust,” “rigor,” so-called “viewpoint diversity,” and “academic excellence” can operate in two very different ways. It can be a good-faith call for better universities. Or it can be a political vocabulary used to justify state intervention, program elimination, curricular control, anti-DEI laws, donor influence, and the disciplining of faculty and students whose work challenges inequality.

We are seeing the latter across the country.

In Texas, Senate Bill 17 eliminated DEI offices in public universities. Senate Bill 37 has expanded state authority over curriculum, governance, and faculty life. Programs in Mexican American and Latino Studies, African American Studies, Women’s and Gender Studies, and related fields have been threatened, consolidated, renamed, or politically scrutinized. Across the country, public higher education is being told to prove its value while the very conditions that make it valuable—academic freedom, shared governance, critical inquiry, inclusive access, intellectual breadth—are being undermined.

That is why the Yale report, while useful, is incomplete. Others have similarly noted that the report gets some things right—especially around institutional effectiveness, public confidence, transparency, and the need for universities to respond more seriously to legitimate public concerns (Rudawsky, 2026). It names real concerns: costs, admissions, grade inflation, administrative growth, free speech, and public skepticism. 

However from the vantage point of Texas, the deeper issue is power.

Higher education is not simply being misunderstood. It is being remade. And much of that remaking is being carried out by political actors, ideological organizations, donors, and think tanks that have long viewed universities as sites to be captured or disciplined.

Nancy MacLean’s Democracy in Chains helps us understand this longer history. MacLean traces how radical libertarian networks, including those associated with Charles Koch, sought to limit democratic capacity by reshaping law, policy, education, labor, taxation, and public institutions in ways that protect concentrated wealth from democratic demands (MacLean, 2017). One does not have to accept every claim in MacLean’s book to see the relevance: higher education has long been a battleground over whether democracy will serve the public or be constrained on behalf of market power.

Katherine Stewart’s work is equally illuminating. In Money, Lies, and God, Stewart documents an anti-democratic movement that brings together Christian nationalists, billionaire networks, disinformation campaigns, and far-right organizations seeking to transform American democracy from within (Stewart, 2025). Her reporting shows that the assault on public institutions is not random. It is organized, funded, and ideologically motivated. Universities, public schools, libraries, school boards, courts, and state legislatures are all part of the same terrain.

Seen in this light, Schrager’s question—how can colleges prove their value?—needs to be turned around. Higher education should absolutely be accountable to students, families, taxpayers, and the public. But we must also ask: Who is defining value? Who benefits when value is reduced to salary? Who gains when the humanities, Ethnic Studies, gender and sexuality studies, and critical social sciences are framed as politically suspect or economically wasteful? Who profits when public universities are weakened and privatized? Who gains when democratic education is replaced by workforce sorting?

A university’s value cannot be measured only by wages or return on investment. A university also proves its value when it helps students recognize propaganda, understand history, analyze policy, question authority, read the law, evaluate scientific evidence, work across difference, and imagine alternatives. It proves its value when it prepares students not only to enter the economy, but to shape it. It proves its value when it produces teachers, nurses, engineers, artists, organizers, lawyers, scientists, public servants, writers, parents, neighbors, and citizens capable of democratic judgment.

This is why Ethnic Studies is central, not peripheral, to the university’s value. Mexican American Studies, African American Studies, Indigenous Studies, Asian American Studies, Women’s and Gender Studies, and related fields teach students to understand how power works historically and structurally. They connect knowledge to community, memory, identity, policy, and justice. They help students see that democracy is not only a set of institutions, but a practice of belonging, critique, participation, and repair.

In a state like Texas, this is especially urgent. Texas is young, diverse, multilingual, and multiracial. Its future depends on students who can navigate complexity, understand multiple histories, communicate across communities, and participate in democratic life. To dismantle or weaken the very fields that prepare students for this future is not academic reform. It is civic disinvestment.

To be clear, universities should not dismiss public concerns. They should address affordability, debt, student support, admissions transparency, administrative growth, uneven teaching quality, and ideological narrowness where it exists. They should strengthen academic rigor and protect open inquiry. They should make clearer to students and families what a college education offers.

But they should not accept a market-only definition of value. Nor should they allow organizations that are actively working to narrow public higher education to present themselves as neutral arbiters of trust.

If higher education wants to regain public trust, it must do more than prove its economic payoff. It must tell a better truth about what it is for.

Higher education is for work, yes. But it is also for democracy. It is for complexity. It is for memory. It is for ethical judgment. It is for public reason. It is for learning how to live with others in a plural society. It is for asking not only, “What job will this get me?” but also, “What kind of world are we building, who benefits from it, who is harmed by it, and how might it be otherwise?”

The crisis, then, is not simply that universities have lost public trust. It is that trust is being weaponized by forces that want to shrink the democratic mission of higher education. The answer is not to make universities less academic for most students and more intellectually expansive for elites. The answer is to make the full promise of higher education available to all students.

That means defending affordability, access, academic freedom, shared governance, Ethnic Studies, the humanities, the sciences, professional education, and the civic purposes of the university together.

Colleges do need to prove their value. But their value cannot be proven by surrendering to the very forces that are trying to undercut them.

Their value will be proven by defending the university as a democratic public good.

References

Association of American Colleges and Universities. (2025, December 11). New national survey finds strong employer confidence in higher education: Findings show clear alignment between liberal education outcomes and evolving workforce needs, AAC&U. https://www.aacu.org/newsroom/new-national-survey-finds-strong-employer-confidence-in-higher-education

Finley, A. P. (2023). The career-ready graduate: What employers say about the difference college makes. Association of American Colleges and Universities. https://www.aacu.org/research/the-career-ready-graduate-what-employers-say-about-the-difference-college-makes

Finley, A. P. (2025). The agility imperative: How employers view preparation for an uncertain future. Association of American Colleges and Universities. https://www.aacu.org/research/the-agility-imperative

MacLean, N. (2017). Democracy in chains: The deep history of the radical right’s stealth plan for America. Viking.

Manhattan Institute. (2023, January 18). New issue brief: Abolish DEI bureaucracies and restore colorblind equality in public universities. https://manhattan.institute/article/new-issue-brief-abolish-dei-bureaucracies-and-restore-colorblind-equality-in-public-universities

Moody, J. (2023, February 6). DeSantis debuts a new conservative playbook for ending DEI. Inside Higher Ed. https://www.insidehighered.com/news/faculty/academic-freedom/2023/02/06/desantis-debuts-new-conservative-playbook-ending-dei

Rudawsky, D. (2026, April 28). What Yale got right, and what the trust crisis still demands, Institutional Effectiveness Weekly, 37. https://donrudawsky.substack.com/p/what-yale-got-right-and-what-the

Schrager, A. (2026, May 4). Colleges face a choice: Prove their value or risk losing students, Bloomberg Opinionhttps://www.statesman.com/opinion/columns/article/universities-trust-enrollment-decline-opinion-22232350.php

Stewart, K. (2025). Money, lies, and God: Inside the movement to destroy American democracy. Bloomsbury Publishing.

Valenzuela, A. (2026, April 28). The wrong crisis: What the Yale report misses in the age of manufactured mistrust. Educational Equity, Politics & Policy in Texas. https://texasedequity.blogspot.com/2026/04/the-wrong-crisis-what-yale-report.html

Wray, A. (2024, March 27). How these 10 states’ anti-DEI laws will impact college campuses, Reckon.
https://www.reckon.news/justice/2024/03/how-these-9-states-anti-dei-laws-will-impact-college-campuses.html

Yale University. (2026). Report of the Committee on Trust in Higher Education. Yale University.



By Allison Schrager, Bloomberg Opinion | Austin American-Statesman, May 4, 2026


University of Texas students walk through campus last year. If the U.S. values economic mobility, the whole system of higher education needs to regain the trust of the public, Allison Schrager writes.

Jay Janner/Austin American-Statesman

Last week Yale University took the first step on the road to recovery: It admitted it had a problem. That problem is a lack of trust — and the damage that Yale and other top schools have done isn’t to themselves, it is to the entire system of U.S. higher education.

But if universities want to offer a truly rigorous education that is open to good-natured debate, students and faculty of different political backgrounds will need to feel more welcome. Without substantial change, U.S. universities may squander what little trust they have — and the country will be worse off.

America’s elite universities, which produce world-class research and attract top scholars from around the globe, should be a source of pride. But most Americans mistrust the U.S. higher education system, and last year Yale’s president assigned a committee to study the reasons why. The resulting report identifies several culprits: high tuition costs, opaque admissions practices, a politically monolithic culture, and a weak commitment to academic rigor and open debate.These perceptions, the report concedes, are not entirely wrong. The irony here is that even if Yale does nothing to change, it will probably be fine. Elite students and scholars will still want to go there. Donors will still give them money. The consequences will redound for people who go to schools not named Yale or Harvard.

Anyone who would consider a top school like Yale won’t decide against college altogether because of the flaws and excesses detailed in this report. I worry more about the first-generation students who are ambivalent about going to college in the first place, uncertain about whether the investment is worth it and whether they can stick with it.

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In the last 60 years, getting a college degree became part of the American Dream. Technology and the economy changed in ways that rewarded graduates with higher earnings. The result was that many more people — not just the children of the elite but first-generation students too — went to college.

In the last few years, however, this trend has started to reverse. Now about 62% of high school graduates enroll in college or university, down from 70% several years ago.

There is no single reason Americans have turned on higher education, although one big one is that a degree does not pay off like it used to. If you graduate from a four-year degree program at most schools, the odds are still very good that your degree will confer higher earnings over your lifetime. But it is no longer a sure thing. And as tuition got more expensive after 2000, the college wage premium also stagnated. It seems like college is no longer such a good deal.

Still, given the positive expected value, economics alone can’t explain falling enrollments. One reason could be that the mission of many elite universities is muddled. Back when only a small fraction of the population went to college, it could be just a place to read great books, have fun, and stay up late in your dorm room debating Marxism. When it was over, you got a job in banking or law. Elite universities were especially good at providing that experience, and graduates were rewarded with higher pay.

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But once more people started going to college, the experience had to provide more transparent economic value. In theory, less elite schools could have become more like trade schools, but this didn't happen (perhaps because the less elite schools are largely staffed by graduates of elite schools). Also the incentives were never there to change because the U.S. subsidizes all college degrees, even if some pay off more than others.

What if the mission was just academic excellence? In that case, almost all universities — and especially elite ones — failed. Most students don’t go to elite universities, but these schools get outsized attention. So it’s hard not to notice how the supposedly best and brightest students don’t care about their classes, don’t get real grades, and often seem comically immature when trying to be taken seriously. Then students had the nerve to demand the government forgive their loans, an unpopular stance with many Americans.

If these elite schools can’t deliver on their most basic mission, what does that say about the system as a whole? The financial returns to a degree have been falling for years, but the decline in enrollments and erosion of trust is relatively recent, and coincides with many of the controversies that have erupted on elite campuses.

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America’s higher education system is already shrinking and will probably shrink further, especially if it continues to be hard for graduates to find jobs. Some colleges are closing, and universities are focused on degrees that offer a higher earning potential and are cutting departments that are less popular.

These falling enrollments may well be justified. At the same time, for all its problems, college remains an important contributor to economic mobility. It still usually produces higher earnings, and it brings together people from different economic backgrounds.

If the U.S. values economic mobility, the whole system of higher education needs to regain the trust of the public. If more marginal schools want to survive, they will need to be less academic and provide more training in skills that translate into jobs. More elite schools can restore trust by returning to a focus on academic excellence rather than trying to solve all of society’s problems.

Yale’s report does have some good ideas that other universities are also trying, such as curbing grade inflation, making admissions more transparent, reforming university governance and cutting administrative bloat. Fixing the perception of political bias will be harder, especially since most academics lean left.

But if universities want to offer a truly rigorous education that is open to good-natured debate, students and faculty of different political backgrounds will need to feel more welcome. Without substantial change, U.S. universities may squander what little trust they have — and the country will be worse off.


Allison Schrager is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering economics. A senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute, she is author of “An Economist Walks Into a Brothel: And Other Unexpected Places to Understand Risk.”