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Showing posts with label School of Civic Leadership. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School of Civic Leadership. Show all posts

Monday, August 24, 2026

Christian Nationalism Captures Higher Education, or, On Mandatorily Managing the Mystery of the Maker, Parts One and Two, by Joshua Gunn

Friends:

I want to call readers’ attention to this provocative and important two-part essay by UT-Austin Professor Joshua Gunn in The Higher Ed Advocate, both posted below. Densely documented with links to primary documents, investigative reporting, scholarship, and the institutions’ own materials, Gunn raises questions about the transformation of Texas higher education that deserve serious public scrutiny. 

In Part One, he examines changes in the language and governance of Texas public universities, drawing particular attention to terms appearing in official UT and UT System documents—academic “integrity,” “stewardship,” “solemn covenant,” “sacred space,” “spirit of grace,” and related formulations—and argues that their cumulative significance looks different when situated within the broader political ascendancy of Christian nationalism. The language itself is not in dispute: UT Austin’s Texas Statement on Academic Integrity describes the classroom as a “sacred space” and invokes a “spirit of grace,” while the UT System’s 2026 teaching policy describes teaching as a “solemn covenant” between faculty and students. 

In Part Two, Gunn moves from rhetoric to institutional development, examining the Civitas Institute and School of Civic Leadership and the political and financial forces surrounding their emergence. That history is significant: Civitas was initially established with $12 million in state and UT System funding following documented involvement by political leaders and conservative donors, the Regents created the School of Civic Leadership in 2023, and in 2025 committed another $100 million for its permanent home.

The public should be concerned not because conservative scholars, religious scholars, or people of faith have no place in public universities—they unquestionably do. Pluralism requires their presence, too. 

The concern arises when governmental power, university governance, major private wealth, and particular ideological or religious projects begin converging in ways that can determine which fields flourish, which departments disappear, which subjects become “controversial,” which forms of knowledge receive extraordinary institutional investment, and which become administratively vulnerable. That is a fundamentally different question from whether conservative ideas deserve a hearing. They do. 

The question is whether a public university remains a genuinely pluralistic institution when the state itself increasingly participates in deciding which ideas, histories, and intellectual traditions merit institutional protection and amplification.

Read together, Gunn’s essays therefore raise a larger and more consequential question of institutional capture: Who gets to determine what counts as legitimate knowledge, which histories universities teach, which questions professors may safely ask, and ultimately what kind of citizen public education is intended to produce? I encourage readers to read Part One and Part Two for themselves, follow Gunn’s many links, examine the underlying documents, and reach their own conclusions about what these developments mean for academic freedom, church-state boundaries, shared governance, and the democratic purposes of public education.

And there is one final connection we should not miss. The University of Texas System is governed by nine regents who are appointed by the governor and confirmed by the Texas Senate, serving staggered six-year terms. University governance can therefore seem distant from electoral politics, but it is not. Who Texans elect determines who appoints the people who govern our public universities—and who confirms those appointments. 

Gubernatorial and state Senate elections are higher-education elections, too. Elections matter, my friends.

-Angela Valenzuela

Sunday, April 19, 2026

If Civics Isn’t a Discipline, What Is? A Case for Policy Studies, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

If Civics Isn’t a Discipline, What Is? A Case for Policy Studies

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

April 19, 2026

By any measure, we are witnessing a rapid and politically charged expansion of “civics” across American higher education. State legislatures are mandating civics coursework. Trustees are authorizing new institutes. Philanthropic and ideological funding streams are accelerating their growth. 

At institutions like Ohio State University Board of Trustees, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, the University of Florida, and the University of Texas at Austin, these developments have sparked faculty resistance, raised concerns about academic freedom, and, increasingly, prompted deeper questions about governance itself.

Yet beneath the surface of these controversies—debates over intellectual diversity, curricular control, and ideological balance—lies a more generative question: What is civics, and can it meaningfully function as a discipline?

The answer matters because the stakes are not merely curricular. They are institutional. And they are political.

It is worth recalling that the effort to formalize civics as a field did not originate with the conservative actors now spearheading many of these initiatives. Nearly two decades ago—as mentioned by Messer-Kruse (2026) in a recently- published piece appearing in The Chronicle of Higher Educationscholars such as Elinor Ostrom, Jane Mansbridge, and Peter Levine advanced an ambitious vision for what they called “New Civic Politics.” 

Their aim was not simply to teach students how government works, but to cultivate what they described as “civic artisanship”—the skills required for collective problem-solving in a participatory democracy. Civics, in this formulation, was not a static body of knowledge. It was a dynamic practice rooted in action, design, and co-creation.

That vision gained traction during the Obama era, particularly through A Crucible Moment: College learning and democracy's future, a report led by McTighe Musil (2012) and the Association of American Colleges and Universities. The report called on colleges and universities to make civic learning and democratic engagement central to their educational mission. However importantly, it did not call for the creation of standalone civics departments. Instead, it envisioned civic learning as distributed across the curriculum—embedded in disciplines, not isolated from them.

Even then, critics on the right raised concerns that “New Civics” might blur disciplinary boundaries and undermine faculty autonomy. Organizations like the National Association of Scholars warned that such efforts could transform universities into sites of ideological training. What is striking, in retrospect, is how closely those earlier critiques mirror today’s concerns—only now they are voiced by faculty responding to the rapid proliferation of state-backed civics institutes.

What has changed is not simply who is advancing civics, but how it is being institutionalized.

Where earlier efforts emphasized integration and faculty governance, the current wave of civics initiatives often reflects a more centralized and externally driven model. Trustees, legislatures, and advocacy organizations are playing a decisive role in shaping curriculum, sometimes over the objections of faculty. 

At Ohio State, an “intellectual diversity center” was approved despite opposition from the faculty senate. At the University of North Carolina, transparency around the School of Civic Life and Leadership has been limited, with key findings withheld from public view. At the University of Florida, faculty members were investigated for allegedly interfering with the development of a new civics center—an action the faculty union characterized as a threat to academic freedom (Wang & Shanley, 2024).

At my own institution—and as documented by Price (2024)—the University of Texas at Austin has launched the School of Civic Leadership amid a broader conservative restructuring about which I have blogged that has raised urgent questions about shared governance, academic freedom, and who ultimately defines the civic mission of the university.

These developments are not isolated incidents but part of a broader reconfiguration of curricular governance—one reflected in policy and policy agendas, unfolding under sustained political pressure and increasingly visible to both faculty and the public.

What we are witnessing is not simply the addition of new programs, but a shift in who has authority over knowledge production and dissemination. In this context, civics risks becoming less a site of open inquiry and more an instrument through which particular ideologies and governance priorities are articulated, managed, and enforced (e.g., Wang & Shanley, 2024).

This raises a fundamental problem. When civics is defined externally—by political actors rather than scholarly communities—it risks becoming prescriptive rather than exploratory. It moves from asking questions to enforcing answers. And in doing so, it undermines the very democratic principles it claims to promote.

The difficulty of establishing civics as a discipline only deepens this concern.

Advocates often point to the urgency of civic education in a polarized society as justification for its elevation. But urgency does not make a discipline. To wit, there is no consensus on its core questions. 

  • Is it about the structure of government or the practice of collective action? 
  • Is it normative, prescribing how citizens should behave, or 
  • analytical, examining how they actually do? 

Nor is there agreement on method. Civics draws from political science, sociology, philosophy, history, and education, but lacks a distinctive methodological framework of its own.

In this sense, civics is better understood not as a discipline, but as a site of convergence—a space where multiple fields intersect around questions of governance, participation, and power; it is precisely here that policy studies emerges as the discipline we may not only need, but urgently need more of.

At its best, policy studies already does what civics aspires to do. It examines how decisions are made, implemented, and contested. It situates governance within historical and social contexts. It equips students to analyze power, discourse, and institutional behavior. And it connects theory to practice through engagement with real-world problems.

Crucially, policy studies also teaches students to see policy not merely as text, but as process—as something lived, negotiated, and often resisted. It brings into focus the dynamics of bureaucratic discretion, institutional drift, and the chilling effects of politicized oversight. In doing so, it offers a far more nuanced and critical form of civic education than what many current civics initiatives provide.

To put it plainly, policy studies does not just teach about democracy. It teaches students how to navigate, question, and reshape it.

If we are serious about strengthening civic education in higher education, the answer is not to create parallel structures that impose narrow definitions of civic knowledge. It is to invest in interdisciplinary policy programs that integrate civic learning across the curriculum, albeit in contexts where faculty enjoy autonomy, together with a support for pedagogies that connect students to communities and institutions in meaningful ways.

This approach does not reject civics. It reclaims it.

The current wave of civics initiatives reflects a genuine concern about the state of American democracy. But if civics is to contribute meaningfully to that project, it must resist becoming a tool of governance rather than a subject of inquiry. It cannot be reduced to a set of sanctioned viewpoints or scripted conversations. Nor can it be engineered through administrative fiat.

Civics, if it is to matter, must be practiced—messy, contested, and alive.

And for that, we do not need a new discipline. We need to take seriously the one we already have.

Reference

McTighe Musil, C. (2012, Feb. 15). A crucible moment: College learning and democracy's future. Association of American Colleges and Universities North Carolina Campus Compact Tenth Anniversary Conference. https://www.elon.edu/images/e-web/org/nccc/A%20Crucible%20Moment%20NCCC%2010th%20Anniversary%20FINAL.pdf

Messer-Kruse, T. (2026, April 10). Civics is a cause, not an academic discipline: Before it was trendy on the right, it was trendy on the left—and always incoherent. The Chronicle of Higher Educationhttps://www.chronicle.com/article/civics-is-a-cause-not-an-academic-discipline

Price, A. (2024, August 20). UT launches civics school amid conservative makeover. Axioshttps://www.axios.com/local/austin/2024/08/20/ut-civics-school-conservative-curriculum

Wang, T., & Shanley, G. (2024, July 8). UF ends investigation into whether six faculty “interfered” with Hamilton Center following pressure from union, major donor, The Independent Florida Alligatorhttps://www.alligator.org/article/2024/07/uf-ends-investigation-into-whether-six-faculty-interfered-with-hamilton-center-following-pressure-from-union-major-donor


Civics Is a Cause, Not an Academic Discipline
Before it was trendy on the right, it was trendy on the left — and always incoherent.

by Timothy Messer-Kruse | Chronicle of Higher Education | April 10, 2026



The rapid expansion of funding for “civics institutes,” along with the spreading of state mandates that civics be taught as a core subject in colleges, has ignited much controversy. Debates focus on whether civics should be prioritized above other vital subjects, whether civics education should be concentrated in autonomous centers on campus, and whether states should dictate how it should be taught. Ohio State University’s trustees approved the creation of an “intellectual diversity center” over the objections of OSU’s Faculty Senate. At the University of North Carolina flagship, the results of an independent investigation of its School of Civic Life and Leadership, recently chartered amid faculty protests, were kept secret. The University of Florida investigated six faculty members for having allegedly “interfered” with curricular development at its newly created Hamilton Center Classical and Civic Education, which the UF faculty union condemned as “institutional censorship or discipline to circumvent academic freedom.” Beyond these problems lies a more fundamental question: Can civics become a proper discipline?

Ironically, the impetus to make civics a discipline came from progressive scholars nearly 20 years ago, not the conservatives now founding civics institutes across the country. In 2007, a group of political theorists including Harry Boyte, Rogers Smith, Peter Levine, Jane Mansbridge, and Elinor Ostrom (who two years later would win the Nobel Prize in economics) gathered at the University of Maryland and drafted a manifesto for what they called “The New Civic Politics.” Their aspirations were not humble; they believed that “New Civics” would soon become “a discipline.”

For this group, civics was not simply teaching facts about the structure of government. It was the science of citizen action in a participatory democracy. As their manifesto explained, “Existing fields and departments simply did not have room for thinking about citizens as ‘co-creators’ of our institutions and culture.” The goal was to teach students the “design skills” and the “civic artisanship” required to make a better world. “We need,” they proclaimed, “a civic intellectual community, a discipline, a forum for debates, in which these issues will be central.”

Their arguments caught wind during the Obama administration. In 2012 the Department of Education contracted with the Association of American Colleges and Universities under the direction of its senior vice president, Caryn McTighe Musil, to produce a report, “A Crucible Moment,” calling on colleges and universities to “embrace civic learning and democratic engagement as an undisputed educational priority.” Such trumpeting of civics was hardly new, though the report’s insistence that academe had “an obligation to build a broader theory of knowledge about democracy and democratic principles in this contemporary age marked as it is by multiplicity and division” was new. Civics was no longer seen as merely a body of facts that citizens needed to know, but a field of exploration where new discoveries can be made.

“A Crucible Moment,” nevertheless, did not specifically call for the founding of new departments of civics. Rather, the prevailing idea at the time was that “understanding the depth, complexity, and competing versions of what ‘civics’ actually entails” could take place in a distributed manner, throughout institutions and across the curriculum. But the work of institutionalization was quietly proceeding.

The Good Society, an academic journal that had previously concerned itself mostly with the pedagogy of civics, became the intellectual center of the emerging discipline. Most of the drafters of “The New Civic Politics” manifesto were brought on to join the journal’s editorial board; the journal began devoting space to the question of disciplinary formation. As one board member, Karen Edward Soltan, explained, The Good Society needed to become “more self-conscious” in development of “civic science,” which was necessary to developing “a distinctive formulation of the nature of this discipline.”

Back in those innocent days, conservatives worried that the “New Civics” was nothing but a cover for turning universities into training grounds for progressive activists, and so they formulated a sophisticated argument for why civics should not be considered a discipline. Peter W. Wood and David Randall of the National Association of Scholars defended traditional departments against the encroachments of New Civics programs, which they argued undermined established curricula with “‘cocurricular activities,’ run by nonacademic administrators.” They accused New Civics proponents of aiming to “destroy disciplinary instruction and faculty autonomy,” the same thing critics today say as conservative-controlled civics institutes sprout up like spring daisies under a warm shower of state funding.

The right-wing seizure of state educational structures in President Trump’s first term, and the conservative blockage of the Civics Secures Democracy Act in the Biden era, which would have appropriated $1 billion for civics education, forced New Civics proponents to turtle rather than advance. By the time states began mandating civics curricula and the federal government began tying funding to rooting out “wokeness,” progressive plans for elevating civics into a discipline were in disarray.

Once progressives retreated from constructing a civics discipline, conservatives seized the initiative and, like hermit crabs, occupied their enemies’ homes. Pillars of the right like the American Enterprise Institute (AEI) took the lead, redefining civics as “civic thought.” In 2023, Benjamin Storey and Jenna Silber Storey, senior fellows at the AEI, authored “A Proposal for University-Level Civic Education,” noting that, although states were creating new civics institutes, academe had not yet recognized civic thought as an academic unit. To do so, civics requires the “articulation of a distinctive intellectual mission,” one that develops “a program of teaching and research with a particular scope of study and a characteristic approach, one that will train scholars in a demanding and recognizable discipline.”

The following year, the AEI partnered with the Johns Hopkins University to launch the Civic Thought Project, and in 2025 sponsored an invitation-only conference in Washington, D.C., to discuss the “Intellectual Foundations of Citizenship.” The event was packed with notable civics advocates from around the country, including Peter Levine, one of the signers of the New Civics manifesto. For the most part, however, there was less talk of the need to institutionalize civics as an academic discipline than there was of using the newly created civics institutes to give conservative voices a bigger megaphone on campus.

To the extent that the Civic Thought Project does promote the reformulation of civics as an intellectual discipline and not just a New Deal-style jobs program for conservatives, it assumes that once civics settles on a coherent set of “daunting, even paradoxical questions,” to quote the Storeys, it will have earned its place at the academic table. But there seems little agreement on what such elemental civics questions should be.

Recently some civics champions have boldly asserted that teaching the methods of deliberative democracy is essential to the entire academic enterprise. Proponents of civics institutes claim they are needed to arrest the coarsening of civil discourse and rebalance ideologically skewed campus cultures. Even assuming these are real problems, is there really much more to be investigated or discovered regarding the importance of listening and talking in turn? Do we really need a new field of inquiry to improve upon the timeworn principles universally taught at an age when pupils are given naps?

Most cheerleaders for the current state-mandated civics seem to assume that civics deserves a higher place in the university because of the supposed urgency of its knowledge. Students’ lack of basic understanding of how their government is structured and the ideals underlying it are often pointed to as the reason American society has become increasingly polarized and tribal. In the same year that Harvard’s Danielle Allen called for “a renewed focus on civic education” to combat “pernicious polarization,” Stanford University’s Debra Satz and Dan Edelstein editorialized in The New York Times that our society’s increasing “intolerance of ideas” in part “results from the failure of higher education to provide students with the kind of shared intellectual framework that we call civic education.” Both liberals and conservatives look to educators to solve the problem of hyperpartisanship by making better citizens.

But disciplines, as the philosopher Immanuel Kant showed, should not rest on the perceived contemporary importance of a problem. Disciplines rest on a body of related principles that purport to reveal something about the natural world or human meaning, as well as on a set of proven methods with which to test claims. The most glaring obstacle to civics’ path toward disciplinarity is that its potential community of scholars is deeply fractured over the question of which principles, and which methods, count.

For example, the Civic Thought Project’s conception of an appropriate subject for civic investigation is narrowly focused on the state and its “framework of laws.” This version of the discipline is crafted to exclude what conservatives have denounced as “action civics,” — a broader conception of popular involvement in governance that looks beyond the state to fostering direct action in community.

Karol Edward Soltan, an early advocate of elevating the field into a discipline, described civics in a way nearly opposite to the Civic Thought Project’s model. We should, she wrote, “consider the simple exercise of dropping the word ‘citizen’ entirely from the goal of this emerging field. Civic studies, we could say, aims to develop ideas and ways of thinking helpful to human beings in their capacity as co-creators of their worlds. I think that would be a good start.” Clearly, the scholars who have gathered under the umbrella of civics cannot agree on what is keeping them dry. To be a discipline, at minimum, there needs to be some agreement on what the boundaries of knowledge of this pursuit are. The deeply fractured state of the field is easily quantified. A check of the 228 faculty members who staff a dozen newly created civics institutes and centers against the 274 scholars who have contributed to The Good Society as either authors, editors, or members of the editorial board turns up not one name on both lists.  
Ultimately, civics is unlike all other pursuits that have graduated into disciplines. It is not itself a skill like reading, arithmetic, or foreign-language acquisition; it only borrows and applies the competencies it uses from other more fundamental fields. It is not a creative pursuit like painting, music, or poetry. It is not a codified branch of scientific research. Nor is it a field of structured disputation like philosophy or history. As long as its purpose is to ennoble rather than enlighten, civics will remain more of a crusade than a discipline.

Timothy Messer-Kruse
Timothy Messer-Kruse is a professor of cultural studies at Bowling Green State University and author of Slavery’s Fugitives and the Making of the United States Constitution (LSU Press, 2024)


Saturday, February 14, 2026

UT Austin’s Elimination of Mexican American and Latina/o Studies is a Betrayal of Texas, by Alfonso Ayala III

Students, Friends, and Colleagues:

Please read this Latinopia.com publication about what's playing out at UT right now. Alfonso is a doctoral student in the Mexican American & Latina/o Studies Department at UT-Austin.

-Angela Valenzuela


Mexican American & Latina/o Studies, The University of Texas at Austin
Latinopia.com | February 14, 2026

Many of you have now heard the deeply unsettling announcement from President Jim Davis that the Department of Mexican American and Latina/o Studies will no longer stand as an independent department. Instead, it will be folded into a newly-created Department of Social and Cultural Analysis within the College of Liberal Arts, alongside African and African Diaspora Studies, American Studies, and Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies.

Let’s call this what it is. When The University of Texas at Austin dissolves the independent status of its Mexican American and Latina/o Studies (MALS) Department under the banner of “reorganization,” it is not administrative housekeeping. It is not streamlining. It is not “efficiency.” It is the reinscription of an already White, Eurocentric intellectual hierarchy that has long determined which knowledges are foundational and which are expendable. Stripping the department of its autonomy recenters power in traditional disciplinary structures historically shaped by Anglo-European canons and governance norms. That is not neutral restructuring. It is the restoration of hegemonic order dressed up as reform.

And in Texas of all places.

Texas is nearly 40 percent Latino. In our public schools, Latino children are the majority. In many districts, they are the future of the workforce, the electorate, and the civic life of this state. To dismantle a department devoted to the rigorous study of Mexican American and Latina/o histories, literatures, politics, and lived realities in a state demographically defined by those communities is not simply shortsighted. It is disproportionate, irresponsible, and frankly indefensible.

This is not about “identity politics.” It is about knowledge. It is about acknowledging that to be successful in any field in Texas requires an understanding of the Latino population. It is about understanding that Mexican American and Latina/o Studies doesn’t just study Latinos; it creates new ways of knowing and understanding Latinos. It is about whether a flagship public university has the intellectual courage to study the people who built and continue to build this state.

A public university has a public mission. That mission is not to sanitize knowledge to appease political pressure. It is to cultivate understanding, inquiry, and democratic capacity.

Eliminating Mexican American and Latina/o Studies in Texas is like shutting down marine science in Galveston, agricultural research at Texas A&M, or energy studies in Houston — it is the willful abandonment of scholarship about the forces that define the state and shape its future. It is nothing short of institutionalized racism.

It is an abdication of relevance. It signals that the intellectual study of the largest ethnic population in the state is somehow optional—an expendable add-on rather than foundational scholarship. How offensive.

What does it say to Latino students—many of them first-generation college students—that their histories and ways of knowing, being, and doing in the world are too controversial to sustain? What does it say to faculty whose scholarship interrogates conquest, segregation, labor exploitation, bilingual education, and racial formation in this region? It says: your knowledge can exist, but only at the margins—never with the authority or autonomy afforded to dominant traditions.

And what does it say, that the decision to close the Department of Mexican American and Latina/o Studies is happening alongside the creation of programs like The School of Civic Leadership, The Ackerman Program on Jewish and Western Civilization, and majors in Strategy and Statecraft and Great Books?

This isn’t about efficiency or saving money or reducing redundancies; this is about determining whose knowledge matters, and whose is unnecessary. University leadership is committing epistemological violence by telling Latinos that in the great tradition of Western thought and reason, we do not belong; we have nothing to contribute. There is no place for us at the center of intellectual life—only as decorative additions to a canon we did not author and are not permitted to reshape.

In Texas, where immigration, voting rights, bilingual education, and curriculum wars are not abstract debates but live policy battlegrounds, eliminating a program uniquely equipped to analyze these issues is not neutral. It is the strategic sidelining of scholarship that interrogates power. It is the policing of racialized knowledge and intellectual sovereignty born out of struggle.

Universities do not hollow themselves out overnight. They do so incrementally—through “reorganizations,” “realignments,” and “efficiencies” that just happen to fall hardest on programs studying race, ethnicity, gender, and inequality. 

The notice from President Davis makes clear that consolidation is the first step. Then comes the “review of the curriculum of these areas to determine what majors, minors, and courses will be offered in the newly formed departments.” 

Earlier this year, the university did away with faculty senate committees, effectively stripping the only real check of power that existed on campus. Now, two men at the top—President Davis and Provost Inboden—are making hasty decisions to bow to the political pressures of the legislature, with precious little, if any, concern for the impact it will have on students, faculty, and the community.

Mexican American and Latino Studies is not a fringe specialization. Far from it. It is central to understanding the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo and its continuing relevance to our understanding of who we are as a state. It is central to understanding labor movements and agricultural economies, educational segregation, education policy, border governance and migration regimes, cultural production, language politics, and civic identity. Without the expansive and vital knowledge and perspectives produced through Mexican American and Latina/o Studies, any account of Texas and the country as a whole will be incomplete.

We don’t live in Maine or Alaska. This is Texas—a border state that shares 1,254 miles with Mexico, touching Tamaulipas, Nuevo León, Coahuila, and Chihuahua—the longest international border of any state in the nation. Our politics, our economy, our schools, our labor markets, our public health systems, and our culture are shaped daily by that reality. To behave as though Mexican American and Latina/o Studies is peripheral here is not just shortsighted; it is a willful denial of the very geography and history that define us.

It is staggering that Texas would retreat from sustaining a robust program in Mexican American and Latino Studies. Yet context is king. At the very moment this department is being dismantled, the School of Civic Leadership—widely understood as a signature initiative of Provost Inboden—proclaims its mission to prepare “a rising generation to advance human flourishing in our state and nation.” The contradiction is impossible to ignore. In the future The University of Texas at Austin is curating, Latinos are present as demographics—but absent as intellectual architects of the public good.

Demographic reality appears to matter less than political optics. Or, if the growing number of Latinas and Latinos in Texas does matter to the future of our state—it seems that our community of highly acclaimed scholars are not to be trusted with shaping that conversation.

To wit, we recently learned that the Civitas Institute, a conservative think tank at The University of Texas at Austin, is hosting an event on February 20th titled “America’s Latino Future.” Not a single scholar from the Latino Research Institute, the Center for Mexican American Studies, or the Department of Mexican American and Latina/o Studies was consulted or invited to participate in an area where we are unmistakably invested. To sideline the very scholars whose life’s work centers on Latino history, policy, and lived experience in a state that is nearly 40 percent Latino is not simply ironic. It is deeply offensive.

Historical memory teaches us that Mexican American and Latina/o Studies did not appear by dint of administrative grace. It was forged through decades of student walkouts, faculty organizing, and sustained community struggle. It was demanded in the face of indifference and defended against erasure. The existence of this Department was not a gift. It was a hard-won institutional transformation secured by those who refused to accept invisibility.

The official motto of The University of Texas at Austin is “what starts here changes the world.” The struggle that led to the creation of the Department of Mexican American and Latina/o Studies began on this campus over 50 years ago. The intellectual labor of those activists, scholars, and community members has indeed changed the world—reshaping scholarship, informing policy, transforming classrooms, and expanding the democratic imagination of this state. That legacy does not disappear because an administration chooses retrenchment over courage. We are the future. We will not be erased.


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Copyrighted by Alfonso Ayala III and is printed on Latinopia with his permission. Photo of jellyfish in the public domain. All other images copyrighted by Barrio Dog Productions Inc.