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Monday, September 14, 2026

Turning Civil Rights Against Civil Rights: Compact 2.0 and the New IRS Threat to Higher Education, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. Sept. 14, 2026

Turning Civil Rights Against Civil Rights: Compact 2.0 and the New IRS Threat to Higher Education

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

September 14, 2026

In 1983, the Supreme Court decided by a vote of 8 to 1 that Bob Jones University could not hold a federal tax exemption while prohibiting interracial dating and marriage among its students. The reasoning was compact enough to state in a sentence: An institution may not claim a public subsidy while maintaining a policy that violates a fundamental public policy of the United States.

On September 3, 2026, the Treasury Department and the IRS proposed a rule that keeps that sentence intact and changes what it points at.

Under the proposal, a private school would lose its exempt status under section 501(c)(3) if it "adopts, maintains, or enforces a policy or practice that discriminates on the basis of race, color, or national or ethnic origin"—in admissions, scholarships, financial aid, athletics, facilities, or any other school-supported program. The IRS estimates that as many as 18,000 private educational institutions could be affected (Internal Revenue Service [IRS], 2026).

A rule against racial exclusion has become a rule against race-conscious inclusion. The doctrine built to keep a segregated university from drawing on the public purse is now aimed at universities trying to widen who gets in.

The hinge is the word "fundamental"

The Bob Jones holding depended on a prior determination: That opposition to racial discrimination in education was a fundamental public policy, settled, national, and not seriously contested. Justice Powell, concurring separately, was uneasy about precisely this. He worried about an arrangement in which the IRS decides which policies are fundamental without clear direction from Congress.

That concern has aged into the present tense. Whoever supplies the content of "fundamental public policy" controls the exemption. In 1983 the content came from Brown, from the Civil Rights Act, from two decades of national struggle. In 2026 the content comes from an administration that reads Students for Fair Admissions as having settled not just what universities may do in admissions but what the nation fundamentally believes about race.

The image we are invited to see here is the ouroboros—the serpent swallowing its own tail, the civil rights movement's own logic arriving at last at its conclusion, the circle closing itself. That is the entire argument for colorblindness compressed into a picture, and it is a seductive one, because it asks us to understand what is happening as completion rather than reversal. 

But an ouroboros is a closed system. The snake acts on itself. This circle, however, is not closed at all; someone reached in and intervened. The doctrine did not turn on itself: It was turned, by an administration that did not write it, did not win it, and does not share its purpose.

The proposal would delete sections 3.02 and 4.05 of Revenue Procedure 75-50 and modify Revenue Ruling 71-447—the provisions that, for half a century, allowed schools to run programs favoring racial minority groups where the purpose was to create or maintain a racially nondiscriminatory educational environment. Schools may still consider income, geography, first-generation status, individual hardship, military-family status, or academic achievement. What they may not do is act on race, color, or national or ethnic origin.

So a university rule forbidding interracial relationships and a scholarship intended to increase the number of Black physicians are to be treated as the same kind of thing, because both notice race. One was built to preserve separation. The other exists because separation worked. Collapsing them requires ignoring purpose, history, and effect—which is to say, requires ignoring everything that made the original rule make sense.

Comments are due November 3, 2026. The regulations would apply to taxable years beginning after May 31, 2027. And in a dispute, the school would carry the burden of establishing its own compliance.

That last detail deserves more attention than it has received. Burden-shifting is not an administrative technicality: It is the mechanism by which a proposed rule starts operating before it exists.

The part nobody is discussing: national origin

Source: HACU
The proposal does not stop at race. It reaches national or ethnic origin, and that distinction has barely registered in the coverage.

In 2024-25, there were 645 Hispanic-Serving Institutions in the United States, enrolling 68.2 % of all Hispanic undergraduates. Roughly 200 of them are private (Hispanic Association of Colleges and Universities [HACU], 2026). The private nonprofits among those are 501(c)(3) organizations, and the rule reaches them directly.

I want to be careful here, because the precise claim matters. HSI status is not a preference. It is a federal designation based on enrollment composition—an institution qualifies at 25 percent Hispanic undergraduate full-time-equivalent enrollment. My own institution, the University of Texas at Austin, is an HSI. The IRS proposal targets what a school does, not what its enrollment happens to look like.

But consider what HSIs actually build: recruitment pipelines into predominantly Latino high schools; scholarship funds established by donors for students of Mexican American or Puerto Rican descent; bilingual advising; culturally sustaining curricula; mentoring programs; and summer bridge initiatives—many of them described, funded, and evaluated in explicitly ethnic terms because that is what they were designed to address. These are "school-supported programs." Under the proposed language, the relevant question becomes whether a private institution can defend each of them without reference to national origin.

And this is not the only pressure point. In June 2025, the State of Tennessee and Students for Fair Admissions sued the Department of Education over Title V grants to HSIs, arguing the 25 percent threshold is unconstitutional. The Department declined to defend the statutory provisions establishing the programs. Two of the three challenged Title V programs have since been defunded, and the case remains pending in the Eastern District of Tennessee (Meltzer Center, 2026).

Two tracks, then. One through the tax code, one through the grant programs. Neither requires Congress to pass anything.

Where Compact 2.0 comes in

The original Compact for Academic Excellence in Higher Education, circulated October 1, 2025, opened by naming what institutions receive from the federal government: "(i) access to student loans, grant programs, and federal contracts; (ii) funding for research directly or indirectly; (iii) approval of student and other visas in connection with university matriculation and instruction; and (iv) preferential treatment under the tax code." Institutions remained free to develop other models, the document said, "if the institution elects to forego federal benefits" (Trump administration, 2025).

Eleven months later, the fourth item has a proposed mechanism.

I am not claiming these are the same initiative or that they were coordinated. The IRS proposal has its own legal rationale and its own administrative track. What I am saying is narrower and, I think, harder to dismiss: an inventory of leverage was published, and we are now watching items on that inventory acquire operational form.

Against that backdrop, read Secretary McMahon's August 3 letter. It asks institutions to publish, by the end of 2026, a clear public statement of commitment across seven areas—admissions transparency, free speech, intellectual pluralism, affordability, academic rigor in the age of AI, research security, and American workforce priorities (U.S. Department of Education, 2026). University leaders were reportedly told there would be "no carrots and no sticks," even as a Department official described the goal as "radical reform" and suggested the government might prefer to work with institutions that share its priorities (Diep, 2026).

Francie Diep asked whether this is an olive branch or a gloved fist. I would suggest the distinction matters less than it appears. The letter arrives at boards that have just watched the fourth item on the Compact's list acquire a proposed rule. Whatever the letter intends, that is the room it is read in.

The governance of knowledge

This is what I mean when I talk about the governance of knowledge.

The state does not need to walk into a classroom and tell a professor what to teach. It instead adjusts the conditions under which knowledge-producing institutions survive, and lets the institutions do the rest. Three features make this work.

It aggregates the following: Research funding, Title IV aid, accreditation, visas, federal contracts, civil-rights enforcement, and tax status. Each of these is individually defensible, and each is litigated, analyzed, and debated on its own terms. But no provost experiences them one at a time. Legal analysis proceeds lever by lever. Governance is felt as a weight, anchored in accumulated experience—in what these institutions have already watched happen to others.

It anticipates. The comment period is open. The rule would not apply until taxable years beginning after May 31, 2027. Yet the scholarship reviews are happening now, in general counsel offices, this fall. When the burden of proof sits with the institution, preemptive retreat is not cowardice—it is the rational response to uncertainty. 

The chilling effect is not a side effect of the policy. Under these conditions it is the policy, and it operates whether or not the rule is ever finalized.

It launders attribution. Because the university acts, the university is the actor of record. No one is ordered to close a program. The program simply becomes too risky to defend, and its closing appears in the minutes as institutional prudence. This is what makes the arrangement so difficult to contest politically. There is no defendant. There is only a series of ostensibly reasonable decisions made by people trying to protect their institutions.

None of this means federal oversight is illegitimate. Universities that accept public benefits are properly subject to law and to public accountability, and there are real questions about admissions, cost, and governance that higher education has been slow to answer for itself.

But there is a difference between the government enforcing a rule and the government making certain commitments feel too expensive to hold. The first is accountable. The second is practically invisible.

The public policy doctrine was built to stop an institution from claiming public support while practicing exclusion. If that same doctrine can be turned around to stop an institution from widening access, then it was never a protection. It was an instrument, and it belongs to whoever holds the pen.

That is bigger than DEI. It is a question about who governs knowledge in the United States, and by what means—and about whether the answer is now determined less by law than by the accumulated weight of what universities decide they can no longer afford to defend.

References

Diep, F. (2026, August 3). For higher ed, Trump's Compact 2.0 is either an olive branch or a gloved fist. The Chronicle of Higher Education. https://www.chronicle.com/article/for-higher-ed-trumps-compact-2-0-is-either-an-olive-branch-or-a-gloved-fist

Duehren, A., & Bender, M. C. (2026, September 3). Trump moves to strip tax exemption from schools that aid minority students. The New York Times. https://www.seattletimes.com/nation-world/nation-politics/trump-moves-to-strip-tax-exemption-from-schools-that-aid-minority-students/

Hispanic Association of Colleges and Universities. (2026). Hispanic-Serving Institutions across the nation total 645. https://hacu.net/hispanic-serving-institutions-across-the-nation-total-645/

Internal Revenue Service. (2026, September 3). Treasury, IRS move to end tax-exempt status for discriminatory practices in private schools (IR-2026-103). https://www.irs.gov/newsroom/treasury-irs-move-to-end-tax-exempt-status-for-discriminatory-practices-in-private-schools

Meltzer Center for Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging. (2026). State of Tennessee et al. v. United States Department of Education et al. Advancing DEI Litigation Tracker, New York University School of Law. https://advancingdei.meltzercenter.org/cases/state-of-tennessee-et-al-v-united-states-department-of-education-et-al-district/

Trump administration. (2025, October 1). Compact for Academic Excellence in Higher Education. https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/Compact-for-Academic-Excellence-in-Higher-Education-10.1.pdf

U.S. Department of Education. (2026, August 3). U.S. Secretary of Education Linda McMahon issues national call to action to university presidents and governing boards. https://www.ed.gov/about/news/press-release/us-secretary-of-education-linda-mcmahon-issues-national-call-action-university-presidents-and-governing-boards

U.S. Department of Education. (2026, August 3). A national call to action to university presidents and governing boards. https://www.ed.gov/media/document/national-call-action-university-presidents-and-governing-boards-114351.pdf

U.S. Department of the Treasury & Internal Revenue Service. (2026, September 4). Racial nondiscrimination in private schools. Federal Register, 91, 56811–56819. https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2026/09/04/2026-18127/racial-nondiscrimination-in-private-schools

Monday, September 07, 2026

The Political Transformation of UT Austin: 2020 - 2026, by the Austin chapter of AAUP-Texas AFT

Friends:

For those interested—and I hope there are many—here is a timeline compliments of the UT-Austin chapter of the American Association of University Professors (AAUP) of our political transformation over a 6-year time period. To this, I add “A Funeral for Academic Freedom at UT: Five Videos from a Day of Grief, Witness, and Resistance" and our highly successful People's Hearing that took place on August 12, 2026 that I also covered in this blog titled, "'I Will Not Submit': A Powerful Day at the Historic Texas People’s Hearing." (Video)

Though neither the funeral nor the People's Hearing were specifically sponsored by the UT-Austin chapter, members, myself included, certainly participated in these.

So much of what I write about of late is UT-Austin, but also other Texas universities together with various concerns I've expressed over not just academic freedom and faculty governance, but the governance over knowledge that accounts for why curtailing the former are so vital to the latter as forces about which all citizens, voters, and taxpayers should be concerned.

Whether you are or not at UT-Austin, consider signing up for AAUP/Texas AFT membership here

I appreciate my colleagues for providing this. Very helpful.

In solidarity.

-Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.


The Political Transformation of UT Austin

2020 – 2026

2020–21


●  June 2020  "Eyes of Texas" controversy erupts.

●  August 2020  Amid COVID restrictions, the UT System Board of Regents names Interim President Jay Hartzell the sole finalist for the permanent presidency — a departure from the Board’s typical national search process.

●  September 2020  Hartzell appointed President at $1.25 million/year, $255,000 (roughly 25%) over  predecessor Greg Fenves.

●  March 2021  A UT report on "Eyes of Texas" finds "no racist intent," but the president says athletes and band members won’t be required to sing or participate.


2022–23


●  July 2022  Civitas Institute founded with Hartzell’s cooperation and $6M each from UT and state/system funds, backed by Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick’s office and the Texas Legislature.

●  May 2023  Board of Regents approves the School of Civic Leadership, a new college created to house the Civitas Institute.

●  July 2023  The Texas Legislature passes Senate Bill 17, which mandates the closure of all diversity, equity, and inclusion offices at state-funded institutions. The law prohibits DEI-related staffing, training mandates, and diversity statements, while requiring strict disciplinary measures and regular state audits for enforcement.


2023–24


●  January 1, 2024  SB 17 takes effect: the Multicultural Center, Gender and Sexuality Center, Monarch Program, and other offices close.

●  April 2024  Hartzell fires roughly 60 staff formerly working in DEI programs.

●  April 2024  Hundreds of campus, city, and state police respond to Palestine protests on campus; 136 students and faculty are arrested.

●  April 2024  UT Austin AAUP, led by chapter president Pauline Strong, delivers a no-confidence letter signed by 500+ faculty (~16% of UT faculty).

●  May 2024 UT Austin lecturer Rich Heyman fired after having been arrested at Palestine protests.


2024–25


●  Fall 2024  COLA Dean Ann Huff Stevens is not renewed. In an email, she says Hartzell prevented her renewal.

●  Jan 2024 – Jan 2025  Eight top administrators resign, are demoted, retire, or are not renewed — including five vice presidents, nearly half of UT’s 12 VP positions.

●  January 2025  Hartzell announces he is departing for SMU. 

●  February 2025  Jim Davis is named interim president.

●  Fall 2024 – Spring 2025  Provost turmoil: Provost Sharon Wood asked to resign with no explanation; Rachel Davis Mersey (Dean, Moody School) becomes interim provost in Sept. 2024, is promoted to provost in Jan. 2025, then is pushed out; CNS Dean David Vanden Bout replaces her as interim provost in Feb. 2025.

●  April 2025  UT ends its flags program mid-semester with no replacement.

●  June 2025  Texas Legislature adopts SB 37, limiting shared governance: faculty senates exist only by board permission, presidents make half of appointments, and a new ombudsman can recommend cutting state funds for noncompliant schools.

●  July 2025  Interim President Jim Davis’s role is made permanent as sole finalist; salary $1.25 million/year.

●  July 2025  Texas Legislature adopts SB 2972, regulating campus speech and undoing 2019 legislation that designated campuses “traditional public forums.”

2025–26


●  August 2025  William Inboden is named Provost as sole finalist; he previously led UT’s Clements Center and directed the Hamilton Center at the University of Florida.

●  August 2025  UT’s Faculty Council is abolished: going beyond SB 37, which would have allowed a 50% elected faculty senate.

●  September 2025  College of Education Dean Charles Martinez is not renewed.

●  October 2025  Senior Vice Provost for academic Affairs Art Markman is fired “due to ideological differences.” 

●  October 2025  Graduate Student Assembly is blocked by UT from considering two resolutions opposing SB 17 and SB 37.

●  December 2025  Lillian Mills resigns as the first woman to serve as Dean of the McCombs School of Business.

●  January 2026 Claudia Mora departs her position as Dean of the Jackson School of Geosciences.

●  January 2026  Provost Inboden closes the Center for Teaching and Learning, the Office of Community Engagement, the Vick Advising Excellence Center, and the Office of Undergraduate Research.

●  February 2026  President Davis announces consolidation of three programs — including the School of Information — into one interdisciplinary unit within the College of Natural Sciences.

●  February 2026  Davis announces closure of seven COLA departments, merging into two new departments: Social and Cultural Analysis (African and African Diaspora Studies, American Studies, Mexican American and Latina/o Studies, Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies) and European and Eurasian Studies (Slavic and Eurasian Studies, French and Italian, Germanic Studies). Originally set for Fall 2027, the timeline is expedited to Fall 2026.

●  April 2026  LBJ School Dean JR DeShazo is not renewed. More than ⅓ of dean positions — 7 of 18 leaders — are now in flux.

●  June 2026  UT leaders fire KUT general manager Debbie Hiott.

●  June 2026  A new Vice Provost for the Arts position moves oversight of the Blanton Museum and Texas Performing Arts into the Provost’s office.

●  July 2026  New Center for Humanities appears online. The Center’s website indicates it will focus on teaching and research related to the Core Curriculum. The Center is housed under the Provost’s office but shares faculty ties with the School of Civic Leadership. 

●  August 2026  President Davis announces the new core curriculum, created by a faculty committee including many members from the School of Civic Leadership. The proposal narrows general education to focus on topics like Western civilization and U.S. history, cuts required credit hours from 42 to 36, reduces STEM hours and reduces 10 areas of study into three pillars: Arts and Humanities, Social Sciences, and STEM. Full implementation planned for fall 2027.

●  August 2026  The School of Civic Leadership, now with 44 faculty, announces new degree programs for Fall 2027: Civics Honors, Great Books Honors, and Strategy & Statecraft.

               





Gen Z Is Ready to Vote. Will Democracy Meet Them There? by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D., September 7, 2026

Gen Z Is Ready to Vote. Will Democracy Meet Them There?

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

September 7, 2026

Happy Labor Day, everybody and happy to share this encouraging recent piece in The Hill on Gen Z and the 2026 midterms. Gen Zers—or “Zoomers”—matter deeply to me because they, together with younger Millennials, are the young people I teach in college. I do not experience them primarily as a demographic category or a voting bloc. I know them as students: thoughtful, worried about their futures, impatient with hypocrisy, sometimes cynical about politics, but also remarkably attentive to the world around them.

Just behind them is Gen Alpha, today's children and younger teenagers, the oldest of whom are now in their mid-teens. They, too, are watching. They are coming of age amid financial insecurity, political polarization, climate anxiety, war, attacks on public education, rapidly changing technologies, and an affordability crisis that they already understand through their own families. They may not yet be old enough to vote, but they are hardly oblivious to what is going on.

All of this is why the new polling on Gen Z caught my attention.

The Hill article reports that 31 percent of Gen Z voters who supported Donald Trump in 2024 now say they regret that vote, a higher share than among older generations. Trump's approval among Gen Z stood at only 33 percent. 

But the finding I find more interesting is that 40 percent of Gen Z respondents describe politics as “very important” to their personal identity—the highest percentage of any generation surveyed (Feldstein et al., 2026; Smedley & Hamberg, 2026).

Navigator Research aptly titled its report Anything But Apathy. That strikes me as exactly right. Gen Z may be frustrated with politics, but frustration should not be confused with disengagement. These young adults appear to be watching closely, assessing what political leaders promised against what has actually happened, and making judgments accordingly.

Nor do they appear ready to give either political party their unconditional allegiance. Nor should they. This alliegance must be earned by those running for office.

Navigator found considerable dissatisfaction with Trump and pessimism about the economy, but that does not translate automatically into confidence in Democrats. Younger adults are disproportionately represented among what the researchers call “economic persuadables”—people unhappy with Trump's handling of the economy who nevertheless remain unconvinced that Democrats would do better (Smedley & Hamberg, 2026).

Again, I find something encouraging in this.

Young people ought to question what they inherit from us. They should notice when rhetoric and reality do not match. They should be free to change their minds about a candidate or a party without being accused of inconsistency. A vote cast at 18, 20, or 25 should not become a lifetime political identity simply because it was one's first choice.

There is such a thing as political learning.

It happens when experience complicates what we thought we knew. It happens when the consequences of policy show up in rent, grocery bills, tuition, wages, health care, or one's ability to imagine owning a home someday. And sometimes it happens when a voter looks at the person they supported and decides, This is not what I thought I was voting for.

There is another reason to pay attention to Gen Z in 2026. A survey cited by The Hill, conducted by URGE and HIT Strategies, found that 93 percent of the young people surveyed said they would “certainly” or “probably” vote in the midterm elections. Intentions do not always become votes, of course, and youth turnout has historically lagged behind that of older Americans. But nearly 49 million young people ages 18 to 29 will be eligible to vote this November. CIRCLE estimates that roughly 8.5 million of them have entered the electorate since the 2024 presidential election (Stetkiewicz & Searles, 2026).

That is a remarkable amount of potential political power.

Nearly half of these eligible young voters are young people of color, including approximately 10.8 million Latino youth and 6.6 million Black youth. For someone who has spent a career thinking about education, race, citizenship, and inequality, these numbers are difficult to regard as merely electoral statistics. They represent a generation increasingly capable of affecting who governs and, potentially, what government is expected to do.

This is where my optimism about Gen Z collides with something happening right now in Texas.

It would be remiss of me not to mention Tarrant County.

The significance of Tarrant County to this story lies in the convergence of population growth, demographic change, political competitiveness, and access to the ballot. More than two million people live there, and some 1.3 million are registered to vote. 

For decades, Tarrant County was considered reliably Republican. That description fits less comfortably today. Democratic candidates have made significant gains there, and Democrat Taylor Rehmet's striking special-election victory earlier this year in a state Senate district in northern Tarrant County only added to the sense that this once-predictable Republican stronghold has become genuinely competitive (Lenzen, 2026).

Against that backdrop, what happened on September 1 deserves attention well beyond North Texas.

By a 3–2 vote along party lines, the Tarrant County Commissioners Court approved an Election Day plan containing 224 polling sites. During the 2022 midterms, the county had 316. In other words, a growing county with 1.3 million registered voters will go into this November's election with 92 fewer Election Day polling locations—nearly a 30 percent reduction. Early-voting locations will decline as well, from 50 to 47 (Armas & Jenkins, 2026; Lenzen, 2026).

County Judge Tim O'Hare and Commissioners Matt Krause and Manny

Ramirez voted for the plan. Commissioners Alisa Simmons and Roderick Miles Jr. opposed it.

There are competing accounts of what these cuts mean, and it is important to represent them accurately. Elections Administrator Clint Ludwig has described the reductions in terms of efficiency, site availability, statutory requirements, and accessibility issues. O'Hare has argued that the county will still provide sufficient opportunities to vote and that the plan exceeds statutory requirements. Some poll workers have also pointed to historically lower turnout in midterm elections (Armas & Jenkins, 2026).

Opponents see something quite different. Voting-rights advocates, Democratic commissioners, students, and many residents have called the reductions voter suppression, warning that fewer voting locations will mean longer travel, greater inconvenience, confusion, and additional burdens that will not be experienced equally across the county.

And there is an obvious tension here that deserves to be stated plainly. CBS Texas reported that O'Hare himself said higher voter turnout is expected in the upcoming election (Armas & Jenkins, 2026).

So why would a county anticipating higher turnout provide nearly one-third fewer Election Day polling places than it did during the last midterm election?

That is not an accusation of hidden motive. It is a legitimate public-policy question.

The locations at issue also matter. The University of Texas at Arlington's Maverick Activity Center will no longer serve as an Election Day polling place, and efforts to restore voting sites at UTA and Tarrant County College campuses were defeated 3–2. Residents have also expressed concerns about the loss of sites serving Black and Brown neighborhoods.

This is where Tarrant County connects directly to the Gen Z story for me.

A university polling site is more than a dot on an election administrator's map. For a student who may be voting in their first election, the difference between walking across campus after class and figuring out transportation to an unfamiliar off-campus site can matter. So can a work shift, an evening seminar, childcare responsibilities, not owning a car, or simply not knowing the geography of a county where one recently moved to attend college.

None of these obstacles formally takes away a person's right to vote. That is precisely why voting access needs to be understood in more than formal terms. A right can remain intact on paper while becoming considerably more burdensome to exercise.

And those burdens do not fall evenly.

CIRCLE's research is especially relevant here (Stetkiewicz & Searles, 2026). Young voters without college experience already participate at lower rates than their college-going counterparts, and Black and Latino youth have historically voted at lower rates than white youth. Nearly half of the 2026 youth electorate consists of young people of color. 

Source: CIRCLE















The practical architecture of voting—where sites are placed, how easy they are to reach, how much information young voters receive—therefore has equity consequences.

The intensity of the public response in Tarrant County tells us that residents understand what is at stake. More than 100 people addressed the Commissioners Court before the September 1 vote, most of them opposing the cuts, and representatives of some 30 civic groups rallied outside the courthouse. The meeting lasted more than eight hours. After the vote, people in the audience chanted “shame” (Lenzen, 2026).

One voice I particularly hope people will hear is that of Tarrant County resident Laney Hawes, who joined Jacob Soboroff on MS NOW following the commissioners' decision. 

The title of the segment captures her urgency: “‘PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE SAND’: Tarrant County voter after removal of 92 polling sites.” Hawes' larger point was that people outside Tarrant County should not assume this is someone else's problem (MS NOW, 2026).

I think she is right.

The issue before us is bigger than whether one agrees with the political choices Gen Z made in 2024—or which choices young voters make in 2026. Democracy is not meaningful only when citizens vote the way we hope they will.

For educators especially, there is an obligation here that I find difficult to escape. We spend years telling young people that their voices matter. We teach them about citizenship, civil rights, the Constitution, social movements, elections, and the responsibilities accompanying life in a democracy. We encourage them to become informed, question authority, debate ideas, participate in their communities, and vote.

When they decide to take us seriously, the answer cannot be to make participation harder.

That is what worries me about the juxtaposition between these two stories. On one side is a generation that may be becoming more politically engaged than many people realize. Young adults are reconsidering previous choices, questioning both political parties, worrying about affordability and their economic futures, and showing signs that they may turn out in significant numbers this November. 

On the other side, in one of the largest and most politically competitive counties in Texas, voters will find substantially fewer places to cast an Election Day ballot than they had four years ago.

Perhaps what we should be talking about is the troubling contradiction between urging young people to participate in democracy and simultaneously making that participation more difficult.

I remain hopeful about Gen Z—not because I expect young people to think as I do or vote as I might wish, but because I see questioning itself as a democratic virtue. They are watching us. They are watching what institutions do, not simply what leaders say. They are discovering that politics has consequences, and some are reconsidering assumptions formed only a few years ago.

Gen Alpha is watching, too.

What these generations eventually conclude about democracy will depend partly on what they see us doing with it.

If we tell them their voices matter, we should make sure there is a ballot box waiting when they arrive.

References

Armas, M., & Jenkins, S. E. (2026, September 1). Tarrant County commissioners vote to cut election polling sitesCBS Texashttps://www.channel3000.com/news/national-and-world-news/tarrant-county-commissioners-vote-to-cut-election-polling-sites/article_38d3ae73-e40c-5295-bb41-1ba1849f77ba.html

Feldstein, J., Leibowitz, C., & Walker, A. (2026, August 28). Gen Z regrets Trump support and is midterm motivated. The Hill. https://thehill.com/homenews/6056216-gen-z-trump-voter-regret-midterm-clipping/

Lenzen, C. (2026, September 1). Tarrant County removes 92 polling sites ahead of November election, The Texas Tribunehttps://www.texastribune.org/2026/09/01/tarrant-county-removes-polling-sites/

MS NOW. (2026, September 6). ‘PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE SAND’: Tarrant County voter after removal of 92 polling sites [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=552dYGlCoEQ

Smedley, A., & Hamberg, T. (2026, August 25). Anything but apathy: Young Americans digest and dissect politics differently. Navigator Research. https://navigatorresearch.org/anything-but-apathy-young-americans-digest-and-dissect-politics-differently/

Stetkiewicz, S., & Searles, S. (2026, May 20). 49 million young people will be eligible to vote in the 2026 midterms. Center for Information & Research on Civic Learning and Engagement. https://circle.tufts.edu/latest-research/49-million-young-people-will-be-eligible-vote-2026-midterms


Gen Z regrets Trump support and is midterm motivated

by Joshua Feldstein, Claire Leibowitz and Abigail Walker - 08/28/26 6:00 AM





Thirty-one percent of Generation Zers who voted for President Trump say they regret it, a recent Navigator poll reports.

Millennials followed at 28 percent, with 20 percent of Generation Xers and 10 percent of baby boomers saying they regret backing Trump, too. 

Continue reading here.