Friday, November 01, 2024

The Crisis of the Neoliberal University and the Need for a Working Class Alternative

As the contradictions of universities organized for capitalist and imperialist interests become more clear, the new student and worker movement in higher education has the opportunity to clearly articulate and fight for the type of university we want: one that defends the interests of the working class and oppressed.

October 31, 2024
Source: Left Voice





This past year in the U.S., a new chapter in class struggle has been written. Students, many from the Palestinian diaspora, anti-Zionist Jewish people, leftists, and people of conscience of all stripes have stood up against the genocide in Gaza. They have built encampments and questioned universities that run like businesses with investments in Israel. They have faced off the repression of university administrators while unmasking the imperialist character of both the Democrats and Republicans in office who help to send the police to beat up students and workers.

Broader sectors of U.S. society have also witnessed the unprecedented curtailing of democratic rights and the rise of a 21st-century McCarthyist witch hunt. Led by the Far Right, these anti-democratic attacks are supported by the broader regime, targeting anyone who dares to speak out against the genocide in institutions that are technically supposed to be bastions of free speech and academic freedom. These attacks have led professors and community members to defend basic democratic rights as the student movement came under attack this past year.

These conflicts have erupted in a specific context: the neoliberalization of universities. For years, government officials and university administrators have drastically cut university budgets, resulting in layoffs, the elimination of entire departments, and the increased adjunctification of university professors. After years of passivity, academic workers have been fighting back against precarious conditions with increased unionization and strikes at universities.

Universities carry an important weight in U.S. society and the economy. After all, they are where over 18 million people study and 4 million people work. But on a deeper level, recent events have opened up debate and discussion over the role of universities — from the historic revitalization of a student movement that challenges imperialism, to the right-wing culture wars in which universities and schools have become ground zero for unprecedented draconian measures.

Erik Baker, an activist within the Harvard Academic Workers union and a professor at Harvard, recently elaborated on the delegitimization of U.S. universities. As he points out in his essay, universities were once the kind of institution that fostered postwar ideals, like democratic engagement and cultural enrichment. At the same time, he explains, universities and liberal arts education played a pivotal role in the ideological functioning of postwar capitalist society. But in the new asset-based economy, the aims of the liberal arts university are obsolete, from the point of view of large sectors of the capitalist class.

In this context, Baker explains, the university’s hegemonic functions for bourgeois society are less important. “The crude and ruthless, in Bourdieu’s words, seems to serve today’s elites just fine,” Baker writes. Indeed, the modern university is characterized by hyper-exploited and precarious academic workers, an increase in academic policing, and disciplinary measures that are cheerleaded by the bipartisan regime, and a curriculum that is too “woke” for the Right. On the Left, meanwhile, activists have rightfully begun to question a curriculum that is all too often linked to the oppressive norms of capitalism.

At the root of the exploitative, authoritarian, and ideological characteristics of the modern university is the fact that universities are ultimately dominated by the interests of the capitalist class. Institutions of higher education, especially the elite universities, reproduce the dominant ideology while producing science, research, and knowledge in the interests of the capitalist class. Further, through the purchase of bonds and investments in Zionism, fossil fuels, and the military-industrial complex, universities often directly contribute to and help perpetuate a system of capitalist exploitation. And, of course, many universities, including publicly funded state universities, have adopted a business-like model of operating that includes increased tuition, draconian austerity measures, and the hyperexploitation of workers in a tiered labor system.

As a result of the recent movement in solidarity with Palestine, the contradictions of universities under capitalism are becoming more clear. At the same time, tensions are deepening between college administrators, who are subservient to the interests of Wall Street and the bipartisan imperialist regime, and a new generation of students and university workers who are increasingly anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist.

As the traditional university model faces exhaustion, the new student and worker movement in higher education has the opportunity to clearly articulate and fight for the type of university we want: one that defends the interests of the working class and oppressed.

The struggle for free, public universities — that are organized by and for the working class and the oppressed, where there is academic freedom and freedom of expression, where Marxism is not censored, and where knowledge is put in service of workers and oppressed sectors, also implies fighting in the here and now for basic democratic rights and against the current attacks that limit our ability to fight.
The “Golden Age” of Higher Education under Capitalism

The landscape of higher education in the United States has undergone a profound transformation over the past century. Originally, universities served as elite institutions, accessible only to a privileged few, as historian Ellen Schrecker explains in her book The Lost Promise. After World War II, however, when the GI Bill expanded access to higher education for millions of veterans, universities began to be seen as integral to the pursuit of the American dream, and a “passport to the middle class” in the height of postwar prosperity. For the U.S. regime, this professionalized workforce was key to producing cadre for its project of economic expansion at home and abroad.

But this kind of education was not equally accessible to all. While many Black Americans served in World War II, the GI Bill exacerbated racial disparities in education. Under segregationist policies, most Southern colleges excluded Black students, while in the North, Black student enrollment was kept purposefully low. Historically Black Colleges received significantly less funding and could not admit all Black students.

The postwar education system was shaped by the Cold War, in which the strategic competition with the Soviet Union was at the center of the national political agenda. This competition required innovations in the realm of science and technology, as well as a newly educated workforce for the industrial era of the postwar boom. Eisenhower’s 1958 National Defense Education Act provided low-interest loans to students in defense-related fields of study. But it wasn’t just the sciences: language-area studies were also framed as a way to combat communist influence and culture, while also producing skilled and fluent employees for the burgeoning intelligence sector.

Universities were also on the forefront of McCarthyist attacks: “administering anti-communist loyalty oaths, banning politically controversial speakers, and, most regrettably, purging their ranks of politically tainted faculty members,” as Schrecker explains. From the late 1940s to early 1950s, over 100 academics were fired in a coordinated campaign led by the regime’s apparatuses, like the FBI. The state exerted influence over academia in very explicit ways — leading congressional witch hunts that threatened firings and social excommunications — but it also used the softer pressures of reputational damage, blocking research or professional advancements, and chilling free expression by faculty. In this way, the U.S. ensured that its universities would continue to serve the interests of imperialism during the Cold War.

The 1960s and 1970s marked another pivotal moment in the evolution of higher education. As the postwar compromise began to strain and crumble, the universities were swept up in the era’s social upheavals. Enrollment in universities nearly tripled during this time; mass universities emerged, with more heterogeneous student bodies. The trend toward including students of color in the university was strengthened with the passage of affirmative action programs in the 1960s. Black enrollment in college nearly doubled from 1960 to 1980.

An ideology developed around the idea that education is the solution to all social ills and that it can eradicate poverty by developing human beings into more valuable human capital. This is precisely the ideology that Samuel Bowles and Herbert Gintis criticize in Schooling in Capitalist America. But it is on this foundation that President Lyndon Johnson passed the so-called Great Society programs, which “saw the start of individualist, even consumerist, federal support for public higher education, which comes from tuition subsidies for students, not direct funding for universities,” as the authors of Lend and Rule argue.

Simultaneously, this era was marked by the emergence of a student movement that grew out of the civil rights movement, and became its most combative during the movement against the war in Vietnam. In many ways, this movement was set off by the massacre at Kent State University and, just 11 days later, the killings at Jackson State University. Activists of this period demanded a university that was more than a means to individual success, but was by and for the most oppressed sectors of society. They called for the curriculum to be revolutionized, along with the university’s undemocratic structures.

In response to the massive student uprising in the 1960s and 1970s, universities made concessions to the movement. While many of students’ most radical demands were denied — like open admission, democratization of the university, and the adoption of a radical curriculum related to issues of oppression — other major shifts did occur. For example, by 1972, Black studies programs existed in over 1,000 campuses, and according to a report called Higher Education and the Black American, Black studies filled “a standard, if insecure, niche in the curriculum.” Women’s studies departments sprang up all over the country as well, and universities were forced to diversify their courses and faculty.
The Neoliberal University

By the late 20th century, however, the higher-education landscape began to shift again, influenced by the rise of neoliberal ideology and the adoption of market principles into higher education. Neoliberalism emerged at the end of the 1970s as a response to a crisis in the postwar economic order. In the neoliberal epoch, capitalists managed to find limited but real mechanisms for accumulation by reopening markets to capital in China and in the former Soviet bloc. In addition to finding new sectors of the working class to exploit, the capitalists, particularly in imperialist countries, led a wave of attacks to discipline their own working classes and guarantee even more surplus value from workers in the context of a crisis of capitalist accumulation. This took the form of privatizations, attacks on workers’ rights, and austerity measures. Trickle-down economics and low tax rates for the wealthy meant a vast increase in income disparities and, increasingly, a debt-based economy.

Universities were not exempt from these new pressures, setting them on a course of transformation from the institutions for the public good, as they were once widely seen, to the austerity-battered, admin-heavy, overpriced degree mills we know today. One of the hallmarks of these kinds of universities is the shift from public to private funding sources and higher tuition that put the financial burden of attending a university on the student.

As Michael Fabricant and Stephen Brier explain in their book Austerity Blues, from 1990 to 2010, the real dollar value of per capita student funding per state at public institutions declined 2.3 percent. CUNY, the “People’s University,” saw a 40 percent drop in state funding per student from 1992 to 2012, and a 17 percent drop from 2018 to 2015 in real dollars.

Thanks to austerity measures and the lack of public funding, universities themselves have also taken on debt. As Lend and Rule highlights, long-term debt held by public institutions increased by 482 percent from 1989 to 2021. Their institutional debt creates a profit for banks and financial capital, leveraged by the promise to increase student tuition whenever needed. In this sense, public universities are, increasingly, a myth: they are not publicly funded by taxes but by debt, taken on by both the institution and the students.

Private universities are even more cozy with financial and corporate funders, growing their endowments through a proliferation of private equity investments. Elite universities like Brown have as much as 43 percent of its endowment allocated to a portfolio that includes investments in fossil fuel companies and industries linked to Zionist interests.

The links to private industry became even more pronounced under neoliberalism with legislation like the Bayh-Dole Act of 1980. This act incentivized universities to patent discoveries and profit from research. As a result, research agendas were increasingly shaped by corporate interests, aligning academic programs with the needs of industry rather than the needs of society.

Throughout most of the neoliberal period, university enrollment continued to increase. From 1980 to 2010 — the height of university enrollments — the number of enrolled college students went from 12 million to 21 million. Since 2010, university enrollment has dropped 11 percent, but it remains well above 1980 levels. “As enrollments increase,” Fabricant and Brier explain, “especially among students of color, an increasingly stratified hierarchy of separate and unequal tiers has grown within 4 year colleges and senior and community colleges.” This stratification means that the “value” of having a college degree has depreciated.

Working class and poor students of color disproportionately carry the burden of debt to attend college, a type of “predatory inclusion,” “a process where by members of a marginalized group are provided with access to a good, service or opportunity from which they have been historically excluded, but under conditions that jeopardized the benefits of that access.” In other words, “inclusion” offers only limited benefits for marginalized groups, but it provides significant benefits for the capitalist class, which profits off that inclusion.

Further, there is evidence that debt was used to discipline the student movement, especially in California, where then governor Ronald Reagan raised tuition at the UCs to punish students for their activism. He went on to impose this all over the country once he became president, doing so with bipartisan support. This is precisely what Milton Friedman, doyen of the Chicago school, had proposed just a few years before.

Another key aspect of the neoliberal university is that it relies on highly precarized adjunct labor. Previously, about three-quarters of postsecondary teachers worked on the tenure track, but as universities have expanded, they increasingly rely on adjunct faculty and graduate students — part-time instructors who typically receive lower wages and fewer benefits than their tenured counterparts. Most professors are no longer tenure tracked and have no hope for job security and higher wages. At public universities, adjuncts grew by more than 300 percent from 1975 to 2011; by 2014, they represented three-quarters of the workforce at public universities nationally.

Alongside the adjunctification of labor, administrative positions at colleges and universities grew 10 times faster than tenured-faculty positions, according to Department of Education data. This reflected an expansion of university bureaucracy as part of the university’s shifting focus to administrative efficiency and corporate-like governance. In other words, universities have become more bureaucratized as a way to siphon “power away from instructors and researchers,” as a recent article in the Atlantic noted.

The sciences at universities have increased their ties to the military-industrial complex, and the structure of grantmaking creates competition among coworkers, pitting professors and lab scientists against each other and often leading to the hyperexploitation of grad students working in labs.

But neoliberalism was more than just economic policies; it came along with an ideology that was, according to Perry Anderson, one of the most successful ideologies in the history of the world. Under this ideology, capitalism stood triumphant and without any alternatives. Universities played a central role in perpetuating this idea.

While the Democratic and Republican Parties were a duopoly of neoliberalism, the Republicans represented a reactionary neoliberalism that rejected the cultural shifts that resulted from the movements of the 1960s and 1970s; anti-feminist and anti-queer, it harkened back to “traditional family values.” On the other hand, the Democrats came to represent progressive neoliberalism. As Nancy Fraser explains, progressive neoliberalism is


an alliance of mainstream currents of new social movements (feminism, anti-racism, multiculturalism, and LGBTQ rights), on the one side, and high-end “symbolic” and service-based business sectors (Wall Street, Silicon Valley, and Hollywood), on the other. In this alliance, progressive forces are effectively joined with the forces of cognitive capitalism, especially financialization. However, unwittingly, the former lend their charisma to the latter. Ideals like diversity and empowerment, which could in principle serve different ends, now gloss policies that have devastated manufacturing and what were once middle-class lives. … Identifying “progress” with meritocracy instead of equality, these terms equated “emancipation” with the rise of a small elite of “talented” women, minorities, and gays in the winner-takes-all corporate hierarchy instead of with the latter’s abolition.

And the university was tasked with churning out a slightly more diverse elite to govern an increasingly unequal society. As Jodi Melamed argues in Represent and Destroy, “Knowledge about minoritized difference — especially racial and cultural difference — was made to work for post Keynesian social and economic policies. To this end, U.S. universities used their capacity to adapt and produce knowledges symptomatic of and productive for the new circumstances of the 1980s and 1990s.” In this context, as Malamed explains, “an essential function of the academy … was to manage minoritized difference — to run difference through its machinery of validation, certification and legibility to generate forms that augmented, enhanced and developed hegemony rather than disrupted it.” In other words, under neoliberalism, the university was made to justify the increasing race and class stratifications while incorporating students of color into the neoliberal university under the guise of “merit-based” admissions.

The university became a bastion of progressive neoliberalism, which is usually linked to the interests of the Democratic Party, since it feeds a pipeline of workers for the nonprofit industrial complex, supporters of Democratic politicians, and builds an ideology that connects progressive politics to voting for Democrats. It is no wonder that today, one of the biggest divides in politics is between college-educated people who vote Democrat and non-college-educated people (especially non-college-educated white people) who vote Republican. Other universities or even specific departments are bastions of the neoliberal, hawkish Republican Party, creating a steady stream of workers into the military-industrial complex as well as into the Republican Party. In both cases, however, students are taught to accept capitalism as the best way to organize the economy.

As a result, during the height of the neoliberal offensive, there was a proliferation of anti-Marxist ideas in the university, and they became essentially hegemonic even among more progressive sectors. As Terry Eagleton explains in The Illusions of Postmodernism, dominant ideologies of postmodernism, postcolonialism, and identity politics all in their own ways erased the working class as the strategic subject for overthrowing capitalism, denying the possibility, desirability, or general framework for such a goal. Marxism as a revolutionary weapon for class struggle was thrown away as anachronistic or dismissed as perpetuating the myth that it was class reductionist and economistic. Thus, the university acquired a haughty, “transgressive” veneer while upholding the capitalist system.

While the neoliberal university included more people in higher education than ever before in U.S. history, that inclusion did not mean equalizing the social hierarchy; rather, neoliberalism made the rich richer and the poor poorer while promoting the ideology of schools as the great equalizer. The neoliberal university made the university not only an instrument of hegemony for the capitalist class, but also a source of profit, whether by debt, investments, privatization, or adjunctification.
The Crisis of the Neoliberal University

The 2008 economic crisis opened up broader questioning of capitalism and its institutions, including the universities. This marked a crisis of neoliberalism more broadly and has expressed itself politically through a crisis of traditional parties and the emergence of left- and right-wing populisms. The crisis of progressive neoliberalism has also meant a crisis for the university, its bastion, whose administrations had promoted a type of neoliberal consensus, or “extreme center,” as Tariq Ali calls it. Now we can see more divisions both at the top and at the bottom within universities as well.

For example, both students and workers can see that universities’ former ideals are matched with the reality of significant debt for degrees, debt that may not provide a clear path to employment, or at best pitiful wages from adjunct labor that forces professors to live out of their cars. And as the revitalized student movement has shown, student activists now also face outright repression in the face of genocide.

The veil is being lifted even among broader sectors as universities face a crisis of prestige. As Barker notes, only 19 percent of Republicans expressed at least “quite a lot” of confidence in higher education — and for Democrats, it is down to 59 percent. Only 47 percent of college graduates had more than “some” confidence in the university.

As part of the broader crisis of neoliberalism, we’ve seen less ideological consensus when it comes to the commonsense ideas of neoliberalism and more polarization. For the Far Right, which views the disappointments of neoliberal capitalism as a problem of “cultural Marxism,” universities and schools have taken center stage for their reactionary attacks. In a speech to the National Conservatism Conference, J. D. Vance recently proclaimed, “The professors are the enemy.” These kinds of culture war attacks on universities were strengthened after the Black Lives Matter movement and have continued to do so amid the movement for Palestine. This has resulted in policies such as Florida governor Ron DeSantis’s attacks on LGBTQ studies, Black studies, and diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs.

Most recently, the movement for Palestine has profoundly challenged the neoliberal university — testing the limits of its “progressive” veneer. This has meant a McCarthyist attack on free speech at the university, impacting both student and worker protesters for Palestine. In fact Columbia University, the center of the university protests, came in last in annual college free speech rankings by Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression.

At the same time, the movement for Palestine is questioning many pillars of the neoliberal university: first and foremost university investments in Israel, but also cops on campus and, in some institutions, speaking about the need for free, public universities. Even before the movement for Palestine, which marked a significant leap in the radicalization of the U.S. student movement, we could see shifts in the ideological questioning of the status quo at universities with the outgrowth of the #MeToo movement in universities and a profound questioning of the rampant reproduction of patriarchal norms affecting both students and workers at universities.

In addition to the student movement, the labor movement in higher education has also been showing its potential to organize itself and go on the offensive. This was evidenced most recently by the UC workers strike and the CUNY rank and file assembly during the encampment movement. There was also the New School strike of 2022, which was the longest adjunct strike in U.S. history — during which students showed solidarity with workers and organized an occupation.

Alongside these actions, there has also been a movement to unionize at universities amid a general shift to a more favorable view of unions across the country. While the unionization rate has held steady or fallen in recent years, unionization rates at universities have skyrocketed. A recent report revealed a 133 percent increase in unionizations among graduate student employees in the U.S. since 2012.

Against this backdrop of growing tensions from the student and labor movement on one side and an increasingly active Far Right, which has the backing of sectors of capital, it’s clear that the neoliberal university is facing a crisis of sustainability. This is most evident in the recent ousting of Columbia president Minouche Shafik, who brutally repressed Columbia students, but not soon enough or rigorously enough for the Zionists on her board, who ousted her over the summer. Shafik’s resignation is a key example that the center cannot hold.

The convergence of rising costs, political attacks, working class and student activism, and the suppression of dissent points to the contradictions of the neoliberal university’s model, which is ultimately driven by the needs of capitalist greed and imperialist oppression. What is the alternative model of universities that can genuinely serve the interests of working class and oppressed people here and around the world?
Universities for the Working Class and Oppressed

As Bowles and Gintis have highlighted, schools are not only a space to create hegemony for the state, but also a space to create the rebels who will question it all. That is happening right before our eyes. The movement for Palestine opened a period of intensified crisis for the neoliberal university, which has meant the formation of a revitalized repressive apparatus at the university, and the erosion of some of the academic freedoms and democratic rights that were won out of the struggles of the 1960s and 1970s. The bipartisan regime, hand in hand with the university bureaucracy, is seeking to impose a new relation of force at the university.

It is essential that the Palestine movement and our unions stand up to fight this wave of repression, defending our right to protest, to speak up in solidarity with Palestine, and for academic freedom. It is essential that more professors join the struggle, including tenured faculty, whose academic freedoms are also being curtailed. Our struggle for Palestine and for the university must be organized from the bottom, in democratic assemblies where university workers and students can discuss and decide next steps democratically. We are seeing mass assemblies that model this in the movement of student occupations in Argentina; this type of mass self-organization can strengthen the movement for Palestine and the movement for the universities we need and deserve. We should fight for the right to unionize workers across universities, for coordinating committees with the surrounding communities, and for student committees in solidarity with workers’ struggles across the country.

We have the potential to recover both the combative traditions of the student and labor movement in this country and harness the power of students and workers across the country, who are increasingly seeing the limits of universities under capitalism. In this framework, it is strategically key for the student movement to unite with workers, both inside and outside universities, especially in strategic sectors where workers have the power to shut down society. We are inspired by the great examples of student-worker unity throughout history, including the French May, when students and workers built barricades, formed a general strike, and were poised to overthrow the president of France. In that sense, student-worker unity is a strategic question in the fight for our common struggles as working class and oppressed people. We got a small taste of the possibility of a workers’ and peoples’ university during the encampments but we don’t want just the margins of the university, but the whole thing.

But, while we defend our democratic rights at the university, we also fight for a different kind of university — a university that does not serve capital but the working class and oppressed. One that does not function like a business, run by university presidents with exorbitant salaries, but that is run by and for students, faculty, staff, and the community.

Universities must be free and public for all; private universities must be nationalized and made public. All universities must be free and fully funded by progressive taxes on the wealthiest. Being a full-time student should not be a privilege for students who can afford it: it should be a right of all students, who should get stipends that are equivalent to a real living wage to dedicate their time to study so that no one drops out of college due to lack of funds.

This means an end to all student debt, including forgiveness of all student debt held by millions of people around the country. Having the chance to study and produce knowledge should be a right afforded to the entire working class; it should not be a profit-making enterprise for finance capital.

We must also fight against the precarization of university workers. We should demand an end to tiered labor, in which adjuncts teach the majority of classes but are not paid a living wage: every professor should have access to full-time employment and benefits.

We should demand that our universities be fully funded to meet the needs of students and researchers, restoring the dilapidated infrastructure at public universities such as CUNY, which pales in comparison to the facilities at expensive and private universities.

We should get the cops off campus. They do not keep us safe, but harass Black and Brown students, as well as all movements for social justice. We should demand that the military stop recruiting on our campuses, in the spirit of the Vietnam War protests that fought to kick the ROTC off campus. We should demand that our job fairs not bring in the military-industrial complex, recruiting our students to do violence in working class neighborhoods or in semicolonial countries. And we demand an end to outside military funding for science and research — science and research should be publicly funded, not by corporations and much less the military.

The presidents and higher-ups of our universities have shown themselves to be the enemies of students and faculty; they send police to beat and arrest students. They evict students within days of their arrival on campus. We must demand a different kind of university: one organized democratically at the rank and file, with democratic decision-making. Students and workers are the ones who make universities run and should be the ones who make decisions.

Rather than shape curriculum and research agendas around the needs of capitalist imperialism, we can leverage advances in technology, science, and culture at the service of the masses. This could even include leveraging the specialized knowledge of economic planning to be put into use for the planning of a socialist society. With a looming environmental crisis, wars around the world, and the potential for more health crises like the pandemic, we need a university that addresses the critical issues that affect the working class and oppressed people: science that addresses climate change, that researches trans medical issues, or that seeks to study and preserve indigenous languages.

In that spirit, a university of and for the working class and community would include students and faculty of color beyond tokenism as a justification for racist and imperialist policies. Rather, the university would address the issues affecting oppressed people: research centers that create solutions for the problems created by structural racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia. Against the right-wing distortions of Marxism, we demand a university that includes and studies leftist thought and ideas, posing the foundations and roots of the complete rot that is capitalism and strategies for the way out. For us, this is the study of Marx, as well as the contributions of Rosa Luxemburg, Lenin, Trotsky, Gramsci, MariƔtegui, C L R. James, and others. For us, Marxism presents not only a theory and explanation of class society but a practical guide for transforming society and liberating humanity.

Ultimately, universities should be institutions where we can reflect on how, together, we can build a society free from exploitation and oppression. But they are also important sites of struggle.

Amid a revitalized student movement and reactivated labor movement in the heart of imperialism and in other countries around the world, students and workers have the opportunity to not only “interpret the world,” as Marx famously said, but also to “change it.”


Maryam Alaniz is a socialist journalist, activist and PhD student living in New York City. She is an editor for the international section of Left Voice. Follow her on Twitter: @MaryamAlaniz

Paulo Freire and the Enemies of Justice

October 30, 2024
Source: Wild Culture


Paul Freire mural by Luiz Carlos Cappellanon.

LONG READ


Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” – Nelson Mandela


Paulo Freire, the radical Brazilian educator, would have turned 103 on September 19, 2024. Freire was not merely an academic; he was a revolutionary, a fierce champion of the oppressed whose lifelong fight for economic, educational, and social justice has left an indelible mark on generations of teachers, students, and cultural workers worldwide. His seminal work, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, was written under the brutal political repression of 1960s Brazil, yet its message reverberates even louder today in the face of rising authoritarianism and the war on critical thought. Freire knew that education is never neutral — it is always a political act. It either serves to liberate or to domesticate, to empower or to subjugate.


In Brazil, Bolsonaro sought to smear Paulo’s name, discredit his legacy, and censor his books . . .

Born in 1921 in Recife, Brazil, Freire experienced poverty and inequality firsthand, shaping his lifelong commitment to the oppressed. A staunch advocate of liberation theology, he pioneered an emancipatory pedagogy rooted in critical literacy — a tool not just for understanding the world but for transforming it. Following the military coup in Brazil in 1964, Freire was imprisoned for 70 days before being exiled for nearly two decades. His return to Brazil in 1980 did not mark the end of his activism; until his death on May 2, 1997, Freire remained a voice for the marginalized and oppressed.

Paulo and I were close friends, working together from 1980 for fifteen years. I witnessed firsthand his unwavering belief that democratizing education is at the very core of political resistance. Today, as education comes under attack by neoliberal and authoritarian regimes worldwide, Freire’s ideas are more vital than ever. We saw this clearly when fascist president Jair Bolsonaro sought to smear Paulo’s name, discredit his legacy, and censor his books in Brazil — a testament to the enduring power of Freire’s vision.

RETHINKING 9/11

In these perilous times, Freire’s work is not just relevant — it is a radical call to arms. As fascism resurges globally and civic culture crumbles beneath the weight of manufactured ignorance, remembering Freire is not enough. We must reclaim his legacy as a rallying cry to resist and rebel. Freire understood that education and politics are inseparable; teaching critically is an act of defiance, a direct challenge to oppression. His pedagogy is not a sterile method but a living project of freedom, a force against oppression. Freire wasn’t just an intellectual — he was a revolutionary whose work offers both analysis and a pathway to liberation. He understood that people must be informed to act for justice, and that education, inherently political, empowers individuals to reflect, manage their lives, and engage critically in the struggle for power, agency, and a more just future. Freire’s message was clear: an informed and critically engaged populace is the greatest force against tyranny, and education must serve as the foundation for this transformative power.
Friere in the classroom. Photo: OutrasPalavras, Acervo O Globo.



Paulo was well aware that people had to be informed in order to act in the name of justice. He observed that education in the broadest sense was eminently political because it offered students the conditions for self-reflection, a self-managed life, and particular notions of critical agency. Education was central to politics because it was a struggle over power, agency, identity, contexts, theory, and a vision of the future. Paulo Freire claimed that informed citizens are essential to the pursuit of justice. For him, education was inherently political because it fostered self-reflection, autonomy, and critical agency. Education, as a battleground over power, identity, and the future, stood at the heart of societal struggles. Freire’s contribution to pedagogy is unmatched — he rejected the notion of education as mere training or neutral transmission of knowledge. Instead, he saw pedagogy as a political and moral practice that equips students to become critical citizens, deepening their engagement with democracy. Freire’s vision was radical because he knew that only an informed populace could act in the name of economic and justice.

Paulo fervently argued that the value of education, civic literacy, and critical pedagogy could be measured by how much it improved people’s lives, gave them a sense of hope, and pointed to a future that was more just and free of oppression and domination. He believed that there was no possibility for social change unless there was a change in peoples’ attitudes, consciousness, and how they live their lives. Paulo rightly argued that a critical education could teach young people, the oppressed, and others not to look away, to take risks in the name of a future of hope and possibility. His radical belief in education’s power wasn’t just conviction — it was a commitment to social change, grounded in the idea that identity, power, and values are inseparable from political and educational struggles. Freire understood that theory doesn’t come first — real struggles do. He argued that you start with the concrete problems people face in their everyday lives, and that theory serves as a tool to confront and solve those problems. Theory, for Freire, is not an abstract exercise; it’s a weapon for liberation, drawn from the very ground of lived experience.1

At this critical juncture, education is under siege by the forces of fascism. Right-wing politicians and authoritarian regimes are not merely attacking the classroom — they are waging an all-out war on critical education. They seek to ban books, erase history, and crush dissent. These forces understand, as Freire did, that whoever controls education holds the power to shape the future. That’s why the battle for education is inseparable from the larger struggle for democracy and social justice. Education is not simply a path to individual advancement — it is the foundation of collective liberation.
Freire charter school in Willington, Delaware. [o]

Freire’s pedagogy is a rallying cry against authoritarianism. He exposes the ways in which those in power seek to turn education into a weapon of oppression. In contrast, Freire teaches that education must be a practice of freedom—a dynamic space where students and educators engage in critical dialogue, question power structures, and dare to imagine a world beyond the chains of domination. His work compels us to see education not as passive consumption, but as an active, revolutionary process — one that involves critically reading both the word and the world and taking collective action to dismantle the conditions of oppression.

The rise of fascist politics across the globe has revealed the latest stage of gangster capitalism in all its ugliness, which include the death producing mechanisms of systemic astonishing inequality, deregulation, a culture of cruelty, White Christian nationalism, systemic racism, and an increasingly dangerous assault on the environment. It has also made visible an anti-intellectual culture that derides any notion of critical education, that is, an education that equips individuals to think critically, take risks, think outside of the box, engage in thoughtful dialogue, appropriate the lessons of history, and learn how to hold power accountable. At the same time, the claims of global capitalism have been undermined as a result of its economic failures, the emptiness of its promises of upward social mobility, and the horrors it has let loose upon, especially in the form of endless wars, massive poverty and staggering concentrations of wealth in the financial elite.

THE NECESSITY OF CRITICAL PEDAGOGY IN DARK TIMES

It is hard to imagine a more urgent moment for taking seriously Freire’s ongoing attempts to make education central to politics. At stake for Freire was the notion that education was a social concept rooted the goal of emancipation for all people. This is a pedagogy that calls us beyond ourselves, and engages the ethical imperative to care for others, dismantle structures of domination, and to become subjects rather than objects of history, politics, and power.

This was a political project infused with a language of critique and possibility while simultaneously addressing the notion that there is no democracy without knowledgeable and civically literate citizens. Such a language is necessary to enable the conditions to forge a collective international resistance among educators, youth, artists, and other cultural workers in defense of public goods. Such a movement is important to resist and overcome the tyrannical fascist nightmares that have descended upon the United States, Hungary, Turkey, Argentina, and several other countries plagued by the rise of right-wing populist movements. In an age of social isolation, information overflow, a culture of immediacy, consumer glut, and spectacularized violence, it is all the more crucial to take seriously the notion that a democracy cannot exist or be defended without civically literate, informed and critically engaged citizens.

Adapted from Seal & Smith, 2021. [o]

Education both in its symbolic and institutional forms has a central role to play in fighting the resurgence of anti-democratic cultures, mythic historical narratives, and the emerging ideologies of white supremacy and white nationalism. Moreover, as far-right extremists across the globe are disseminating toxic racist and ultra-nationalist images of the past, it is essential to reclaim education and critical pedagogy through the lens of historical consciousness and moral witnessing. This is especially true at a time when historical and social amnesia have become a national pastime matched only by the masculinization of the public sphere and the increasing normalization of a fascist politics that thrives on ignorance, fear, the suppression of dissent, and hate. Education as a form of cultural work extends far beyond the classroom and its pedagogical influence, though often imperceptible, is crucial to challenging and resisting the rise of fascist pedagogical formations and their rehabilitation of fascist principles and ideas.2

Cultural politics since the 1970s has turned toxic as ruling elites increasingly gained control of commanding cultural apparatuses turning them into pedagogical disimagination machines that serve the forces of ethical tranquilization by producing and legitimating endless degrading and humiliating images of the poor, immigrants, refugees, Muslims, and others considered excess, dismissed as wasted lives doomed to terminal exclusion. The geographies of moral and political decadence have become the organizing standard of the dream worlds of consumption, privatization, surveillance, and deregulation. Within this increasingly fascist landscape, public spheres are replaced by zones of social abandonment and thrive on the energies of the walking dead who are the embodiment of a culture of manufactured ignorance, cruelty, and misery.

Under a global gangster capitalism, the destruction of the public good is matched by a toxic merging of inequality, greed, and the nativist language of borders, walls, and camps. It is crucial for educators to remember that language is not simply an instrument of fear, violence, and intimidation, it is also a vehicle for critique, civic courage, resistance, and engaged and informed agency. We live at a time when the language of democracy has been pillaged, stripped of its promises and hopes.

Paulo was right in insisting that if right-wing populism and authoritarianism are to be defeated, there is a need to make education an organizing principle of politics and, in part, this can be done with a language, form of critical literacy, and pedagogy that exposes and unravels falsehoods, systems of oppression, and corrupt relations of power while making clear that an alternative future is possible. Language is a powerful tool in the search for truth and the condemnation of falsehoods and injustices. Moreover, it is through language that the history of fascism can be remembered and the lessons of the conditions that created the plague of genocide can provide the recognition that fascism does not reside solely in the past and that its traces are always dormant, even in the strongest democracies. Paulo was keenly aware of Primo Levi’s warning that “Every age has its own fascism, and we see the warning signs wherever the concentration of power denies citizens the possibility and the means of expressing and acting on their own free will.”


In the age of nascent fascism, it is not enough to connect education with the defense of reason, informed judgment, and critical consciousness — it must also be aligned with the power and potential of collective resistance.

James Baldwin was certainly right in issuing the stern warning in No Name in the Street that “Ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.” Thinking is now viewed as an act of stupidity, and thoughtlessness is considered a virtue. All traces of critical thought appear only at the margins of the culture. Ignorance is not innocent, especially when it labels thinking dangerous while exhibiting a disdain for truth, scientific evidence, and rational judgments. However, there is more at stake here than the production of a toxic form of illiteracy celebrated as common sense, the normalization of fake news, and the shrinking of political horizons. There is also the closing of the horizons of the political and pedagogical coupled with explicit expressions of cruelty and a “widely sanctioned ruthlessness.”3

Under such circumstances, there is a full-scale attack on thoughtful reasoning, empathy, collective resistance, and the compassionate imagination. As Toni Morrison has noted we live at a time when language is censored, reduced to a kind of narcotic narcissism, and cannot tolerate new or critical ideas. As a tool of domination, it becomes a dead language, stripped of its transformative potential. Instead of fostering critical thought, it erases history, promotes menace, subjugation, and is wielded as a practice of violence. Think of how language in support of Palestinian freedom has been censored, disabled, and hollowed out under the claim of being antisemitic.

THE SCHOOLS ARE FAILING: STANCE OF CRITICAL EDUCATORS

Given the current crisis of politics engulfed in a tsunami of disimagination machines, educators need a new political and pedagogical language for addressing the changing contexts and issues facing a world in which capital draws upon an unprecedented convergence of resources — financial, cultural, political, economic, scientific, military, and technological — to exercise powerful and diverse forms of control. If educators and others are to counter global capitalism’s increased ability to separate the traditional sphere of politics from the now transnational reach of power, it is crucial to develop educational approaches that reject a collapse of the distinction between market liberties and civil liberties, a market economy and a market society. Resistance does not begin with reforming capitalism but abolishing it. In this instance, critical pedagogy becomes a political and moral practice in the fight to revive civic literacy, civic culture, and a notion of shared citizenship. Politics loses its emancipatory possibilities if it cannot provide the educational conditions for enabling students and others to think critically, realize themselves as informed and engaged citizens willing to fight for social change in the name of democracy. There is no radical politics without a pedagogy capable of awakening consciousness, challenging common sense, and creating modes of analysis in which people discover a moment of recognition that enables them to rethink the conditions that shape their lives.

Freire was clear in arguing that as a rule, educators should do more than create the conditions for critical thinking and nourishing a sense of hope for their students. They also should assume the role of civic educators within broader social contexts and be willing to share their ideas with other educators and the wider public by making use of new media technologies.

Communicating to a variety of public audiences suggests using opportunities for writing, public talks, and media interviews offered by the radio, Internet, alternative magazines, and teaching young people and adults in alternative schools to name only a few. Capitalizing on their role as public intellectuals, faculty can speak to more general audiences in a language that is clear, accessible, and rigorous. More importantly, as teachers organize to assert both the importance of their role as citizen-educators and that of education in a democracy, they can forge new alliances and connections to develop social movements that include and expand beyond working with unions.
Freire (L) visiting Henry Giroux, 1990. [o]

In the current historical moment, it is all the more crucial to embrace critical pedagogy as a political and moral practice that cannot be removed from issues of power, assigned meanings, and definitions of the future. Education operates as a crucial site of power in the modern world. If teachers are truly concerned about safeguarding education, they will, as Paulo suggested have to take seriously how pedagogy functions on local and global levels. Critical pedagogy has an important role to play in both understanding and challenging how power, knowledge, and values are deployed, affirmed, and resisted within and outside of traditional discourses and cultural spheres. In a local context, critical pedagogy becomes an important theoretical tool for understanding the institutional conditions that place constraints on the production of knowledge, learning, academic labor, social relations, and democracy itself. Critical pedagogy also provides a discourse for engaging and challenging the construction of social hierarchies, identities, and ideologies as they traverse local and national borders. In addition, pedagogy as a form of production and critique offers a discourse of possibility — a way of providing students with the opportunity to link understanding to commitment, and social transformation to seeking the greatest possible justice.

SCHOLASTICIDE AS A STRUCTURAL AND IDEOLOGICAL

This suggests that one of the most serious challenges facing teachers, artists, journalists, writers, and other cultural workers is the task of developing a language, discourse and pedagogical practices that connect a critical reading of both the word and the world in ways that enhance the creative capacities of young people and provide the conditions for them to become critical agents. In taking up this project, educators and others should attempt to create the conditions that give students the opportunity to acquire the knowledge, values, and civic courage that enables them to struggle in order to make desolation and cynicism unconvincing and hope practical. Hope in this instance is educational, removed from the fantasy of an idealism that is unaware of the constraints facing the struggle for a radical democratic society. Educated hope is not a call to overlook the difficult conditions that shape both schools and the larger social order nor is it a blueprint removed from specific contexts and struggles. On the contrary, it is the precondition for imagining a future that does not replicate the nightmares of the present, for not making the present the future.

As Freire noted, educated hope at best is a form of active social hope that dignifies the labor of teachers, offers up critical knowledge linked to democratic social change, affirms shared responsibilities, and encourages teachers and students to recognize ambivalence and uncertainty as fundamental dimensions of learning. Such hope offers the possibility of thinking beyond the given. Without hope, even in dire times, there is no possibility for resistance, dissent, and struggle. Agency is the condition of struggle, and hope is the condition of agency. Hope expands the space of the possible and becomes a way of recognizing and naming the incomplete nature of the present.

For Freire, the merging of politics and pedagogy is rooted in the dream of a collective consciousness and imagination fueled by the struggle for new forms of individual and collective identity that affirm the value of the social, economic equality, the social contract, and democratic values and social relations. Democracy should be a way of thinking about education, one that thrives on connecting pedagogy to the practice of freedom, learning to ethics, and identity to the imperatives of social responsibility and the public good.4 For Paulo, education was not just a tool for defending democracy, it also enabled it. The fact remains that without hope there is no agency and without collective agents, there is no hope of resistance. In the age of nascent fascism, it is not enough to connect education with the defense of reason, informed judgment, and critical consciousness; it must also be aligned with the power and potential of collective resistance. We live in dangerous times. Consequently, there is an urgent need for more individuals, institutions and social movements to come together in the belief that the current fascist regimes of tyranny can be resisted, that alternative futures are possible and that acting on these beliefs through collective resistance will make radical change happen.
From Meaning Guide: Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed: A visual summary. [o]


At a time when democracy is under relentless assault, Paulo Freire’s work is not just necessary — it is a revolutionary imperative for survival. We must reclaim education as a radical act of resistance, a space to nurture critical consciousness, collective power, unyielding civic courage, and collective change. . We must confront and dismantle the authoritarian forces that seek to transform education into a weapon of domination, embracing instead Freire’s vision of education as an emancipatory force — one that ignites the oppressed to reshape their world and forge a future anchored in justice, radical equality, and genuine democracy. Moreover, we must call not for reform but for structural change. This is a call not to merely lessen the horrors of capitalism but to replace it with a form of democratic socialism, while recognizing that capitalism and democracy are not synonymous.

In the face of rising fascism, Freire’s pedagogy demands we see education for what it truly is: a fight for freedom. He showed us that education is either an instrument of liberation or a tool of tyranny. Most of all it must be a practice of freedom and a project of collective emancipation. In an age starved of vision, Freire offered a revolutionary pathway, insisting that education, critical pedagogy, and civic literacy must be bound to a fierce responsibility to resist the unspeakable and unthinkable.

IS THE RIGHT’S PUSH TO WHITEWASH HISTORY A PRECURSOR TO FASCISM?

Freire inspired educators and cultural workers to act with bold conviction, audacity, and the fierce courage needed to confront the forces that would drag us back into a dark past — a past defined by fear, terror, and submission. He taught us not only to learn from history but to transform it, to stand in defiance of oppression, and to commit ourselves wholly to the struggle for justice, liberation, and radical joy. Now, more than ever, this is the moment for all of us who care about education as a defender and enabler of critical education to embody the spirit Freire invoked. We must rise with the conviction, audacity, and courage that he ignited within us — confronting those who seek to chain us to a history of fear and submission — and instead, fearlessly carve out a future rooted in justice, equality, and collective emancipation.

Freire’s legacy is not just a memory; it is a revolutionary flame burning brightly in the heart of the call for individual and collective resistance. In this age of rising authoritarianism, we must expand our understanding of education beyond traditional boundaries and infantile notions of empiricism and overt repression. We must see education in every space — as an act of defiance, a tool for liberation, and a force for emancipation. If we are to build a truly democratic socialist society, every corner of culture must become a site of critical inquiry and resistance, where citizens are empowered to challenge oppression and reimagine a world built on justice, equity, and freedom. Freire’s fire is ours to keep alive, fuelling the struggle for a future where learning itself becomes an act of revolution. ≈ƧCindy Patton, “Refiguring Social Space,” in Linda Nicholson and Steven Seidman, eds. Social Postmodernism: Beyond Identity Politics (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995), p. 227.
See, for example, Jane Mayer, “The Making of the Fox News White House,” The New Yorker (March 4, 2019). Online.
Pankaj Mishra, “A Gandhian Stand Against the Culture of Cruelty,” The New York Review of Books, [May 22, 2018]. Online.
I take this up in Henry A. Giroux, Pedagogy of Resistance (London: Bloomsbury Books, 2022).


Henry A. Giroux

Henry Giroux (born 1943) is an internationally renowned writer and cultural critic, Professor Henry Giroux has authored, or co-authored over 65 books, written several hundred scholarly articles, delivered more than 250 public lectures, been a regular contributor to print, television, and radio news media outlets, and is one of the most cited Canadian academics working in any area of Humanities research. In 2002, he was named as one of the top fifty educational thinkers of the modern period in Fifty Modern Thinkers on Education: From Piaget to the Present as part of Routledge’s Key Guides Publication Series.

DIRECT @CTION

Housing Activists in Spain Occupy Vacant Bank-Owned Buildings and Halt Evictions

October 29, 2024
Source: Truthout


Image by Platform for those Affected by Mortgages and Capitalism

When I first arrived in Spain, a real estate agent told me to avoid Manresa, the working-class city outside of Barcelona where a friend of mine lived. “Don’t go there, it’s not very nice,” he said. “Go to Costa Brava [a vacation site up north] — instead.” Unperturbed, I took a train to Manresa the next day. After seeing hammer and sickle graffiti and anti-capitalist slogans as soon as I exited the station, I began to understand why a real estate agent may not feel comfortable in Manresa. I walked to the center of the city, through some windy, narrow streets and a charming plaza peppered with locals moseying around, to meet my friend at Ateneu La SĆØquia, a towering building that was once a nunnery but has been turned into a social center thanks to a group of activists who reclaimed the space by squatting in it.

Instead of nuns praying, I encountered a small group of activists debating whether they would stage a demonstration later that day against a new Catalan national police station. To their left was a blurb mounted on a wall introducing the social center and the 24 collectives operating out of the space. While Ateneu La SĆØquia is nonsectarian, it operates on agreed upon values of anti-capitalism, feminism, anti-racism, environmentalism, the right to self-determination and support for LGBTQ+ struggles. Each collective has its own meeting room in the gigantic, multistory building, and there is also an assembly hall, a posh-looking yoga studio, a playroom for kids, a sunny arts studio, an LGBTQ+ room, a spacious patio with murals of Angela Davis and many rooms under construction.

One of the collectives is the Platform for those Affected by Mortgages and Capitalism (PAHC), an organization focused on local housing-related struggles in Manresa as part of the national Platform for those Affected by Mortgages (PAH) network. The PAH formed in Barcelona in 2009, but gained new relevance and popularity after 15M, a plaza occupation movement that began on May 15, 2011, in response to the government’s austerity policies and bank bailouts. Thousands of people lost their jobs, were unable to pay their mortgages, faced eviction and even owed money to the banks because their apartments were worth very little.

“We started as a group of people who self-organized around the loans conflict, but it evolved into a full housing rights organization,” Zalo Lorza Planes, my friend and an organizer with PHAC, told me. “Now we have more cases of people occupying buildings rather than dealing with loans.”

PAHC holds weekly general assemblies on Sundays at La SĆØquia where they introduce the organization and its goals to new attendees, make consensus-based decisions together and discuss strategies. They often hold another weekly assembly to discuss specific issues in more depth, such as conflict resolution and group dynamics, in addition to an annual recap assembly at the end of July, and another in September to plan the year ahead. And some members of PAHC will be joining the Second Congress of Housing Rights alongside delegates from other organizations across Catalonia next February, where they hope to establish a regional revolutionary manifesto and platform.

These assemblies lay the groundwork for strategic action to meet people’s material needs. For example, PAHC has helped Moroccan migrants and others occupy nine vacant bank-owned buildings in Manresa, according to Planes. The city government in Manresa typically does not provide migrants with housing, and sometimes even refers them to PAHC for assistance.

Pablo Ruiz, a longtime organizer, lives in one of the nine squats alongside Moroccan migrants. He says their building was built in 2007 and was empty for about 15 years before they occupied it in 2023. Living there allows him to refrain from working a salaried job and it also bridges the gap between politicized organizers and those who enter the movement primarily out of necessity. “Having someone speaking the native language living in the squats makes it easier to negotiate for migrants’ housing rights,” he said. “They are abused more often by police and the administration because of the language barrier.”

Nadia Saghuir, a migrant from Morocco who lives in Ruiz’s building, told Truthout that she didn’t agree with squatting an apartment at first. But after rental agencies refused to rent to her, she realized it was her family’s only option. She began attending PAHC meetings and evictions to understand the issue better. “After a while, I understood how the PAHC works and I can also say that I am a part of the PAHC,” she said. “I am living in a PAHC’s building, and fighting with the whole building’s community to demand a social rent to the property.” In addition to occupying vacant buildings, PAHC halts about three evictions per week, sometimes by physically blocking the entrance of homes when police attempt to evict tenants. This tactic buys them time to either relocate people, negotiate with the city government for public housing or negotiate with real estate companies to give occupiers lower “social” rent, which is theoretically required by Spanish law, but many companies — especially international ones — don’t comply.

As we toured the city, Planes invited migrants who were facing eviction to Sunday assemblies, which include translation support and child care. “We’re not an eviction defense service,” said Planes. “We believe in mutual aid, not charity. If you want to get help, you need to help others. But, of course, it’s hard to tell someone that you’re not going to help them, because at the end of the day we believe everyone should have a house, everyone.” Saghuir said engaging with and joining PAHC has been a transformative experience. “Today I can say that I am not the same Nadia from 2022, I am a new one with different ideas and knowledge,” she said. “Today I am very brave, I can do interviews or talk to neighbors in the neighborhood — of course a large part of them are against squatters — but I can talk to anyone and defend my apartment, defend the PAHC, defend the fight. And all of that thanks to the PAHC, that has given me a roof and has changed many ideas and many realities.”

PAHC is building power by encouraging people to be active agents of change in their own lives, and also by forming solidaristic relationships with other local organizations. The day before our interview, Planes participated in a successful eviction defense with about 70 others from the Network of Popular and Community Structures (XEPC), a network of anti-capitalist community structures in Manresa that mutually support each other. They warded off the police by going outside of the home prior to the eviction scheduled for 10 am. “We were expecting to get evicted. The cops came, but without riot police, probably because they saw it was in front of a school, in front of a market and there were too many of us,” Planes said. “The judiciary secretary came too. They cancelled the eviction, but they are going to come back on the 25th of February.

Other times PAHC is able to negotiate lower rent or public housing with stakeholders prior to eviction attempts. PAHC has checks and balances in place to prevent being coopted by lawyers working for banks or the government.

“You don’t have meetings with politicians without telling the assembly. You don’t withhold information from the assembly. You don’t create separate groups to plan things without the assembly. There is a culture of not making decisions in a communication silo,” said Planes. “Whenever I negotiate with them, I go through the assembly, and sometimes they joke with me that I am getting too soft, because you build some empathy when you negotiate with someone and you get soft as you know them better. And that’s something we face often. The assembly or collective is there to tell you, ‘You’re getting softer.’”

PAHC sees these types of negotiations as part of the reality they face in the struggle for housing. “You can’t do anything if you’re constantly against everyone,” he said. “I disagree with everyone I meet very often. Today I met with hypercapitalistic lawyers from a hypercapitalistic company, but I might have resolved one of the 15 cases [with this bank] because we pointed out one of the big holes in the case.”

Housing movements in other parts of Spain have taken on similar shapes. From the ’80s through the 2000s, squatting was largely characterized by activists taking over social centers, like La SĆØquia. But the tactic generalized into more of a popular, grassroots movement for housing following 15M. Throughout the country, occupations of plazas eventually dispersed into smaller-scale neighborhood assemblies, and neighborhood assemblies reached out to and supported people facing evictions. In Seville, 15M organizers set up a series of housing advisory offices managed by volunteer lawyers and activists that supported families facing eviction.

“Families began to group around the offices, to force negotiation with credit institutions, stop evictions and, after some time, to organize collective squats,” wrote researchers Iban Diaz-Parra and Jose Candon Mena. 15M’s assemblies helped 38 families move into four vacant buildings in Seville in May 2012, and in the coming months more than 200 families occupied another nine buildings.

Between 2011 and 2013, more than 700 people occupied empty houses owned by banks with PAH’s support in Catalonia and another 400 people used similar strategies in Andalusia, a territory in southern Spain, according to Waging Nonviolence.

A similar movement for housing didn’t materialize following Occupy Wall Street in the U.S., for complicated reasons, but perhaps in part because Occupy Wall Street’s momentum and energy didn’t disperse into neighborhoods. In a reflection on the U.S. Occupy movement, writer Peter Gelderloos, who participated in 15M’s plaza occupations and neighborhood assemblies, noted that an “absence of place” was a hurdle for U.S. social movements. “Hardly anyone is from anywhere, and most places are built according to the needs of planned obsolescence, so that local identities barely have any common foundation from one decade to the next,” he writes. “The landscape itself is constantly dissolving. In the US, people are born into precarity and forced mobility.”

Yet, housing struggles in the U.S. gained a resurgence in 2020 and 2021, when more than 10 million people faced eviction after losing their income due to COVID-19. The Autonomous Tenants Union Network established a formalized network in 2020 that coordinates tenant unions across the country, including the Portland Tenants United and the LA Tenants Union. In Philadelphia, about 50 people — mostly single moms and their children — took over 15 vacant properties owned by the Philadelphia Housing Authority in March 2020. By the end of September 2020, the city agreed to establish a land trust with 50 housing units in exchange for disbanding the encampments organizers had set up. As of February 2024, the city hadn’t handed over a single house to a land trust, however, according to local news source Billy Penn.

Housing movements in the U.S. face unique challenges because private property is revered above all else legally and morally for much of the population. In part, this is a legacy of slavery and colonialism: Stolen Indigenous land and enslaved people were the two great forms of property in the New World.

In turn, people on Turtle Island — a term used by some Indigenous people to refer to North America — have resisted the private property regime since its inception. Tens of thousands of enslaved Black people abolished themselves as property by running away prior to the Civil War and hundreds of thousands more fled during the war in what W.E.B Du Bois called the “General Strike” of slaves. In most major cities during the 1930s, the Communist Party organized large-scale eviction defenses and protests through Unemployed Councils where hundreds, and sometimes thousands, of people would prevent police from taking furniture from people’s homes. In some cases, police shot and killed eviction defenders. In March 1931, one reporter wrote that eviction defense had “practically stopped evictions” in Detroit. Still, millions were forced out of the rent-paying housing market during the Great Depression.

What would it take for housing struggles to generalize into large-scale grassroots movements in the United States today? Hannah Dobbz, author of Nine-Tenths of the Law: Property and Resistance in the United States, told Justseeds she has seen public squatting demonstrations successfully executed in the U.S. when squatters involve the surrounding community.

Planes also emphasized the importance of garnering public support through political education. “Successful housing movements need the backing of the neighborhood,” he said. “Make sure there’s political consciousness.” Learning about housing laws and holding boisterous demonstrations out of occupations have also bolstered the housing movement in Manresa. “When we occupy a building, it’s a celebration,” he said. “When we go public, there’s free food in front of the house and we throw a party. We say, ‘That’s ours, we achieved that, you are welcome to come.’”

U.S. organizers can take inspiration from Manresa and other parts of the world but ultimately need to determine which actions and strategies make sense in their own neighborhoods. Dobbz said U.S. squatters should not attempt to replicate the European movement, which has its own specific rich history of squatting and property resistance. U.S. squatters need to study and understand the importance of their own context. “Many of the confrontational/militant Euro-style tactics don’t seem to translate in the American context — instead they often seem to just confuse and annoy neighbors, media and authorities … and then all the squatters go to jail,” she said.

It may not be possible to throw rowdy parties outside of gigantic squattable nunneries in Bushwick, or Los Angeles or San Francisco just yet, but we may be able to find our own strategic equivalents by building roots and relationships in own neighborhoods.


Ella Fassler  is an independent journalist based in New York City. Their work on community autonomy, labor, technology and the carceral system has been featured in Teen Vogue, The Boston Globe, The Nation, Vice, The Appeal, Slate, OneZero, Shadowproof, Mic, In These Times, The Counter and elsewhere.
The U.S. Southwest Offers Blueprints for the Future of Wastewater Reuse

Our existing water supplies could go further by turning wastewater into drinking water.

October 31, 2024
Source: Originally published by Z. Feel free to share widely.





No country is immune from water scarcity issues—not even wealthy countries like the United States.

Population growth and climate change are stretching America’s water supplies to the limit, and tapping new sources is becoming more difficult each year—in some cases, even impossible.

The Southwestern states, in particular, have faced “intense” droughts during the 21st century, and traditional water supplies are failing. As groundwater supplies in the region have depleted substantially, rainfall has decreased, and water import costs have risen substantially. According to a September 2022 Nature article about the water situation in the Southwest, there is a “very low chance for regional mega-reservoirs to regain full-capacity levels assuming current demand.”

The region looks to the Colorado River as its plumbing system, which currently provides drinking water to 1 in 10 Americans—all while irrigating nearly 5.5 million acres of land. But it’s also being stretched to its limits: Population growth and expansive development are increasing agricultural demands. Meanwhile, the pressure to ensure sufficient water is left in the environment to support ecosystems has accelerated. According to a December 2012 study by the U.S. Department of the Interior Bureau of Reclamation, the demands on the Colorado River are expected to exceed supply by 2040.

On top of this, each state has vastly different needs. For example, Nevada’s needs are largely urban, but Arizona and California require water for huge agricultural and urban sectors. Each year, states argue over who has the superior right to water supplies. And once they have their allocation, districts frequently end up in litigation over their allotment. There is always a shortage of water, raising questions about who is responsible and how best to mitigate the water crisis.

In 2023, the depleting water levels in the river created a “crisis after decades of overuse.” The seven states that depend on the Colorado River for water and power had to agree to reduce their water usage to ensure the river was still flowing. “Three states—Arizona, California, and Nevada—have agreed on a plan to conserve at least 3 million acre-feet of water by 2026—roughly the equivalent to the amount of water it would take to fill 6 million Olympic-sized swimming pools,” reported NBC in May 2023.

While demand is increasing, climate change has damaged supply—and the impact is twofold: As less water comes down the Colorado River, people are using more water due to increased temperatures.

Simply put, there is only so much water.

“When you can’t make the pie bigger, and you’re fighting over a finite supply, it’s a misery index, just an allocation pain for all parties,” says Brad Herrema, a lawyer specializing in water law and natural resources.

“But if you can make the pie bigger, there’s less fighting.”
Turning Wastewater Into a Resource

Our existing water supplies must be expanded, and the technology exists to do this by turning wastewater into drinking water. This is not a new science, but the practice has evolved significantly in the past 50 years.

In the 1960s, water availability became problematic in rapidly growing areas in the U.S., and water managers began to consider using wastewater to augment supplies. Several water reuse projects were built in the following decades in California, Virginia, Texas, and Georgia, but larger developments in the 1990s were met with opposition. “Toilet to tap” narratives in the media fed misperceptions regarding the treatment process, which helped to dismantle public support for these projects. What “toilet to tap” misses is membrane filtration, as of 2024, is membrane desalination, ozone, and advanced oxidation, to name a few treatment options that make the purified water entirely safe to drink.

However, advances in these technologies associated with water reuse helped boost confidence in and acceptance of the practice among water professionals in the early 2000s. Now, water reuse is entering the mainstream.

Almost half of all the potable reuse projects built in California since the first in 1962 were installed between 2009 and 2023, with several more on the horizon. With more potable reuse projects than any other state, California plans to use 2.5 million acre-feet of water per year (AFY) by 2030.

According to a document by the Environmental Protection Agency and CDM Smith Inc., potable reuse also makes up “a significant portion” of the nation’s water supply once de facto reuse is factored in.

What’s clear is that some major U.S. cities are already delivering recycled wastewater to consumers on a massive scale and expanding the pie. However, how a municipality can recycle wastewater depends largely on the area’s geography, financial resources, and, perhaps most importantly, the public’s attitude.
Las Vegas

Las Vegas recycles nearly all of its water used indoors, giving it a virtually inexhaustible supply of water for domestic consumption. The city benefits from its unique geography. Almost 90 percent of southern Nevada’s water is taken from Lake Mead, which lies on the Colorado River. It is then treated and run through the city’s system. After it’s flushed or drained, the water makes its way to a wastewater treatment plant before it’s discharged into the Las Vegas Wash. From there it makes its way to Lake Mead where it is either drawn back out or stays in the river, ensuring there’s enough water for cities downstream of Vegas.

One key element that makes Vegas’s reuse system so effective is “the Wash,” a 12-mile-long channel that acts “as the ‘natural kidneys,’ cleaning the water that runs through them by filtering out [any] harmful contaminants” on its way back to Lake Mead. Thanks to the Wash, when the water is withdrawn again, it does not need to undergo a costly process of advanced treatment; instead, it undergoes basic drinking water treatment.

Another critical factor in Vegas’s success is that for every gallon of water the city puts into Lake Mead, it can take a gallon back out—meaning the city is essentially recycling its indoor water in a closed loop. This is known as de facto water reuse.

Nevada is allocated 300,000 AFY of water from the Colorado River each year. Bronson Mack, public information officer with the SNWA, says that in 2019, the city actually diverted 490,000 AFY of water from the Colorado River but only consumed 234,000 AFY. About 256,000 AFY was returned to the lake.

“Our return flow credits system is unique,” says Colby Pellegrino, deputy general manager of resources for SNWA. “Once we return the water to Lake Mead, we’re not charged for that water. We’re only charged for the total we depleted.”

Mack adds that local water utilities were paying $313 for treatment and delivery of 1 acre-foot of water as of 2020, and passing that cost on to the consumer. If Vegas could not return such a large proportion of its water, that cost would rise dramatically.

De facto reuse is also vital for a city that can’t afford to gamble on the weather—Las Vegas is the driest city in the U.S. When the Colorado River produced only 25 percent of its usual supply in 2002, the city was struck by drought, but its citizens still had unlimited access to indoor water.

“Vegas couldn’t exist without [the] return flow credits approach,” says Daniel Gerrity, principal research scientist at SNWA. “Without that, we’d have already maxed out.”

Despite a wet winter in 2023 and an improvement in the water levels in lakes, “Southern Nevada’s water supplies from the Colorado River at Lake Mead remain under shortage reductions,” points out Southern Nevada Water Authority, warning that “The risk of shortage remains high in future years.”

Meanwhile, not every city has a Lake Mead or a Wash. For places without Vegas’s luck, there are other ways to ensure water reuse.
Orange County, California

Orange County Water District (OCWD) is a world leader in water reuse. Since 2008, it has provided drinking water to 2.5 million people—in a region with no more than 15 inches of annual rainfall—through its Groundwater Replenishment System (GWRS) project. This project has helped highlight the effectiveness of IPR, giving other providers a model to emulate and providing the full-scale data that was previously missing to evaluate the viability of the process.

The water reused through GWRS would have otherwise been discharged into the Pacific Ocean. By keeping it in the system, there is less reliance on the Colorado River, easing the strain on its supplies.

The city utilizes a process called indirect potable reuse (IPR). In the absence of an environmental filtration process like the Las Vegas Wash, Orange County’s wastewater has to undergo advanced treatment before it is pumped to a groundwater basin. From there, it is pumped to the consumer via a standard drinking water treatment train, making it safe to consume and completing the cycle. The process not only turns wastewater back into a resource but also saves massively on the cost of pumping Colorado River water from hundreds of miles away.

GWRS, which is a joint project of OCWD and the Orange County Sanitation District (OCSD) “accounts for approximately 35 percent of water demands,” according to OCWD, and its wastewater treatment capacity was further expanded in 2023 from 100 to 130 million gallons per day. This is “enough to fill nearly 200 Olympic-sized pools and enough for a million people,” according to a 2023 article by the Daily Pilot.

“Orange County is the benchmark [for] water reuse system,” says Gerrity. Water managers from around the world visit OCWD to learn how they’ve managed such success.

Like so many regions innovating in water reuse, drought forced their hand. In 1975, “[a]s imported water supplies became less available, another source of water was needed to fight seawater intrusion. In April 1975, OCWD unveiled… [a facility that] took treated wastewater from the… OCSD, blended it with deep well water and injected it into… [a basin]. In 1977, [OCWD became]… the first in the world to use reverse osmosis to purify wastewater to drinking water standards.”

The project was expanded in line with the demand in the ’90s, and the GWRS, which has been operational since 2008, is now the world’s largest advanced water purification system for potable use. “The largest reuse facility in the world can now treat nearly 500 million liters of secondary wastewater a day,” points out the nonprofit Water Reuse Europe.

And through it all, OCWD managed to swerve the “toilet to tap” attacks that had ruined public support for such projects in other areas of California.

How?

“People expect to find out that our success is grounded in some secret technology, but they find out it’s all about education, education, education,” says Rob Thompson, general manager at OCSD, which treats the water before sending it to the basin managed by OCWD. “Bringing the public on board with drinking [recycled] wastewater takes a lot of outreach. Getting over the ‘yuck factor’ is everything. We had to speak with NGOs, governors, the authorities, politicians—you name it—we spoke to them. Once you have enough people on board, everyone starts to think it must be okay.”

“People have high expectations about the quality of their water and have a lot of questions,” adds Megan Plumlee, who heads OCWD’s research and development department. “We explain to the public what we’re doing and how it’ll benefit the district, retailers, and community.”

Following OCWD’s lead, San Diego embarked on a massive multi-year potable reuse project that planners say will provide nearly 50 percent of the city’s water supply locally by the end of 2035. Indeed, sometimes a new process takes hold only because of a leader in the field who shows the way and proves something can be done safely on a large scale.

“We weren’t the first to try it, but we were the first to succeed on such a massive scale. That’s because we were the first to really embrace education. Now others are doing the same,” says Thompson.

Now, 16 states have developed regulations that allow for IPR, with several more IPR projects on the horizon that will help bolster water supplies—all without putting additional pressure on the Colorado River.

Another more efficient water reuse method has yet to take hold in the U.S., though it may soon find its leader.
San Diego

Direct potable reuse (DPR) was labeled the final frontier of water reuse by G. Tracy Mehan, the executive director for government affairs at the American Water Works Association (AWWA), in a November 2019 Opinion piece published in the Scientific American. The process does away with an environmental buffer and pumps wastewater directly through an advanced treatment train before it is purified and put straight back into the system in a matter of hours.

Given this reality, DPR can deliver water more efficiently and cost-effectively by using existing infrastructure and without needing to build expensive and energy-intensive pipelines to a reservoir or groundwater basin. DPR can also allow for more water to be recycled than IPR as there are no limitations on the reservoir or groundwater basin.

Additionally, DPR avoids regulations on putting water back into the environment by eliminating the buffer. And finally, DPR can be more reliable and efficient. Jeff Mosher, vice president and principal technologist at Carollo Engineers, a leading firm in engineering water reuse systems, explains that DPR can turn wastewater into drinking water in a matter of hours, faster than IPR or any other reuse method.

As of early 2023, only one facility in the U.S. is currently equipped to operate DPR. Big Spring in West Texas identified DPR as the most feasible way to address an urgent need to diversify the city’s water portfolio and increase its supply reliability for when rains fail to fill the city’s reservoirs—the project serves around 135,000 people, according to a 2019 article published in the Journal of Environmental Planning and Management.

The Colorado River Municipal Water District (CRMWD) in Big Spring began operating this plant in 2013. It could treat up to 2 million gallons per day of wastewater effluent to drinking water standards, providing a much-needed water supply amid punishing droughts.

However, DPR has yet to become a mainstream and trusted water supply system, and it remains unused beyond times of crisis and for larger communities.

Arizona and Florida are in the process of developing their DPR regulations while California and Colorado already have these regulations in place. However, most states have yet to consider implementing this technology, mainly due to a lack of public acceptance. The speed at which DPR recycles wastewater makes it particularly vulnerable to “toilet to tap” attacks, and this has consumers concerned, who worry over the small room for error and the “yuck factor.”

An attempt to introduce potable reuse in San Diego in the 1990s failed after fears of “drinking sewage” diminished trust in the project and fostered uncertainty about the safety of the water. Fast-forward 12 years to 2011, a rebranded project, Pure Water San Diego, did things differently.

A 2012 survey carried out by the San Diego County Water Authority found that 73 percent of the respondents either strongly or somewhat favored “advanced treated recycled water as an addition to the supply of drinking water.” This figure was an improvement from the 2011 survey.

San Diego has changed its mind, and now it may one day do what OCWD has done for IPR and pave the way for DPR use on a broader scale.

With lessons learned from OCWD, outreach helped bring the community on board in San Diego. “We had to educate the community on the concept [of potable reuse],” Amy Dorman, assistant director at San Diego’s Pure Water program, says. “We ran focus groups with the community, made ourselves flexible moving forward, and recognized the importance of listening to the community. In the ’90s, there was not the right amount of education. Now it’s comprehensive. We do tours, presentations, websites, mailers and [identify] all stakeholders—[ensuring] diligent and constant outreach.”

Dorman explains that 18,665 San Diegans have visited the demonstration facility as of 2021, while the team at Pure Water has spoken to almost 30,000 children in schools. They explain that 50,000 lab tests have been carried out on the water supply as of 2020, each meeting every regulatory standard and producing exceptional water quality—typical tap water is actually less highly treated than DPR tap water.

However, the key statistic is that 85 to 90 percent of San Diego’s water is already imported from the Colorado River and Northern California Bay-Delta. In fact, because the city is downstream, Dorman says the water has already been recycled 49 times by other water districts before reaching San Diego. She says this usually quells fears that drinking recycled water is unsanitary since, as it turns out, this has been happening for years.

“What we know now is that it’s possible to convince people,” adds Mosher. “We have proven that every community you go into that has concerns, you can overcome.”

San Diego hopes that by 2035, a third of the city’s water supply will come from locally supplied, recycled wastewater instead of importing the majority of it.

For phase one, the Pure Water San Diego program—funded by the San Diego government—will use IPR to provide the city with 30 million gallons of water per day, utilizing the nearby Miramar Reservoir as an environmental buffer in a similar way to how Orange County uses its groundwater basin. “San Diego’s Pure Water treatment system will be operational and providing 7 million gallons of water a day to residents by 2026,” says a January 2024 KPBS article.

Phases two and three will target an additional 53 million gallons of water per day by 2035. In the absence of a groundwater basin and large enough reservoirs, Pure Water San Diego plans to employ DPR to realize the project’s full scale.

Mosher says that cities with plans to do DPR one day don’t want the attention to be the ones to take the plunge into doing it on a large scale. But with projects on the horizon in San Diego and El Paso, Texas, Mosher expects greater faith in the process by 2030. A 2011 public opinion poll shows that citizens are 50 percent more likely to accept recycled water when they learn that other communities have done so already.

Without a leader in the field, cities interested in doing DPR may hesitate, but Gerrity is positive about the impact San Diego can have countrywide.

“It’s a good platform to go forward,” he says. “We have more options for facing water scarcity, another tool in the toolbox to tap into. Conservation, potable reuse [and] innovative technologies all extend supply and give high-quality drinking water to the public.”
Mainstreaming Potable Reuse

While water reuse is breaking into the mainstream, there are still challenges going forward.

It is not simply a matter of copying Las Vegas, Orange County, or San Diego. A region’s geography and finances often dictate a city’s water supply, which significantly impacts what kind of reuse that city can attempt. De facto reuse, as in Las Vegas, is incredibly site-specific and requires the geography of an area to substitute for advanced treatment, while the most successful IPR projects rely on large groundwater basins and nearby reservoirs.

Both types of potable reuse are also incredibly expensive. While they may save money in the long term, they require a huge initial investment.

The federal government needs to step in to support water recycling projects. Taking a step in this direction, the Biden administration provided almost $100 million for the Pure Water Southern California facility. “Water recycling is an innovative and cost-effective tool that can help make our water supplies more reliable, helping communities find new sources to meet their needs today, but most importantly to meet our needs in the future,” said Reclamation Commissioner Camille Calimlim Touton in May 2024.

Working out what works best for one community is half the battle. Thanks to the geographical nuances that help potable reuse or de facto reuse work, there is no one-size-fits-all.

“You could take what Orange County does, and it’s going to work, but the question is whether that is the best approach for that location. So, the challenge is, now that we feel comfortable with one approach, can we do it a different way?” says Gerrity.

Mosher is trying to compile all the information on water reuse into an easy-to-read guidance document that cities considering the process can use to decide which approach may be best for them.

“It’s about getting to a point where communities who want to try DPR don’t feel overwhelmed,” says Mosher.

What’s clear is that the Colorado River can no longer be relied upon to meet the water needs of an increasing population. If we continue asking so much of it, we have to start easing those pressures. Water reuse is imperative if the driest parts of the world continue growing without destroying the environment that relies as much on water as we do.


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Freddie Clayton is an investigative journalist with the Center for Collaborative Investigative Journalism, focusing on environmental themes, specifically water and sanitation issues worldwide. He is a contributor to the Observatory.