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Showing posts with label Project 2025. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Project 2025. Show all posts

Thursday, October 30, 2025

The Courage to Imagine Anew: Milton's 'Paradise Lost' and the Defense of Higher Learning, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

The Courage to Imagine Anew: Milton's 'Paradise Lost' and the Defense of Higher Learning

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

October 29, 2025

In these uncertain times, I find myself returning to the classics—not for comfort, but for clarity. They remind me that turmoil is not new, that every age must wrestle with its own angels and demons. As an English literature major and Spanish minor, I learned to live among these voices of the past and to listen for the echoes of our present in their words.

John Milton’s Paradise Lost (1968) is one such companion. Written in the wake of England’s failed republican experiment—after the execution of King Charles I, through the brief, flickering hope of the Commonwealth and Protectorate, and on the threshold of the restoration of the Stuart monarchy—it speaks to the ache of disillusionment and the stubborn endurance of faith. An anguished Milton wrote in the ruins of a republic that had promised liberty but delivered repression.

The poem’s power lies not just in its Biblical scope but in its political imagination: a meditation on what happens when institutions of knowledge, justice, and conscience are corrupted by ambition and fear. Satan’s rebellion against Heaven becomes a haunting allegory for power unmoored from morality—a warning about how even noble ideals can be twisted into tyranny when pride replaces principle.

We are living through a similar unraveling. Across the United States, and acutely here in Texas, the assault on higher education feels like a slow-motion reenactment of Milton’s epic fall. Legislation like Senate Bill 17 and Senate Bill 37 strip universities of their moral and intellectual autonomy—erasing diversity, equity, and inclusion programs and eliminating faculty governance under the guise of “neutrality.” In truth, these policies are not about neutrality at all; they are about control. They mirror Satan’s own delusion in Paradise Lost: the belief that power justifies itself, that domination can masquerade as Divine order.

The recent waves of faculty dismissals in Texas, the silencing of critical inquiry, censorship campaigns, and the hollow rhetoric of “viewpoint diversity”—about which I have blogged (Valenzuela, 2025)—all echo Milton’s vision of a paradise undone by deceit. Yet Milton also reminds us that knowledge cannot be banished, nor truth extinguished; even in exile, the spirit of inquiry endures. It is in that spirit that we must resist—not with despair, but with the steadfast conviction that education itself is an act of freedom.

Our universities—once sanctuaries, however imperfect—for the free exchange of ideas are being recast as instruments of ideological conformity. Project 2025, with its blueprint for dismantling public institutions, bears the same logic as Milton’s fallen angels—an architecture of chaos disguised as reform, where destruction is framed as renewal and submission is sold as freedom.

And yet Paradise Lost does not end in despair, but in a quiet, hard-won grace—one that I encourage us to lean into. When Adam and Eve are expelled from Eden, they do not turn against one another or the world that has cast them out; instead, they walk hand in hand, “through Eden took their solitary way.” Their loss is real and profound, but so is their potential. Exile becomes not an ending, but the beginning of a new human story:

“Some natural tears they dropp’d, but wip’d them soon;
The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide:
They hand in hand with wand’ring steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way.”
 — Paradise Lost, Book XII

In that moment, Milton reminds us that exile can also be the beginning of resistance—that even as institutions crumble, new communities of conscience can rise. We, too, walk that road now. As scholars, educators, and citizens, our task is not only to lament the loss of paradise but to rebuild it—to reclaim the moral and intellectual commons that sustain democracy itself.

What is at stake in this moment is more than academic freedom—it is the survival of an educated democracy. Across states and systems, educators are rising to defend the university as a public good, not a partisan instrument. The broader defense of education is, at its heart, a defense of truth, inquiry, and the capacity for moral imagination. Like Milton, we must see beyond the ruins toward the possibility of renewal, for if paradise is lost through arrogance and deceit, it is restored through wisdom, solidarity, and an expansive vision of what a good and virtuous education can be.

In doing so, we walk in the footsteps of Milton—across centuries of struggle and renewal—and honor his enduring question: not whether paradise can be restored, but whether we have the courage to imagine it anew. For the record, whoever said a Humanities or Liberal Arts degree is esoteric—or that our Western literary canon is worthless? Hardly so, even as its exclusivity has remained an issue. It has always been about survival—about learning to think, to write, to question, and to dream our way through the darkness of despair toward the light of freedom.

In times such as these, when truth itself is politicized and education reduced to utility, the humanistic tradition reminds us that freedom begins in the mind—and that imagination, not ideology, is the truest measure of a free and open society.

References

Milton, J. (1968). Paradise lost & paradise regained, Signet.

Valenzuela, A. (2025, Aug. 26). The fight for higher education: A minority perspective on both the liberal University and President Michael Roth. Educational Equity, Politics & Policy in Texas.

Monday, October 20, 2025

The Shadow President: From the wholesale gutting of federal agencies to the ongoing government shutdown, Russell Vought has drawn the road map for Trump’s second term.

Friends,

Every empire has its architects. In this vein, I urge you to read Andy Kroll’s extraordinary investigative report in ProPublica co-published with The New Yorker titled “The Shadow President,” to grasp the blueprint currently driving the dismantling of our democracy.

Russell Vought isn’t just a budget man. He’s another so-called Christian who wields faith as a weapon while dismantling the very institutions meant to serve the public good. With echoes of Steve Bannon's strategy of "muzzle velocity,"the overzealous architect of a shock-and-awe campaign to hollow out the federal state, Vought has consolidated unmatched power within the Office of Management and Budget—engineering mass firings, freezing funds, and paralyzing entire agencies to advance an authoritarian vision of executive supremacy. This is governance by harm: deliberate chaos, funding clawbacks, and a calculated indifference to human suffering—from refugees and educators to scientists and the elderly.

As Kroll reveals, Vought’s hand also guides Project 2025, the sweeping plan devised by the far right to concentrate power in the presidency, purge the civil service, and impose a Christian nationalist order on public life. His approach amounts to policy as punishment—a campaign that treats human consequences as collateral damage in an ideological crusade. If Trump is the showman, Vought is the strategist—the man with the map, the machinery, and the will to use both.

— Angela Valenzuela

The Shadow President: 

From the wholesale gutting of federal agencies to the ongoing government shutdown, Russell Vought has drawn the road map for Trump’s second term. 

The Shadow President From the wholesale gutting of federal agencies to the ongoing government shutdown, Russell Vought has drawn the road map for Trump’s second term. Vought has consolidated power to an extent that insiders say they feel like “he is the commander in chief.” by Andy Kroll Oct. 17, 2025, 6 a.m. EDT

On the afternoon of Feb. 12, Russell Vought, the director of the White House Office of Management and Budget, summoned a small group of career staffers to the Eisenhower Executive Office Building for a meeting about foreign aid. A storm had dumped nearly 6 inches of snow on Washington, D.C. The rest of the federal government was running on a two-hour delay, but Vought had offered his team no such reprieve. As they filed into a second-floor conference room decorated with photos of past OMB directors, Vought took his seat at the center of a worn wooden table and laid his briefing materials out before him.


Vought, a bookish technocrat with an encyclopedic knowledge of the inner workings of the U.S. government, cuts an unusual figure in Trump’s inner circle of Fox News hosts and right-­wing influencers. He speaks in a flat, nasally monotone and, with his tortoiseshell glasses, standard-issue blue suits and corona of close-cropped hair, most resembles what he claims to despise: a federal bureaucrat. The Office of Management and Budget, like Vought himself, is little known outside the Beltway and poorly understood even among political insiders. What it lacks in cachet, however, it makes up for in the vast influence it wields across the government. Samuel Bagenstos, an OMB general counsel during the Biden administration, told me, “Every goddam thing in the executive branch goes through OMB.”


The OMB reviews all significant regulations proposed by individual agencies. It vets executive orders before the president signs them. It issues workforce policies for more than 2 million federal employees. Most notably, every penny appropriated by Congress is dispensed by the OMB, making the agency a potential choke point in a federal bureaucracy that currently spends about $7 trillion a year. Shalanda Young, Vought’s predecessor, told me, “If you’re OK with your name not being in the spotlight and just getting stuff done,” then directing the OMB “can be one of the most powerful jobs in D.C.”


During Donald Trump’s first term, Vought (whose name is pronounced “vote”) did more than perhaps anyone else to turn the president’s demands and personal grievances into government action. In 2019, after Congress refused to fund Trump’s border wall, Vought, then the acting director of the OMB, redirected billions of dollars in Department of Defense money to build it. Later that year, after the Trump White House pressured Ukraine’s government to investigate Joe Biden, who was running for president, Vought froze $214 million in security assistance for Ukraine. “The president loved Russ because he could count on him,” Mark Paoletta, who has served as the OMB general counsel in both Trump administrations, said at a conservative policy summit in 2022, according to a recording I obtained. “He wasn’t a showboat, and he was committed to doing what the president wanted to do.”


After the pro-Trump riots at the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, many Republicans, including top administration officials, disavowed the president. Vought remained loyal. He echoed Trump’s baseless claims about election fraud and publicly defended people who were arrested for their participation in the melee. During the Biden years, Vought labored to translate the lessons of Trump’s tumultuous first term into a more effective second presidency. He chaired the transition portion of Project 2025, a joint effort by a coalition of conservative groups to develop a road map for the next Republican administration, helping to draft some 350 executive orders, regulations and other plans to more fully empower the president. “Despite his best thinking and the ­aggressive things they tried in Trump One, nothing really stuck,” a former OMB branch chief who served under Vought during the first Trump administration told me. “Most administrations don’t get a four-year pause or have the chance to think about ‘Why isn’t this working?’” The former branch chief added, “Now he gets to come back and steamroll everyone.”


“The President loved Russ because he could count on him,” said OMB general counsel Mark Paoletta of Vought, seen at the microphone in the White House in 2019. Credit: Evan Vucci/AP Images

Monday, September 08, 2025

Texas Professors Are Leaving—But the Crisis Is Bigger (and Deeper) Than Texas, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

Texas Professors Are Leaving—But the Crisis Is Bigger (and Deeper) Than Texas

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.
September 8, 2025

A recent report in The Texas Tribune describes what many of us working in higher education in Texas already know in our hearts: faculty are demoralized and, increasingly, they are leaving. Based on survey data gathered by the American Association of University Professors (AAUP), more than one-quarter of professors in Texas say they have applied for academic positions elsewhere in the past two years, while another segment plan to do so soon. Nearly two-thirds indicated they would not recommend Texas as a place to pursue an academic career (Melhado, 2023). These numbers tell a story of deep unease—of contracts not renewed, of faculty afraid to speak openly in classrooms, of colleagues censoring themselves out of fear of retaliation.

Source: Texas Tribune, Credit Tamir Kalifa 

At the heart of this attrition is a direct assault on academic freedom, a principle that undergirds the very possibility of democratic life. State laws now ban diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives, and erode the stability of tenure, and faculty governance over such matters as curriculum and hiring. 

Legislation such as Senate Bill 37, which stripped power from faculty senates and centralized it in boards of regents appointed by political leaders, has undermined shared governance. This environment does more than stifle dissent; it recasts universities as instruments of control rather than spaces of inquiry.

Texas may be experiencing these dynamics most visibly, but the crisis is national—and increasingly global. Many U.S. scholars are not simply moving across state lines but are choosing to relocate abroad, seeking academic environments in Europe or Canada where intellectual freedom is more secure. Overlaying this migration is the threat of Project 2025, a sweeping policy blueprint crafted by conservative think tanks that aims to dismantle public institutions, including higher education, and remake them according to a narrow ideological vision. 

This project aligns with what has been called the Seven Mountains mandate, an agenda of religious nationalists who seek control over culture-shaping institutions—education foremost among them. Yes, read and understand this vitally important point.

This broader climate is fueled by the growth of Christian nationalism, a worldview that fuses political power with a narrow conception of religion. Surveys reveal its mainstream appeal: a majority of Republicans support declaring the U.S. a Christian nation, despite acknowledging its unconstitutionality; nearly half affirm the belief that God designated America as a promised land for European Christians. 

As McDaniel (2022) and others have noted, Christian nationalism is not merely a matter of private belief but a political project that seeks to restrict belonging to white, Christian, U.S.-born citizens, and to delegitimize pluralism. When viewed in this frame, Texas is not an outlier but part of a larger campaign to curtail higher education’s role as a site of critical thought and democratic practice.

I argue that these moves are part of what decolonial scholars call the colonial matrix of power—an effort to control knowledge, suppress difference, and reproduce racial and cultural hierarchies. Yet resistance is alive. Faculty who continue to mentor students of color, who teach histories others would erase, who publish research under difficult conditions, are engaging in what I and other scholars term "transformational resistance" (Valenzuela, Unda, & Bernal, 2025; also see Solórzano & Delgado Bernal, 2001).

This is not resistance for its own sake but resistance that builds alternatives grounded in care, justice, and community. Every classroom where students feel seen, every syllabus that centers marginalized voices, is part of this work.

Why I stay. I would be dishonest if I said the thought of leaving hasn’t crossed my mind. Colleagues often ask why I remain in Texas when the hostility toward higher education—and toward scholars of color in particular—runs so deeply. 

My answer is simple: I stay because my students and community root me here. Texas’ future is unfolding in our classrooms, in our neighborhoods, and in our community schools. Plus, we all pay taxes, don't we? To walk away would be easier, perhaps even safer, but staying allows me to live the very praxis I teach: to resist, to reimagine, and to plant seeds of justice where they are most endangered.

That does not mean we accept this reality as inevitable. It means we fight back. We refuse to concede our classrooms, our research, or our governance structures to political agendas. We form alliances with communities and insist that public universities exist to serve the people of Texas, not to advance the ambitions of politicians or religious ideologues. We keep teaching, writing, and testifying because silence would only deepen the culture of fear.

The AAUP survey offers a sobering warning, but it is also a call to action. Without resistance, fear becomes normalized. With resistance—embodied through solidarity, courage, and imagination—we preserve the possibility of universities that are truly democratic and inclusive.

Just last week, after class, a student told me, “Thank you for making space for voices like mine. I didn’t think college was for people like me until now.” In that moment, the rancor from the Capitol receded, and what remained was the truth of why I stay: because these students are Texas, because their futures are worth fighting for, and because each act of teaching becomes an act of resistance and hope.

References

Gutteridge, N. & Ford, A. (2025, Sept. 5). Professors want to leave Texas because of tense political climate, survey says, Texas Tribune. https://www.texastribune.org/2025/09/05/texas-faculty-university-political-climate-survey/

McDaniel, E. (2022, Nov. 6). Talk of 'Christian nationalism' is getting louder—but what does the term really mean? Chronicle of Higher Education. https://www.chron.com/politics/article/what-is-christian-nationalism-17563003.php

Melhado, W. (2023, September 7). Texas’ political environment driving faculty to leave, survey finds. Texas Tribunehttps://www.texastribune.org/2023/09/07/texas-higher-education-faculty-dei-tenure/

Solórzano, D. G., & Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Examining transformational resistance through a critical race and LatCrit theory framework: Chicana and Chicano students in an urban context, Urban Education, 36(3), 308–342.


Valenzuela, A., Unda, M. D. C., & Bernal, J. M. Disrupting Colonial Logics: Transformational Resistance Against SB 17 and the Dismantling of DEI in Texas Higher Education. https://www.ethnicstudiespedagogies.org/gallery/Vol3-Issue1-03_DisruptingColonial.pdf

Wednesday, September 03, 2025

A Stealth Threat to Academic Freedom That We Can Stop in Its Tracks: Ron DeSantis wants to use accreditation to control public higher ed.

Friends:

Most of us have seen the headline-grabbing attacks on higher education from Donald Trump and his allies—threats to strip funding, weaponized accusations of discrimination, and efforts to silence dissent. Those are serious enough. But beneath the surface lies a quieter, potentially more damaging move: reshaping the system of accreditation that governs colleges and universities.

Accreditation might sound bureaucratic, but it is what allows institutions to access federal funds. It also safeguards faculty rights, academic freedom, and shared governance by requiring policies that ensure faculty participation in decision-making. Without these standards, universities become far more vulnerable to political interference.

Enter Florida Governor Ron DeSantis. Along with allies in other states, he has spearheaded the creation of the Commission of Public Higher Education (CPHE), a new accrediting body designed to place public higher education under partisan political control. Unlike long-standing independent accreditors, this group’s vague standards and “efficiency” rhetoric would strip away faculty protections while allowing administrations and politicians to consolidate power. Accreditation would become a weapon to punish disfavored programs and reward ideological loyalty.

This is not a distant possibility. CPHE already has a draft set of principles, a business plan, and state leaders lining up to participate. Federal recognition could come as soon as 2027, but schools may begin joining much sooner. If successful, this move would alter higher education governance for a generation, reducing institutions to state-run agencies with little independence, eroding both academic freedom and democracy itself.

The good news is that resistance is still possible. Faculty, students, and allies can pressure campus leaders to slow down adoption of CPHE, giving time for advocacy at the state and federal level. National lawmakers and advisory bodies can push back against CPHE’s approval process. As Matthew Boedy of the AAUP warns, this is a “fast-moving train”—but one that can be stopped if enough people recognize the stakes and act collectively.

For a deeper dive into why accreditation matters and how it is being weaponized, I strongly encourage readers to check out the Academic Freedom on the Line podcast episode, "Accreditation," featuring John Warner and Bob Shireman (June 6, 2025). It unpacks how accreditation has historically safeguarded faculty rights and why today’s threats demand urgent attention.

I agree that the strongest argument for not joining CPHE is that it would diminish the power of the presidency.

Accreditation has always been the guardrail that protects universities from becoming tools of political power. To let DeSantis and others seize it for partisan ends would be to surrender the very independence that makes higher education a pillar of democracy.

-Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.


A Stealth Threat to Academic Freedom That We Can Stop in Its TracksRon DeSantis wants to use accreditation to control public higher ed. 


JOHN WARNER |SEP 02, 2025



Donald Trump’s overt threats to higher education - stripping them of funding, making bogus accusations of discrimination - are headline news. These threats are real, severe, and must be resisted. But these are not the only current threats, and perhaps not even the most consequential threats long term. Executive actions can be reversed by a different executive.

But a changing of the governance and bureaucratic mechanisms that dictate the structures by which higher education institutions are expected to operate could have a literal generational effect on the rights of students, faculty, and staff working at colleges and universities.

The mechanism for enacting and cementing these changes is the system of accreditation. We issued an earlier, general warning about how this mechanism could be used to erase faculty rights in a podcast episode with Bob Shireman of The Century Foundation.


This week, Donald Trump issued yet another attack on institutional independence through a Department of Education letter declaring that Columbia University had violated the standards of accreditation and should be required to “establish a plan to come into compliance.”

The threats have moved well beyond the theoretical with an under-the-radar effort spearheaded by Florida Governor Ron DeSantis to create a new accrediting body, the “Commission of Public Higher Education,” which is specifically designed to put public higher education institutions across multiple states under the overt control of political partisans, with few (or any) allowances for faculty freedom or governance.

Matthew Boedy has been tracking and issuing warnings about this initiative, which has significant momentum, but can still be resisted. Previously, Boedy published a warning at the Academe blog, “The Time to Act Is Now,” and we figured we should use this platform to help spread the word of the threat and give people more information about how they can resist these attacks on academic freedom and our democratic society.

Matthew Boedy is the president of the Georgia conference of the AAUP. He is a professor at the University of North Georgia and the author of the new book The Seven Mountains Mandate: Exposing the Dangerous Plan to Christianize America and Destroy Democracy

John Warner: I think this situation is going to take a little bit of unpacking for people to appreciate its meaning and urgency. What are the origins of the Commission for Public Higher Education?

Matthew Boedy: The origins lie in the first Trump administration, when the Department of Education began proposing to simplify the accreditor review process. That slow-moving policy change was supercharged by Project 2025 and the executive order Trump signed in April. The order echoed language in the sweeping manifesto about the power of accreditation agencies. To kneecap that power, the order opened the door for state governments to start their own accreditors, or serve as accreditors themselves. The Commission for Public Higher Education is the fruit of that. In June, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, along with leaders of university systems in other southern states, announced the creation of the CPHE.

JW: Let’s back up a bit. My view is that accreditation is something faculty are aware of, but what we know tends to be narrow, focused on the specific demands of accreditors passed down by administrators as they do their work of satisfying the accreditation criteria. But what is the meaning of accreditation? How does accreditation impact the institution and the work and rights of faculty?

MB: Accreditation has an enormous impact. It allows a school access to federal funds. This is why the Department of Education has a process for assessing accreditation agencies - it doles out the reward for following its rules. The accreditation process includes making sure schools have the needed amount of faculty and policies that mandate some level of faculty involvement in decision-making, especially about academic topics. Accreditation standards also can include mandating policies on faculty evaluation and academic freedom. While faculty rights are often defined in state and campus policies, the demand for those policies comes from accreditation.

JW: And what is the structure of the system of accreditation? Who funds it? Where do the priorities that accreditors bring to institutions come from? Why are there even so many different accrediting bodies?

MB: Accreditation is run by independent, third-party organizations such as the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools or SACS. It is funded by the fees paid by the schools to which it offers accreditation. The principles and standards of accreditation are based on federal law and regulations. But they are also developed by the member institutions. The history of higher education accreditation was regional for decades - hence the SACS outline throughout the South. But that was erased in recent years and schools are now not limited to their regional accreditation. That may make it seem like there are a lot of agencies, but it merely means any school can choose from several regional agencies or create their own, as they have done in the South.

JW: So, as I understand it, what DeSantis is attempting is to establish a new accreditation agency that will significantly constrain faculty rights. What’s the mechanism? How will it work?

MB: The new accreditation group led by Florida uses the same mechanism as other agencies - a statement of accreditation principles, a board of directors, and an accreditation process. But this new group has argued that its completion is too burdensome to schools, forcing too much paperwork adhering to too many standards for too much money. Efficiency is their goal. This would constrain faculty rights because the vagueness and limited nature of fewer standards would give more power to administrations, both at the campus and state level. Secondly, the accreditation process through those standards has become weaponized to insert conservative ideology that could “punish universities whose faculty or academic programs they disapprove of, and to reward universities that promote their ideological preferences.”

JW: What I’m hearing is that this brand of accreditation would eliminate, as much as possible, any independent authority for the institution itself. College and university administrations would essentially be agents of the state itself, beholden to the ideology of the executive. If that’s right, it sounds pretty authoritarian to me.

MB: It’s why I call it a “state-run” accreditation system for a state-run higher education system. There are layers of influence here, but as we have seen in Florida, boards and governors have tremendous power, and they aim to expand that power.

JW: How far along are they? What is the timeline like, what hoops to they have to jump through, and what is the likelihood of success for that hoop jumping?

MB: The group’s business plan lays out an aggressive timeline to which they are keeping. While federal recognition may be two years away, the group already has a draft of accreditation principles it is shopping around for feedback, and some states like Georgia have already publicly named the person they want on the new group’s board. The creation of a board would be followed by the hiring of a chief executive. And then taking on its first school as a client. All those are planned to be completed by January. The federal approval process begins as soon as late 2027. That is based in part on showing the federal government that it has a legal accreditation process and has accredited schools.

JW: Let’s imagine a scenario where DeSantis gets what he’s after. What can we expect for institutions accredited by the Commission for Public Education?

MB: Let’s remind everyone that DeSantis has already completed much of his goals for higher education. And those laws passed in Florida began to start conflicts with its accreditor. This is why the CPHE was formed. Then imagine a new accreditation agency hand-picked by DeSantis and his allies in other states. This would effectively neuter the power of accreditation and allow schools to move faster and break more things. Closing programs, opening new ones, building new campuses, etc. All without a hefty accreditation review. And, of course, continuing to limit the role of faculty in decision-making. But Florida is not the only player in this arena. Federal lawmakers and Trump could not only end the Department of Education but move its accreditation approval functions to other agencies, effectively giving them little oversight. And if the state runs these new, freer agencies with the combination of new state laws like those in Florida, we have a totally different landscape.

JW: What power do we have to stop this before it gets further down the track? What is the approach to organizing, and then what actions should the organized be taking?

MB: This is a fast-moving train. While only one state, Florida, has officially voted to join the new group, others have already made moves to show they are in it. Stopping that official vote to join may be impossible. And because these states are weaponizing the independence of college systems - to make them free from ideology they don’t like - getting an audience with a Board of Governors or similar group for faculty may also be impossible. There could be pressure brought to bear on state lawmakers who have some say over university systems. But while not impossible, many of these lawmakers in the states who have joined to build the CPHE don’t like higher education for various reasons. One irony in this whole saga is that some states have passed laws mandating colleges change accreditors every five years. If your state has such a law, and has also said it is joining the new group, that presents an opportunity for advocacy.

While the CPHE is a Southern-focused group now, it wants to accredit schools across the nation. That calls for a national strategy. Federal lawmakers certainly could exert more pressure on the Department of Education to stop the approval process. There is also an outside advisory group at the federal level that opines on the application of new accreditation agencies. These are all places for advocacy. But for faculty, the quickest way may be to convince their campus leadership to slow roll the school becoming a client of the new group, giving time for the other avenues to work.

JW: What in your view is the best argument to make to that campus leadership? How do we convince them that such a move may break things that we want to preserve?

MB: I would make my case to campus leadership on self-interest. Presidents want to shape their institutions. This actually would take power away from them and move it up the ladder. And if they want to preserve their campus autonomy, if they want the politics to stop at the gate so they can serve all students better, this instead would flood their institution with politics.

The views expressed in this newsletter are those of individual contributors and not those of the American Association of University Professors (AAUP) or the AAUP’s Center for the Defense of Academic Freedom.

Thursday, August 28, 2025

From Chile to the Smithsonian: The Psychology of Threatened Domination and the Fear of the Supermajority that We Already Are

Good morning from Austin, Texas. I’m re-posting this reflection from 2017 because Duke University political scientist Nancy MacLean’s prophetic book, Democracy in Chains: The Deep History of the Radical Right's Stealth Plan for America, has never been more relevant than it is right now. If we lacked the words then, her research gives us a vocabulary for what’s happening to our country today.

MacLean identifies what she calls the “psychology of threatened domination”—the conviction that one’s liberty is somehow diminished when others gain full citizenship and exercise collective power to govern society. This mindset closely overlaps with zero-sum logics, where equality for others is perceived as a loss for oneself. She describes it as “a whole way of being in the world and seeing others. Assuming one’s right to dominate.”

This worldview, grounded in the writings of Nobel laureate James McGill Buchanan and carried forward by billionaire networks like Charles Koch’s, has always been more than about money. It is about a messianic cause, a stealth vision of government stripped to its bones, where the majority is permanently locked out of power.

We cannot forget that Buchanan’s project was not confined to the United States. In the mid-1970s, he single-handedly re-wrote Chile’s constitution under the Pinochet dictatorship, turning that nation into a testing ground for neoliberalism. The result was a “constitution of locks and bolts,” designed explicitly to keep the majority from exercising democratic will unless it achieved an almost impossible supermajority. This anti-democratic template remains at the heart of the radical right’s playbook today.

MacLean warned us:

“They’re doing a lot of things for strategic reasons and not being honest with the public about it… This is a messianic cause, with a vision of the good society and government that I think most of us would find terrifying, for the practical implications and impact that it will have on our lives.”

A powerful—if horrific—recounting of this violent chapter in Chilean history appears in the documentary The Pearl Button (El Botón de Nácar), which captures the brutality of that era and the lingering wounds Chileans are still struggling to crawl out from under.

Look around in 2025: Project 2025 laying out blueprints for dismantling federal agencies, state legislatures gutting DEI, book bans spreading like wildfire, and now former president Donald Trump reshaping the Smithsonian to erase histories that don’t fit the far right’s narrative. These are not isolated skirmishes. They are part of the same stealth plan MacLean revealed years ago.

The radical right fears the rise of a supermajority—a multiracial, multigenerational, justice-minded coalition that already exists. Their voter suppression, gerrymandering, and culture wars are desperate attempts to contain it.

The truth? We already are that supermajority. But we must act like it. We cannot afford to underestimate the elite, extremist right—or the messianic fervor that drives them.

And yet, there is a silver lining. What was once hidden in the fine print of policy or embedded in distant experiments like Chile’s constitution is now visible to all who care to see. This visibility is power: it awakens communities, spurs coalitions, and galvanizes a new generation to act. If authoritarian forces seek to dominate knowledge, history, and culture, then our charge is to preserve memory, build archives of resistance, and imagine anew the institutions we deserve. Out of crisis comes possibility—an opening to create educational and cultural spaces that reflect justice, dignity, and collective flourishing.

In short, the stealth plan is no longer stealth. It’s here. And what we choose to do in this moment will determine whether democracy survives for our children.

-Angela Valenzuela

JUNE 22, 2017 REBECCA ONION | SLATE
Photo illustration by Natalie Matthews-Ramo. Photos by MBisanz/WikimediaDechateau/WikimediaAtlas Network/Wikimedia, and Thinkstock

Nancy MacLean, author of an intellectual biography of James McGill Buchanan, explains how this little-known libertarian’s work is influencing modern-day politics. 
By Rebecca Onion 

When the Supreme Court decided, in the 1954 case of Brown vs. Board of Education, that segregated public schools were unconstitutional, Tennessee-born economist James McGill Buchanan was horrified. Over the course of the next few decades, the libertarian thinker found comfortable homes at a series of research universities and spent his time articulating a new grand vision of American society, a country in which government would be close to nonexistent, and would have no obligation to provide education—or health care, or old-age support, or food, or housing—to anyone. 

I spoke with MacLean about Buchanan’s intellectual evolution and its legacy today. We discussed whether it’s helpful or counterproductive to call the network of organizations funded by Charles Koch a “conspiracy,” the line of influence between Buchanan and what’s going on in MacLean’s home state of North Carolina, and that time Buchanan helped Chile’s dictator craft a profoundly undemocratic constitution. Our conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

So why is James Buchanan so unknown? He had a Nobel Prize; how did he manage to fly under the radar? 

He had a very different personality from somebody like Milton Friedman. I think of them as kind of a yin and yang. Friedman was very sunny, and Buchanan was kind of a darker figure. Friedman was always very anxious to be in the limelight, and Buchanan was not like that at all. He was very interested in making an impact over the long term and training other people, and he seemed to be content to talk to powerful people more than to talk to public audiences. His books were really written for other scholars, not so much the general public. 

Can you put him in relationship with other people, besides Friedman, who might be more familiar to us today? 

People might be familiar with the Mont Pelerin Society, the international invitation-only group that began in 1947 launched by Friedrich Hayek. That society included Hayek, Ludwig von Mises, Milton Friedman, Buchanan, ultimately Charles Koch (which I think not many people know!), and many others.

Friedman and Hayek put much more emphasis on making the case for free markets, whereas Buchanan’s distinctive mission was to make a case against government. … His basic idea is that people had been wrong to think of political actors as concerned with the common good or the public interest, when in fact, according to Buchanan’s way of looking at things, everyone should be understood as a self-interested actor seeking their own advantage. He said we should think of politicians, elected officials, as seeking their own self-interest in re-election. And that’s why they’ll make multiple costly promises to multiple constituencies, because they won’t have to pay for it. And he would say agency officials—say, an official at the EPA—would just keep trying to expand the agency, because that would expand their power and resources. 

Now there were other people who actually tested that empirically and found out that it didn’t hold, so it’s really a caricature of the political process, but it’s a caricature that’s become very, very widespread right now. 

You mentioned a few times in the book that Buchanan didn’t really do empirical research. So what was he writing from? 

He was also trained in game theory at the Rand Corporation, so he uses a lot of that. But basically he writes more like a social philosopher, someone studying the social contract. 

Did his ideas change over time? 

The core ideas kind of stayed the same. What did change over time was his own outlook. It became much darker over the years. His first big book in his field, which is called public choice economics, was titled The Calculus of Consent, and it came out in 1962 and was co-authored with Gordon Tullock. It was the work for which Buchanan was most recognized in his Nobel citation. In that work, he seemed to believe that somehow people of good will could come to something close to unanimity on the basic rules of how to govern our society, on things like taxation and government spending and so forth. 

And by the mid-1970s he concluded that that was impossible, and that there was no way that poor people would ever agree … there was no way that people who were not wealthy, who were not large property owners, would agree to the kind of rules he was proposing. So that was a very dark work. It was called The Limits of Liberty. He actually said in that work that the only hope might be despotism. 

And he went from writing that to advising the Pinochet junta in Chile on how to craft their constitution. This document was later called a “constitution of locks and bolts,” [and was designed] to make it so that the majority couldn’t make its will felt in the political system, unless it was a huge supermajority. 
So yeah, it’s pretty dark. 

Tell me more about the relationship between Koch and Buchanan. 

I think too many people on the left have really underestimated Koch’s intelligence and his drive, and also misunderstood his motives. There’s been brilliant work by journalists, really good digging on the money trail and the Koch operations, but much of that writing seems to assume that he is doing this just because it’s going to lower his tax bill or because he wants to evade regulations, personally. I think that really misgauges the man. He is deeply ideological and has been reading almost fanatically for a very long time. I see him as someone who’s quite messianic. He’s compared himself to Martin Luther and his effort being like the Protestant Reformation. When he invested in Buchanan’s center at George Mason University, he said he wanted to “unleash the kind of force that propelled Columbus.” 

This is not someone who’s just trying to lower his tax bill. He wants to bring in a totally new vision of society and government, that’s different from anything that exists anywhere in the world or has existed because he is so certain that he is right. I think it’s more chilling because it doesn’t correspond to the ideas we have about politics. 
Right, like he’s not trying to get a particular person elected. You mention several times Buchanan was very against that idea, that the point was to get a particular person elected. The point, for him, was to change the whole system. 

Right. You asked how the two men connected. I only have the documentary trail that I found. But from what I found, I believe that they first came in contact or first began to work together about 1969 or 1970, and that was in the context of the campus upheaval against the war in Vietnam, and for black studies, and so forth. Buchanan wrote a book about the campus unrest that applied his particular school of thought to it. Koch had an operation called the Center for Independent Education, and that center took Buchanan’s book and turned it into a kind of pamphlet that could be circulated more broadly. 

In 1970, Koch joined the Mont Pelerin Society. Once he got in, he began to advertise his many different organizations and efforts and try to recruit and get people to events and so forth, through Mont Pelerin. Buchanan helped with the founding of the Cato Institute and with various other intellectual enterprises that were close to Charles Koch’s heart, like this thing called the Institute for Humane Studies. 

And then Koch funded Buchanan’s center, as well as other projects, at George Mason University. One of Buchanan’s ideas that Koch liked was the concept of making a flurry of changes all at once so that people have a hard time opposing them. 
Yes, and in the same year that Koch invested all this money in George Mason, [economist] Tyler Cowen got a commission by the Institute for Humane Studies to produce this review of places where economic liberty has made big advances. Cowen advocates what he calls a “Big Bang.” 

Interestingly it’s that same phrase that gets used by Civitas, the Koch-affiliated organization in North Carolina, after they take over the state legislature here in 2011. I actually have to give the North Carolina Republican-led General Assembly some credit for this book because I was struggling through Buchanan’s ideas, trying to understand the implications, because he did write in a somewhat abstract manner. 

And then the General Assembly came in in North Carolina and just made it all so clear. I saw the practical measures being taken and was like, “Oh, this is what he’s talking about! That’s what this is!” I should have put them in the acknowledgements. 
I’d like to talk more about the way racism works in Buchanan’s intellectual project. You write in the conclusion to the book that this school of thought advocates “enlisting white supremacy to ensure capital supremacy.” Is it possible to disentangle those two? 

So this is a challenge for the left because some of our categories, I think, are not very supple, and are also driven by the political world in which we operate. So for example, as we try to think about what’s going on with these voter suppression measures, the only thing that’s actionable is racial discrimination. Right? And so people think of voter suppression efforts as being motivated by racism. These are these good old boys who hate black people and that’s why they’re doing this. 

I think too many people on the left have really underestimated Koch’s intelligence and his drive, and also misunderstood his motives. —Nancy MacLean 

I think actually what’s going on is that these people are extremely shrewd and calculating, and they understand that African Americans, because of their historical experience and their political savvy, understand politics and government better, in a lot of ways, than a lot of white Americans. And they are a threat to this project because they will not vote for it. So they want to keep them from the polls. 

Similarly, young people are leaning left now, and they don’t accept a lot of these core ideas that come from this project, so this project has been very determined to keep young people from the polls. Frankly, if they could keep women away, they would, too. Because they understand that women suffrage opened the way to greater government involvement in the economy, and greater social provision and regulation. 
We make a mistake when we think these are just reactionary prejudices, and we need to see them as shrewd calculations to keep people who would oppose this vision away from the polls. 

So it’s about power, money. 

Not just money. I think it’s also much more about this psychology of threatened domination. People who believe it will harm their liberty for other people to have full citizenship and be able to work together to govern society. And that somehow that goes much deeper than money to me. It’s hard to find the right words for it, but it’s a whole way of being in the world and seeing others. Assuming one’s right to dominate. 
Your book calls Buchanan’s ideas a “stealth plan.” How can we, on the left, avoid falling into the trap of conspiracy-theory thinking while trying to understand this movement? 

One of the challenges is that our language is not up to the threat that we’re facing. As a scholar, I understand the problem of conspiracy theories. I don’t want to be seen as promoting a conspiracy theory. Not least because this is not a conspiracy, by definition. A conspiracy involves illegality, and the people who are funding, and supporting and promoting this operation have extremely good lawyers and I think they actually do believe in the rule of law, and they are being, with the possible exemption of nonprofit tax law, scrupulously legal in what they are doing. 

They’re doing a lot of things for strategic reasons and not being honest with the public about it. —Nancy MacLean

So conspiracy is not a good word. But on the other hand, this is a vast and interconnected and not honest operation. They say these anodyne things about liberty—like the title of one book is Don’t Hurt People And Don’t Take Their Stuff! And that’s not what this is about. The reality is that they are gerrymandering with a vengeance, to a degree we’ve never seen before in our history; they’re practicing voter suppression in a way we’ve not seen since Reconstruction; they are smashing up labor unions under fake pretenses, not telling people that they actually do want to destroy workers’ ability to organize collectively ... I could go on and on. 

They’re doing a lot of things for strategic reasons and not being honest with the public about it. That suggests to me that we need a new vocabulary for grasping what we’re dealing with here. I guardedly used the term “fifth column” in the book, and you know, there’s problems with that term too, but at least it gets at the fact that these wealthy donors that Charles Koch has convened are deeply hostile to the model of government that has prevailed in the United States and in many other countries for a century. 

While I think we need all the great investigative work that’s being done to try to show us how these organizations that are being presented to the public as separate are actually coordinating together, I don’t think that just laying that out is enough. I think that what we need to convey to people is that this is a messianic cause, with a vision of the good society and government that I think most of us would find terrifying, for the practical implications and impact that it will have on our lives. 

We are at a crucial moment in our history, and we will not get another chance, by this cause’s own telling. They say again and again that this is going to be permanent, and they’re very close to victory. So I think we need to be really clear-eyed about understanding this and reaching out to one another without panic. 

The most important thing I want readers to take from this book is an understanding that the Koch network and all of these people are doing what they’re doing because they understand that their ideas make them a permanent minority. They cannot win if they are honest about what they’re doing. That’s why they’re doing things in the deceitful and frightening ways that they are. 

And that, I think, is a sign of great power for the majority of people, who I think are fundamentally decent, and agree on much more than we’re led to believe.

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*Update, June 22, 2017: This article has been updated to add MacLean's academic credentials. (Return.)




 Rebecca Onion 
Rebecca Onion is a Slate staff writer and the author of Innocent Experiments.

This radical vision has become the playbook for a network of people looking to override democracy in order to shift more money to the wealthiest few, historian and professor at Duke University Nancy MacLean argues in her new book, an intellectual biography of James Buchanan called Democracy in Chains: The Deep History of the Radical Right’s Stealth Plan for America.* Buchanan’s life story, she writes, is “the true origin story of today’s well-heeled radical right.”

Wednesday, January 01, 2025

On the Uses and Abuses of Identity Politics: The philosopher Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò on the academy, the elite, and the future of politics

Friends:

Happy New Year! Wishing all a peaceful and blessed 2025. I'm happy to introduce you to philosopher Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò, author of Elite Capture: How the Powerful Took Over Identity Politics (and Everything Else). In this Chronicle of Higher Education piece, journalist Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow interviews Philosophy professor Táíwò on identity politics.

The interview mentions where the phrase, "identity politics," originated. It emanates from a queer, Black feminist collective termed the "Combahee River Collective." I like how he defines identity politics, as being about...
"Who you are, where you stand in society, affects what you know, it affects what you want, it affects what you can do. Those are things worth self-consciously taking into account."
I refer you, as well, to an excellent Boston Review piece where Táíwò expresses his greatest concern about elites involving the (mis)use of identity politics:
"Identity politics is deployed by elites in the service of their own interests, rather than in the service of the vulnerable people they often claim to represent."

Both pieces ground their critique of identity politics in alignment with the intent behind the Combahee River Collective's use of the phrase. They viewed it as positive and desirable when marshaled in the context of coalitions to address common problems across difference. It was never about fostering group exclusivity where one identity group only works with others who look like, or identify with, them. 

In the Tuhus-Dubrow Chronicle interview, Táíwò suggests that virtuous political struggles focus on outcomes over process, meaning the attainment of concrete goals like, for example, forming a union. He then asks us to consider that "outcomes" can further include things like people in the struggle caring for each other more. I love this, however, it's confusing to me since I see caring, mutuality, and trustworthiness as optimally always both means and ends, instead of as either-or.

For Táíwò, elite capture is a kind of "system behavior," instead of a conspiracy. My only concern here is that any close reading of Nancy MacLean's Democracy in Chains, Jane Mayer's Dark Money: The Hidden History of the Billionaires Behind the Rise of the Radical Right, or, for that matter,
Project 2025: Mandate for Leadership, the Conservative Promisethat crystalizes the decades-long, neoliberal agenda investigated by MacLean and Mayer—we must consider that atop system dynamics are nefarious plans to de-democratize, corporatize, and privatize our institutions and society. 

Eyes wide open, my friends. These are mutually inclusive, right? There is a system with system behaviors happening in it, including systemic racism, classism, etc. together with the expression of elite preferences that cut across race and class "differences" among the elite. However, real politics are also always at play among and by elites (as well as non-elites) in the political and policy making arenas.

The interview is confusing to me in places, but is overall helpful in thinking about things like tokenism and paternalism to avoid in politics. 

To conclude, I have read and highly recommend Táíwò's excellent book, Elite Capture. Great for the college classroom.

-Angela Valenzuela


On the Uses and Abuses of Identity Politics: The philosopher Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò on the Academy, the elite, and the future of politics.




By Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow | Chronicle of Higher Education
MAY 11, 2022


In the past few years, the Georgetown University philosopher Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò has gained notice for his lucid, subtle writing on such subjects as identity politics, climate change, reparations, and more. He first garnered broad attention with a 2020 essay for the British magazine The Philosopher that explored the limitations of “epistemic deference”: that is, calls “to ‘listen to the most affected’ or ‘centre the most marginalized.’”

In practice, Táíwò wrote, such calls often mean passing the mic to someone like him, because he is Black — even though he is also a tenure-track professor who grew up among the highly educated Nigerian diaspora. Amplifying certain voices on the basis of group membership, he argued, could serve as a merely cosmetic change, leaving structural problems unaddressed. What’s more, compulsory deference is no way to forge authentic relationships. “The same tactics of deference that insulate us from criticism,” he wrote, “also insulate us from connection and transformation.”

Now, building on that essay as well as a related piece in Boston Review, Táíwò has published a short book: Elite Capture: How the Powerful Took Over Identity Politics (and Everything Else). Elite capture, he explains, is a concept that emerged from the study of developing countries. It initially referred to the tendency of the upper class to gain control over foreign aid; in other words, the rich get richer. But the concept has also come to encompass the ways that elites appropriate political projects and monopolize attention.

Elite capture, Táíwò says, is “not a conspiracy” but rather “a kind of system behavior.” Systems are a major theme of the book, a theme Táíwò develops by drawing on the philosophy of games. Another motif is his impatience with the symbolic gestures and efforts to avoid “complicity” that have come to take precedence, in his view, over actual political outcomes.

Elite Capture incorporates sociology, history, and folklore; Táíwò finds pertinent lessons in sources ranging from “The Emperor’s New Clothes” to the Cape Verdean independence movement. For all his focus on the traps systems set for us, he holds out hope that we can recognize those traps and escape them. “Despite all our social programming, we can just do things,” he writes. “We can do the thing that will be punished; we can ignore the potential reward, choose the smaller prize.”

I spoke with Táíwò recently about deference politics, the gamification of contemporary life, and how he sees elite capture playing out in higher education.

Early in the book, you distinguish between the original intent of identity politics and the ways that it’s been distorted. You write that the term was popularized by the 1977 manifesto of the Combahee River Collective, a queer, Black, feminist, socialist organization, and “it was supposed to be about fostering solidarity and collaboration.”

So [the cofounder] Barbara Smith says that when the Combahee River Collective was theorizing around this idea of identity politics, what they were talking about was a kind of right to start somewhere. A right to take your own experiences seriously when you’re thinking about your agendas, your actions, your priorities. Also a sort of political origin, a starting point. You could start off by thinking about your priorities and still end up in coalition with other people, working in concert with other people, and collaborating. And they in fact did that.

But some people have takfen up identity politics in ways that are anti-coalitional in various ways. I don’t think the anti-coalitional impulse is very promising, politically speaking.