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Showing posts with label organized forgetting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label organized forgetting. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 02, 2026

Freedom, Not Abandonment: The Democratic Case for a Social Market Economy, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. June 2, 2026

Freedom, Not Abandonment: The Democratic Case for a Social Market Economy

by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

June 2, 2026

Link

I just finished listening to Clara E. Mattei’s Escape from Capitalism: An Intervention—a great Father’s Day gift, by the way, especially for anyone who enjoys a thoughtful challenge to economic common sense. 

Interestingly, the audiobook is currently available for free on the Barnes & Noble website, which feels delightfully “uncapitalistic.” I have only listened to the audiobook version, but as a non-economist, I found it remarkably accessible. One advantage of listening is that you can slow down the reading speed, giving yourself time to chew on concepts and findings that might otherwise pass by too quickly.

Mattei helps us see that capitalism is not only an economic system; it is a political order that defines freedom in a very narrow way. It tells us we are free when markets are free, even if people lack health care, housing, education, retirement security, or meaningful political voice. 

This is why the concept of a social market economy is useful. It offers a way to reject both market abandonment and caricatures of socialism by insisting on two democratic commitments at once: a social floor beneath everyone and limits on the corporate power that distorts public life. 

In this sense, the struggle for public goods and the struggle against corporate capture are not separate struggles. They are both struggles to make freedom real.

In the U.S., we are often taught to associate capitalism with liberty, opportunity, self-reliance, and prosperity. We are told that markets reward hard work, private enterprise creates abundance, and public goods are either unaffordable or inefficient. Yet for most people, our current economic order increasingly means debt, precarity, unaffordable health care, unaffordable housing, stagnant wages, weakened public schools, and the constant fear of falling behind.

Mattei’s intervention is powerful because she does not treat capitalism as neutral. Capitalism does not simply organize markets; it organizes people’s lives, fears, dependencies, and imaginations. It teaches us that unemployment is natural, poverty is personal failure, inflation must be solved by disciplining workers, and public institutions must always be cut, consolidated, or privatized in the name of fiscal responsibility.

Early in Escape from Capitalism, Mattei grounds this argument in the staggering scale of inequality that capitalism produces and then normalizes. She notes that in the United States, the wealth of the top 1 percent now rivals that of the bottom 90 percent, even as tens of millions of people continue to live in poverty (Mattei, 2026). This is not a small imbalance or temporary distortion. It is a social order in which wealth accumulates upward while insecurity spreads downward.

Mattei also turns our attention globally, showing how capitalism links poverty in one place to wealth accumulation elsewhere. In one vivid example, she discusses Mumbai’s Dharavi, one of the world’s largest informal settlements, where workers generate enormous economic value while much of that value flows away from them and into distant circuits of capital (Mattei, 2026; also see Behal, 2026). The point is not simply that inequality exists. The point is that inequality is organized through systems of ownership, labor, finance, and policy that make deprivation appear natural while making accumulation appear deserved.

This is one of Mattei’s most important insights: the economy is not a machine governed by natural laws. It is made and remade through policy, law, banking, taxation, budgeting, education, and ideology. When we are told, “there is no money,” “there is no alternative,” or “we have no choice,” we should pause. These are rarely neutral statements. More often, they are political decisions disguised as necessity.

Mattei helps us see that capitalism survives not only by extracting labor and wealth, but by making alternatives appear impossible. It narrows our sense of democracy. We may be allowed to vote, but we are not encouraged to ask whether democracy should extend into the economy, the workplace, the university, or the systems that determine whether people have health care, housing, education, food, clean water, and retirement security.

This narrowing of democracy is not only economic. It is political. The same system that concentrates wealth also allows concentrated wealth to shape elections, legislation, courts, universities, and public policy. 

This is where Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission matters so deeply (Supreme Court of the United States, 2010; Weiner, 2025).

If Mattei helps us see how concentrated wealth disciplines economic life,
Citizens United helps us see how concentrated wealth distorts democratic life. The 2010 Supreme Court decision did not simply expand “free speech” to include corporations. It expanded the political power of corporations, wealthy donors, and dark-money networks to influence public life while ordinary people are told that democracy still means one person, one vote.

The logic is painfully familiar. In the economy, corporations are treated as engines of freedom even when people are abandoned to debt, low wages, medical bankruptcy, and insecurity. In politics, corporations and wealthy interests are treated as “speakers” in the democratic process even when their money overwhelms the voices of ordinary citizens. In both cases, power disguises itself as freedom.

Photo Credit: AP Kelleher

That is why Hawaii’s recent effort to challenge the legacy of Citizens United is so important. In 2026, Hawaii enacted a first-of-its-kind law aimed at limiting corporate and dark-money influence in elections by redefining corporations as artificial entities created by the state, rather than natural persons entitled to the same political rights as human beings (Kelleher, 2026). 

I interject here to recommend two documentaries that make these dynamics vivid for students: Kimberly Reed’s Dark Money and CNN’s Deep in the Pockets of Texas. Dark Money examines the influence of untraceable corporate money on elections through the case of Montana and the real-life consequences of the Citizens United decision. 

Deep in the Pockets of Texas, reported by Ed Lavandera, brings the issue home by showing how a small number of wealthy donors have shaped politics in Texas, from school boards and city councils to the state legislature. Both films work especially well in the college classroom because they help students see that campaign finance is not an abstract legal issue; it is a struggle over who gets heard, whose interests count, and whether democracy can survive when money speaks louder than people.

The law is expected to face legal challenges, but its moral and democratic significance is already clear. Hawaii is asking a question the entire country should be asking: Why should entities created by law be allowed to dominate the very democracy that gives them legal existence?

Hawaii’s law matters because democracy cannot build or sustain a social market economy if corporations are permitted to dominate the political system that determines what counts as public policy, public investment, and the public good. Economic inequality becomes political inequality when corporations and billionaires can pour money into elections, shape public narratives, influence legislation, and punish dissent. 

We should not be surprised, then, when public schools are defunded, universities are disciplined, Ethnic Studies is attacked, labor is weakened, and privatization is presented as common sense. These are not isolated developments. They are part of a larger political economy in which concentrated wealth seeks to govern public life.

This is why Mattei’s work matters so deeply for those of us concerned with public education, higher education, Ethnic Studies, Mexican American Studies, gender studies, democracy, and the future of Texas. 

The attack on public goods is not separate from the attack on knowledge. The dismantling of diversity, equity, and inclusion offices; the consolidation or weakening of fields of study; the narrowing of curricula; and the privatization of education are all part of a broader political economy. They tell us that what belongs to the public must be reduced, managed, disciplined, or sold off.

Mattei gives us a language for naming this. Capitalism does not only exploit labor; it also narrows democracy. It tells us that education must serve the market rather than the public. It tells universities to behave like corporations, students to think of themselves as consumers, faculty to produce measurable outcomes rather than cultivate critical thought, and communities to treat their histories, languages, and ways of knowing as luxuries rather than foundations for democratic life.

This is precisely why Ethnic Studies is so threatening to authoritarian and market-driven forms of governance. Ethnic Studies teaches that people are not merely workers, consumers, taxpayers, or data points. It teaches that communities have histories, memories, struggles, epistemologies, and claims on the future. It teaches that democracy is not only about procedure; it is also about power, belonging, recognition, and repair.

Capitalism depends on organized forgetting. It asks us to forget colonization, slavery, segregation, land theft, labor exploitation, gendered violence, and the long histories of resistance that made democracy more real. It asks us to forget that public education itself emerged from struggle. It asks us to forget that the weekend, child labor laws, public schools, civil rights protections, bilingual education, voting rights, and workplace protections were not gifts from the wealthy. They were won by organized people.

At the same time, we need language that invites rather than alienates readers. In the United States, the word “socialism” often evokes fears of expropriation, state control, or the denial of individual differences and aspirations. Those associations are real, even when historically incomplete or politically exaggerated. For many readers, the word can shut down conversation before it begins.

So perhaps a more helpful way to speak is in terms of a social market economy: an economy that preserves individual freedom, entrepreneurship, private initiative, and personal ambition, but refuses to abandon people to economic ruin. A social market economy recognizes that freedom is hollow if losing a job, getting sick, aging, having a child, attending college, or needing housing can push a person or family into crisis.

A social market economy, understood through the lens of a caring economy, does not abolish markets or individuality; it insists that markets be regulated and oriented toward the human needs—health, education, housing, care, safety, and democratic voice—that make freedom real. 

This is not merely a semantic move; it is a conceptual shift that refuses both market fundamentalism and caricatures of socialism, opening political imagination beyond the false choice between market abandonment and state control, toward a democratic economic arrangement in which individual freedom is strengthened—not weakened—by a social floor beneath everyone.

This is where Amartya Sen, Nobel laureate in economics, helps complete the argument. If Mattei shows how capitalism narrows freedom and Citizens United shows how corporate power distorts democracy, Sen gives us a fuller language for what freedom actually requires. 

In Development as Freedom, Sen argues that genuine development should be measured not simply by income or market growth, but by the expansion of people’s real freedoms—their actual capabilities to live lives they have reason to value (Sen, 1999). His argument is important because he rejects the narrow idea that freedom is only “freedom from government.” Freedom also requires positive social conditions. A person who is formally “free” but lacks health care, schooling, food, housing, safety, or political voice is not meaningfully free.

That distinction matters. Public health care, public education, affordable housing, child care, and retirement security should not be dismissed as charity, dependency, or government overreach. They are collective investments in human capability. They expand the range of real choices available to people and make it possible for individuals and communities to participate more fully in economic, civic, cultural, and democratic life.

A society with a strong social floor does not eliminate individuality. It makes individuality more meaningful. People can take risks, start businesses, pursue education, care for family members, change jobs, create art, or speak politically when they are not living one emergency away from collapse. A welfare system that prevents people from hitting rock bottom economically is not the enemy of freedom. It is one of freedom’s preconditions.

But this requires more than social programs. It requires democracy protected from corporate capture. A social market economy cannot flourish if the political system itself is flooded with corporate and dark money. Public goods require public power. Public power requires democratic accountability. And democratic accountability requires that human beings—not corporations, artificial entities, or billionaire-funded networks—remain at the center of political life.

These questions are urgent in Texas. We are living through a moment in which public officials claim to defend freedom while constraining what can be taught, studied, named, or debated. They claim to protect taxpayers while redirecting public resources toward privatization. They claim to promote excellence while undermining the very programs that help historically excluded students see themselves as knowledge producers, leaders, and authors of the future.

When public institutions are weakened, communities lose democratic capacity. When curricula are narrowed, students lose historical memory. When universities are disciplined by political power, faculty lose academic freedom. When public goods are privatized, ordinary people lose access to the resources that make meaningful freedom possible. And when corporate money dominates elections, the people most harmed by these decisions have the least power to stop them.

For Texas, this is especially consequential. Our state’s future is diverse, multilingual, multiracial, and young. Yet our political leadership continues to legislate against that future by attacking DEI, Ethnic Studies, public education, voting rights, and democratic participation. These attacks are often justified in the language of efficiency, neutrality, excellence, or fiscal restraint. Mattei helps us understand that such language is not innocent. It is often the vocabulary through which power protects itself.

To escape capitalism, then, is not simply to imagine a distant alternative. It is to reclaim the present by insisting that health care, education, housing, retirement, clean water, public knowledge, and democratic participation are not mere commodities. They are conditions of collective life. Freedom is not being abandoned to the market. Freedom is not choosing among unaffordable options. Freedom is not debt. Freedom is not silence in the face of political intimidation. Freedom is the ability of people and communities to shape the conditions under which they live, learn, work, remember, and dream.

This is why the defense of Mexican American Studies, African American Studies, Women’s and Gender Studies, Indigenous Studies, and public education is not a narrow academic matter. It is part of a larger democratic struggle. These fields teach us to see the world historically, relationally, and structurally. They expose the myths that justify inequality. They remind students that the present was made—and therefore can be remade.

Mattei’s great contribution is to remind us that capitalism is not destiny. It is a political order, and political orders can be challenged. Hawaii’s challenge to Citizens United reminds us that corporate power is not destiny either. It, too, is a legal and political arrangement. It, too, can be contested.

The first step is intellectual: to stop mistaking domination for freedom, austerity for responsibility, privatization for innovation, market dependence for democracy, and corporate spending for speech. The next step is collective: to build institutions, movements, curricula, laws, and public policies that invest in people rather than discipline them.

That is the work before us. Not charity. Not nostalgia. Not reform around the edges of a system that produces abandonment by design.

The work is democratic reconstruction.

The work is reclaiming the public good.

The work is recovering freedom itself.


References

Behal, A. (2026, April 15). One of Asia’s richest men is grabbing sprawling slum and crushing its economy. Pulitzer Center. https://pulitzercenter.org/projects/one-asias-richest-men-grabbing-sprawling-slum-and-crushing-its-economy

Kelleher, J. S. (2026, May 14). New Hawaii law targets corporate influence in politics after Citizens United ruling. Associated Press. https://apnews.com/article/corporate-campaign-money-citizens-united-hawaii-71a28bc7e8f6e0279b31e999f222519a

Lavandera, E. (Reporter). (2022, June 24). Deep in the pockets of Texas [Television special]. CNN. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7B3PTuADIHQ

Mattei, C. E. (2026). Escape from capitalism: An intervention. Simon & Schuster.

Reed, K. (Director). (2018). Dark money [Film]. PBS Distribution; POV. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_Money_(film)

Sen, A. (1999). Development as freedom. Alfred A. Knopf.

Supreme Court of the United States (2010). Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, 558 U.S. 310. https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/558/310/

Weiner, D. I. (2025, January 29). Citizens United, explained, Brennan Center for Justice. https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/research-reports/citizens-united-explained

Wednesday, December 10, 2025

Invited Testimony of Dr. Angela Valenzuela Texas House Democratic Caucus Special Hearing on Free Speech, December 9, 2025

Friends,

Yesterday I had the honor of testifying before the Texas House Democratic Caucus Special Hearing on Free Speech. Because of time constraints, I delivered a much shorter version of my remarks. What follows is the full testimony I had prepared—one that more completely traces the constitutional, historical, and political stakes of this moment.

I should add that Attorney Richard Martinez, who, among others, litigated the Gonzalez v. Douglas case mentioned below, reviewed my testimony and gave it a thumbs up. 😊

I’m grateful to share it with you here, and I invite you to listen to the entire hearing at this link. The testimonies were outstanding.


-Angela Valenzuela


Invited Testimony of Dr. Angela Valenzuela

Texas House Democratic Caucus Special Hearing on Free Speech
Testimony by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.
December 9, 2025

Chair, Vice Chair, and Members of the Committee:

Thank you for the opportunity to speak today. My name is Angela Valenzuela, Professor of Educational Leadership and Policy at the University of Texas at Austin and Director of the Texas Center for Education Policy and a member of the National Academy of Education

I speak today as an educator, a scholar of public schooling and higher education, and as someone who has spent decades studying educational barriers facing minoritized youth.

In my remarks, I want to focus specifically on the prohibitions on the teaching of race and gender found in Senate Bill 37—and also embedded, in different form, in the Trump Administration’s Compact for Higher Education

I will first frame the moment we are living through, and then turn to the precedent-setting Gonzalez v. Douglas case in Arizona, which challenged the dismantling of the Mexican American Studies program in the Tucson Unified School District. That case, I would argue, has direct bearing on the constitutionality of SB 37 and similar prohibitions in higher education, particularly where there is evidence of discriminatory intent or viewpoint-based discrimination or censorship.

We are living through a coordinated backlash against DEI, Ethnic Studies, Women and Gender Studies, and public education itself. This moment is not about “protecting students” or “ending indoctrination,” as proponents claim. It is about enforcing ignorance and preserving racial and gender hierarchies. At the highest level, it is about erasure and control, controlling the narrative and imposing limits to community self-awareness and empowerment.

That erasure extends beyond policy. It echoes across our shared cultural memory—shaping what is preserved, what is honored, and what is pushed into oblivion. The attacks on Ethnic Studies, the banning of books, the silencing of educators who dare to speak truth—all reflect a calculated project to reorder memory itself. 

The troubling intent is not simply to stifle dissent, but to render entire histories incomprehensible to generations yet to come. In this context, ignorance is not an accident; it is carefully manufactured, fortified, and deployed to uphold the existing order—not least by preserving the incumbencies of those in power, as the recent fight over mid-decade redistricting makes clear.

The constitutional lessons from Arizona are not abstract. They map directly onto the policies Texas has now enacted.

In Texas, Senate Bill 17 prohibits DEI offices and programming in public universities. Senate Bill 37 eviscerates faculty governance across the entire higher education system, replacing longstanding traditions of faculty oversight with politically appointed boards and administrators beholden to partisan interests. Together with earlier laws like Senate Bill 3, Texas’s anti–Critical Race Theory bill that constrains the teaching of race and history in K–12 schools, these laws form an interlocking architecture of repression (see Intercultural Development Research Association, 2021).

The effects are concrete. UT Austin alone suffered at least $47 million in cuts to research due to federal funding rollbacks—cuts that have damaged work across race, gender, immigration, public health, and mental health. Projects like Dr. Danielle Clealand’s research on Black Cuban immigrant histories are being erased (Valenzuela, 2025). 

This is epistemic violence pure and simple. It is a purge of inconvenient truths. And yet, even in this landscape of "organized forgetting"—or what I term in my own work, either "subtractive schooling," or the "politics of erasure," we still have the U.S. Constitution.

I want to turn now to an important precursor to our current moment: Arizona’s ARS § 15-112, the law used to dismantle Tucson’s Mexican American Studies program. That law prohibited courses that “promote resentment,” “are designed primarily for pupils of a particular ethnic group,” or “advocate ethnic solidarity.” These vague, ideologically charged provisions became the blueprint for today’s curriculum wars.

We now see unmistakable echoes of ARS § 15-112 in Texas.

Texas Senate Bill 3 uses nearly identical language in its ban on teaching concepts that might cause students to “feel discomfort, guilt, or psychological distress” because of race or sex—an interpretation so broad that it suppresses discussions of racism, structural inequity, and collective historical experience. Senate Bill 17 bans identity-based programs and affinity centers in higher education, mirroring Arizona’s prohibition on courses “designed primarily for pupils of a particular ethnic group.” And Senate Bill 37 continues this trajectory by restricting what can be taught in college classrooms about race, gender, and social identity—precisely the kinds of restrictions that were struck down in Gonzalez v. Douglas.

In other words, Texas has not adopted Arizona’s Ethnic Studies ban in one statute. It has adopted it in pieces, across multiple laws. The through-line from ARS § 15-112 to Texas policy is unmistakable: constrain what can be taught, surveil the curriculum for “divisive concepts,” eliminate identity-affirming programs, silence collective narratives, and enforce an atomized, decontextualized vision of the individual student. That is exactly the logic Arizona used, and it is exactly the logic Texas has now replicated.

Gonzalez v. Douglas

I had the honor of testifying in the Arce v. Douglas case—now formally known as Gonzalez v. Douglas. Teachers and students sued the Arizona Superintendent of Public Instruction and members of the Arizona State Board of Education after the elimination of the successful Mexican American Studies program in Tucson. The argument of "viewpoint diversity" was central to the case, but not in the distorted sense we hear today from conservatives who allege—without evidence—that their perspectives are excluded from the college curriculum.

Teachers and students argued that the state targeted their curriculum precisely because it foregrounded Mexican American perspectives, histories, and intellectual traditions (Cabrera et al., 2014). The entire effort was motivated by racial animus and a political agenda to "organize forgetting."

The federal court agreed, holding that Arizona had engaged in unconstitutional viewpoint discrimination motivated by hostility toward Mexican Americans (Gonzalez v. Douglas, 2017).

The court ruled that teachers have a right to teach, and students have a right to learn, a curriculum that reflects their experiences and intellectual traditions. Gonzalez v. Douglas stands as a precedent-setting case underscoring this point. 

While a state may legislate restrictions on teaching and research, the mere passage of a law does not guarantee its constitutional survival. As Gonzalez demonstrated, when a state suppresses particular perspectives or academic fields—especially those tied to the histories and identities of marginalized communities—it invites serious First Amendment scrutiny and is unlikely to prevail.

In summary, Senate Bill 37, like Arizona’s ARS § 15-112, is vulnerable to a First Amendment challenge because it targets specific viewpoints and identities for suppression.

Some day, Ethnic Studies courses will simply be called “a good education.”

Thank you for your time.

References

Cabrera, N. L., Milem, J. F., Jaquette, O., & Marx, R. W. (2014). Missing the (Student Achievement) Forest for All the (Political) Trees: Empiricism and the Mexican American Studies Controversy in Tucson: Empiricism and the Mexican American Studies Controversy in Tucson. American Educational Research Journal51(6), 1084-1118. https://doi.org/10.3102/0002831214553705

Gonzalez v. Douglas, 269 F. Supp. 3d 948 (D. Ariz. 2017). https://www.thefire.org/sites/default/files/2018/01/22133613/Gonzalez-v.-Douglas-Memorandum-of-Decision.pdf

Intercultural Development Research Association. (2021). What Texas’ classroom censorship law means for students & schools. IDRA. https://www.idra.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/02/What-Texas-Classroom-Censorship-Law-Means-for-Students-and-Schools-IDRA-2022.pdf

Valenzuela, A. (2025, May). UT loses $47M in research grants under Trump Administration; more than 60 projects cut: The ideological purge of public research [Blog post]. Educational Equity, Politics & Policy in Texas https://texasedequity.blogspot.com/2025/05/ut-loses-47m-in-research-grants-under.html

© 2025 Angela Valenzuela. All rights reserved.
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