The image of U.S. Senator Alex Padilla—handcuffed and dragged away while advocating for immigrant rights—is more than symbolic. It’s a chilling reminder that in America today, even the highest-ranking Latino officials are not immune from the forces of erasure. This moment, along with ICE raids in Los Angeles, an assault on DEI in education, and the Tennessee Attorney General’s lawsuit seeking to dismantle funding for Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs), signals a coordinated assault on Latino dignity, equity, and belonging. These are not isolated events. They are part of a broader backlash against racial justice, driven by white supremacy and an entrenched fear of demographic and cultural change.
As a scholar of race, leadership, and equity in higher education, I know this moment calls for something deeper than mere outrage. It calls for action. We need what I call Critical Transformational Leaders—individuals who act with moral courage, who center justice over comfort, and who are unafraid to challenge systemic racism from positions both high and humble.
Latinos have long been relegated to the margins of American opportunity. Historically underfunded schools, structural barriers to college access, and overrepresentation in low-wage, high-risk jobs are not accidents—they are outcomes of a deeply racialized system. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, Latinos are overrepresented in sectors like agriculture, construction, food service, and maintenance. Meanwhile, Hispanic degree attainment continues to trail that of white students, due in large part to institutional neglect, inadequate supports, and economic precarity.
At a time when the U.S. economy urgently needs more college-educated workers, the fastest-growing demographic—Latinos—is systematically shut out of pathways to social mobility. By 2060, Latinos will comprise nearly 30% of the U.S. population. Yet the very institutions that serve them, like HSIs and community colleges, are starved for resources while elite universities absorb the lion’s share of federal and philanthropic investment.
This is no accident. As economist Charles Clotfelter wrote, “Colleges were and are unequal—in the money they take in, the money they are able to put aside, the money they spend, and the quality of their facilities, faculty, and students.” This inequality is a feature of a racialized higher education system—not a bug. And yet, it’s these open-access Hispanic-serving institutions, not the Ivy League, that serve a majority of low-income, first-generation, and Latino students. They are doing the heavy lifting of American democracy.
From my research, I’ve seen Critical Transformational Leaders working at these institutions every day. I’ve met college presidents who create child care supports for student-parents, educators who restructure pathways to living-wage jobs, and staff who fight to keep food pantries open and offer emergency aid. These leaders understand that policy isn’t just paperwork—it’s a life raft. They ask, again and again, “Are we being courageous enough on behalf of our students?”
Yet too often, they are left to do this work without the necessary funding or political support. This chronic underinvestment is not just poor policy—it is racism in practice. As Dr. Ibram X. Kendi reminds us, “A policy is racist if it produces or sustains racial inequity.” Underfunding HSIs while investing heavily in elite institutions sustains exactly that.
We cannot continue to speak about equity in the abstract while actively gutting the institutions that make it possible. This moment demands clear-eyed honesty about our nation’s educational caste system and bold, equity-minded policy solutions to dismantle it. We must radically rethink how we invest in higher education and who we deem worthy of opportunity.
This is not simply about economics—though the economic case for investing in Latino education is clear. It is about our shared humanity. It is about citizenship—not just in the legal sense, but in the moral one. In a just society every voice is lifted, and citizens are granted participation as a right—not a privilege.
When we allow discrimination to go unchecked—when we remain silent as DEI programs are dismantled, as HSI funding is challenged, as Latino leaders are handcuffed—we erode not only opportunity, but democracy itself.
The U.S. has always relied on Latino labor. But now, it must invest in Latino leadership. Our institutions must be reimagined with equity at their center. That means funding HSIs not as an afterthought, but as a national imperative. It means measuring college success not by prestige, but by impact—on students, families, and communities. It means valuing Latinos not only as workers, but as scholars, leaders, and full participants in civic life.
As Leslie Cornfeld of the National Education Equity Lab put it:
“Talent is equally distributed. Opportunity is not.”
To change that, we need more than programs. We need a movement. We need Critical Transformational Leaders—in every classroom, boardroom, and policy chamber—who are willing to confront injustice with vision and resolve. If we want Latinos to thrive not in spite of this country, but because of it, we must ensure the systems around them do not continue to fail.
The future of our democracy depends on it.
Dr. Anthony Hernandez, a faculty member in the Department of Educational Policy Studies at the University of Wisconsin—Madison (UW-Madison), received a research award from the National Academy of Education/Spencer Foundation for his study on leadership in Hispanic-Serving Institutions.




















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.