Medugrift and the price makers in higher education

In the United States, the cost of higher education is not a natural phenomenon. It is deliberately constructed by a network of institutional actors who function as price makers: university presidents, chief financial officers, boards of trustees, governors, and state legislators. They determine what students pay, how institutions are structured, and whose interests higher education ultimately serves. Their decisions shape tuition, labor conditions, program priorities, and the balance between education and the expanding world of medugrift—the hybrid system where medicine, education, debt, and corporate extraction intersect.

For decades, the American public has been told that tuition rises because education is inherently expensive. But as Richard Wolff argues in his critiques of the “War on the Working Class,” the economic decisions shaping tuition, labor costs, athletics, administrative growth, and capital projects reflect class priorities. The price makers choose which costs are fundamental and which are negotiable. They choose what gets built, who gets hired, and how much debt institutions take on. They choose who pays.

University presidents now act more like corporate executives than academic leaders. They negotiate seven-figure salaries, travel globally for fundraising, and preside over campuses where luxury construction often outruns academic needs. They approve budgets that elevate branding and athletics while pressuring academic departments to justify their existence through profit metrics. Tuition increases rarely slow presidential compensation; instead, they are framed as regrettable necessities dictated by “the market” or “competitive realities.”

CFOs enforce a financial logic that prioritizes credit ratings, cash reserves, and debt-financed expansion. They present budgets as neutral, but each line reflects a hierarchy of value. Instruction is cast as a cost center. Staff health care, faculty benefits, and student services become “inefficiencies.” Meanwhile, massive expenditures on consultants, real estate, information systems, and administration are justified as essential to “modernization.” The result is predictable: the people who teach and learn bear the burden while those who administer expand.

Trustees represent another layer of price making. Often drawn from banking, private equity, real estate, biotech, and corporate medicine, trustees bring a worldview shaped by capital accumulation rather than public service. They authorize tuition hikes, approve investment strategies, and greenlight partnerships that blend public education with private profit. Many trustees sit simultaneously on hospital boards or medical investment firms, allowing medugrift to flourish in the shadows of institutional legitimacy. Their decisions shape which programs expand, which shrink, and which students are offered genuine opportunity.

State governors and legislators are external architects of scarcity. Since the 1980s, state governments have systematically defunded public higher education while channeling resources to mass incarceration, gambling revenue schemes, corporate tax breaks, and subsidies to companies like Amazon. These choices undermine the ability of public institutions to remain affordable and force them to operate increasingly like private universities. The shift from public funding to tuition revenue is not inevitable; it is a political strategy. HBCUs and tribal colleges have lived with this manufactured scarcity for generations. Their chronic underfunding—documented in numerous state audits and federal investigations—illustrates what happens when government treats education for marginalized communities as optional.

The emergence of medugrift reveals a deeper structural problem. At the intersection of higher education and corporate medicine sits an engine of extraction. University medical systems leverage public funding, student tuition, and philanthropic contributions to build financial empires that often serve administrators first and communities last. Medical schools charge extreme tuition while placing students into debt-heavy paths. University hospitals consolidate regional health systems, increasing costs while reducing access. Research produced through public dollars is routinely captured by private pharmaceutical or biotech companies. Meanwhile, residents and faculty in these health systems often endure poor working conditions and stagnant pay. Medugrift conceals itself behind the prestige of medicine, but its logic mirrors that of predatory education: privatize gains, socialize losses, and extract from those with the least bargaining power.

Who determines the costs to students? The answer lies in the aggregated decisions of these actors. When a university raises tuition to protect its bond rating, that is a decision. When trustees invest in athletics while cutting humanities programs, that is a decision. When governors choose prisons over scholarships, that is a decision. When state legislatures allow gambling revenue to substitute for stable taxation, that is a decision. Each choice shifts the financial burden downward while consolidating power upward.

This is not simply mismanagement; it is a class project. The people who determine prices do not feel them. Students, families, adjunct instructors, and underfunded communities do. For working-class students, particularly those from historically excluded backgrounds, the price makers have built a system defined by debt, precarity, and limited mobility.

Nothing about this system is inevitable. There was a time when public universities were affordable, when trustees included community members and labor leaders, when presidents were educators, and when medical centers served the public rather than corporate conglomerates. If the price makers can build this system, a more democratic and humane system can be built to replace it.

The question for the coming decade is not whether higher education is too expensive. The public has already reached its verdict. The question is whether students, workers, and communities will continue to let the price makers—and the medugrift machinery attached to them—define who gets educated, who gets indebted, and who gets left behind.

Sources
Richard D. Wolff, Understanding Socialism; Capitalism Hits the Fan
Elisabeth Rosenthal, An American Sickness
Harriet A. Washington, Medical Apartheid
Rebecca Skloot, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
Alondra Nelson, Body and Soul
State Higher Education Finance (SHEF) Reports
U.S. Department of Education, Office for Civil Rights, HBCU Funding Analyses

The New Cold War in the Americas: Power, Proxy, and the People Caught in Between

The Western Hemisphere is entering a new and dangerous phase of global rivalry—one shaped by old imperial habits, new economic pressures, and resurgent great-power maneuvering. From Washington to Beijing to Caracas, political leaders are escalating tensions over Venezuela’s future, reviving a familiar script in which Latin America becomes the proving ground for foreign powers and a pressure cooker for working-class people who have no say in the geopolitical games unfolding above them.

What looks like a confrontation over oil, governance, or regional security is better understood as a collision of neoliberal extraction, colonial legacies, and competing empires, each claiming moral authority while pursuing strategic advantage. In this moment, it is essential to remember what history shows again and again: ordinary people—soldiers, students, workers—pay the highest price for elite ambitions.

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A Long Shadow: U.S. Intervention in Latin America Since the 1890s

The U.S. role in Latin America cannot be separated from its imperial foundations. Over more than a century, Washington has repeatedly intervened—militarily, covertly, and financially—to shape political outcomes in the region:

• 1898–1934: The “Banana Wars.” U.S. Marines were deployed throughout the Caribbean and Central America to secure plantations, protect U.S. investors, and maintain favorable governments in Cuba, Puerto Rico, Nicaragua, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Panama, and Honduras.

• 1954: Guatemala. The CIA overthrew democratically elected President Jacobo Árbenz after he challenged United Fruit Company landholdings.

• 1961: Bay of Pigs Invasion. A failed U.S.-backed attempt to overthrow Fidel Castro.

• 1973: Chile. U.S. support for the coup against Salvador Allende ushered in the Pinochet dictatorship and a laboratory for neoliberal economics.

• 1980s: Nicaragua, El Salvador, Guatemala. Funding death squads, supporting Contra rebels, and fueling civil wars that killed hundreds of thousands.

• 1989: Panama. A full-scale U.S. invasion to remove Manuel Noriega, with civilian casualties in the thousands.

• 2002: Venezuela. U.S. officials supported the brief coup against Hugo Chávez.

• 2020s: Economic warfare continues. Sanctions, diplomatic isolation, and support for factions opposing Nicolás Maduro all sustain a long-running pressure campaign.

This is not ancient history. It is the operating system of U.S. hemispheric influence.

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China’s Expanding Soft Power and Strategic Positioning

While the U.S. escalates military signaling toward Venezuela, China is expanding soft power, economic influence, and political relationships throughout Latin America—including with Venezuela. Beijing’s strategy is centered not on direct military confrontation but on long-term infrastructure, trade, and diplomatic partnerships designed to reduce U.S. dominance.

Recent statements from Beijing underscore this shift. Chinese President Xi Jinping publicly backed Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, describing China and Venezuela as “intimate friends” as the U.S. intensifies military pressure in the region. China’s role extends beyond rhetoric: loans, technology transfers, energy investments, and political support form a web of influence that counters U.S. objectives.

This is the new terrain: the U.S. leaning on sanctions and military posture, China leveraging soft power and strategic alliances.

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Russia as a Third Power in the Hemisphere

Any honest assessment of the current geopolitical climate must include Russia, which has expanded its presence in Latin America as part of its broader campaign to counter U.S. power globally. Moscow has supplied Venezuela with military equipment, intelligence support, cybersecurity assistance, and diplomatic cover at the United Nations. It has strengthened ties with Nicaragua, Cuba, and other governments willing to challenge U.S. regional dominance.

Russia’s involvement is not ideological; it is strategic. It seeks to weaken Washington’s influence, create leverage in distant theaters, and embed itself in the Western Hemisphere without deploying large-scale military forces. Where China builds infrastructure and invests billions, Russia plays the spoiler: complicating U.S. policy, reinforcing embattled leaders when convenient, and offering an alternative to nations seeking to escape U.S. hegemony.

The result is a crowded geopolitical arena in which Venezuela becomes not just a domestic crisis but a theater for multipolar contention, shaped by three major powers with very different tools and interests.

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Neoliberalism, Colonialism, and the Repeating Pattern

Viewed in historical context, today’s crisis is simply the newest iteration of a long-standing pattern:

1. Colonial logics justify intervention. The idea that Washington must “manage” or “stabilize” Latin America recycles the paternalism of earlier eras.

2. Neoliberal extraction drives policy. Control over energy resources, access to markets, and geopolitical leverage matter more than democracy or human well-being.

3. Foreign powers treat the region as a chessboard. The U.S., China, and Russia approach Latin America not as sovereign equals but as terrain for influence.

4. People—not governments—bear the cost. Sanctions devastate civilians. Military escalations breed proxy conflicts. Migration pressures rise. And working-class youth are recruited to fight battles that are not theirs.

This is why today’s developments must be understood as part of a wider global system that treats nations in the Global South as resources to exploit and battlegrounds to dominate.

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A Warning for Those Considering Enlistment or ROTC

In moments like this, the pressure on young people—especially working-class youth—to join the military increases. Recruiters frame conflict as opportunity: tuition money, job training, patriotism, adventure, or stability. But the truth is starker and more political.

Muhammad Ali’s stance during the Vietnam War remains profoundly relevant today. He refused the draft, famously stating that the Vietnamese “never called me [a slur]” and declaring that he would not fight a war of conquest against people who had done him no harm.

The same logic applies to today’s geopolitical brinkmanship. Young Americans are asked to risk their lives in conflicts that protect corporate interests, reinforce imperial ambitions, and escalate global tensions. Venezuelan workers, Chinese workers, Russian workers, and U.S. workers are not enemies. They are casualties-in-waiting of decisions made by governments and corporations insulated from the consequences of their actions.

Before enlisting—or joining ROTC—young people deserve to understand the historical cycle they may be pulled into. Wars in Latin America, proxy or direct, have never served the interests of everyday people. They serve empires.

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Sources

• Firstpost. “Xi Backs Maduro, Calls China and Venezuela ‘Intimate Friends’ as Trump Steps Up Military Pressure.”

• Greg Grandin, Empire’s Workshop: Latin America, the United States, and the Rise of the New Imperialism

• Naomi Klein, The Shock Doctrine

• Stephen Kinzer, Overthrow: America’s Century of Regime Change

• U.S. Congressional Research Service reports on U.S. policy in Venezuela and China-Latin America relations

• UN Human Rights Council documentation on sanctions and civilian impact

The Hidden Costs of ROTC — and the Military Path: Why Prospective Enlistees and Supporters Should Think Twice

[Editor's note: This article was written before West Virginia National Guard troops were shot upon in the occupied District of Columbia. That horrific event makes our point even more salient. No matter how desperate someone may be, we implore folks to think twice before signing anything related to military service under the Trump Administration.] 

For many young Americans, the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC) or other military‑linked opportunities can look like a ticket to education, steady income, and a chance to “see the world.” But the allure of scholarships, structure, and economic opportunity often hides a deeper reality — one that includes moral danger, personal risk, and long-term uncertainty.

Recent events underscore this. On November 24, 2025, the United States Department of Defense (DoD) announced it was opening a formal investigation into Mark Kelly — retired Navy captain, former astronaut, and current U.S. Senator — after he appeared in a video alongside other lawmakers urging U.S. troops to disobey “illegal orders.” The DoD’s justification: as a retired officer, Kelly remains subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ), and the department said his statements may have “interfered with the loyalty, morale, or good order and discipline of the armed forces.”

This episode is striking not only because of Kelly’s prominence, but because it shows how even after leaving active service, a veteran’s speech and actions can be subject to military law — a stark reminder that joining the military (or training through ROTC) can carry obligations and consequences long after “service” ends.

Moral, Legal & Personal Risks Behind the Promise

When you consider military service — through ROTC or otherwise — it’s important to weigh the full scope of what you may be signing up for:

Potential involvement in illegal or immoral wars: ROTC graduates may eventually be deployed in foreign conflicts — possibly ones controversial or condemned internationally (for example, interventions in places like Venezuela). Participation in such wars raises real moral questions about complicity in human rights abuses, “regime-change,” or other interventions that may lack democratic or legal legitimacy.

Domestic deployment and policing: Military obligations are increasingly stretching beyond foreign wars. Service members — even reservists — can be called in to deal with domestic “disputes,” civil unrest, or internal security operations. This raises ethical concerns about policing one’s own communities, and potential coercion or suppression of civil and political rights.

Long-term oversight and limited freedom: The investigation of Senator Kelly shows that veterans and officers remain under DoD jurisdiction even after service ends. That oversight can restrict free speech, dissent, or political engagement. Those seeking to escape economic hardship or limited opportunities may overlook how binding and enduring those obligations can be — even decades later.

Psychological and bodily danger: Military service often involves exposure to combat, trauma, physical injury — not to mention risks such as sexual assault, racism, sexism, and institutional abuse. Mental health consequences like PTSD are common, and the support systems for dealing with them are widely criticized as inadequate.

Institutional racism, sexism, and inequality: The military is an institution with historic and ongoing patterns of discrimination — which can exacerbate systemic injustices rather than alleviate them. For individuals coming from marginalized communities, the promise of “a way out” can come with new forms of structural violence, exploitation, or marginalization.

Career precarity and institutional control: Even after completing education or training, the reality of “limited choices” looms large. Military obligations — contractual, legal, social — can bind individuals long-term, affecting not just their mobility but their agency, conscience, and ability to critique the system.

Why Economic Incentives Often Mask the Real Costs

For many, the draw of ROTC is economic: scholarships, stable income, a way out of challenging socioeconomic circumstances, or a ticket out of a hometown with limited opportunity. These incentives are real. But as the recent case with Mark Kelly makes clear, the costs — legal, moral, social — can be far greater and more enduring than advertised. What looks like an escape route can become a lifetime of obligations, constraints, and potential complicity in questionable policies.

A Call for Caution, Conscience, and Awareness

Prospective enlistees deserve full transparency. The decision to join ROTC or the military should not be sold merely as an educational contract or a job opportunity — it is an entrance into a deeply entrenched institution, one with power, obligations, and potential for harm. The new controversy around Mark Kelly ought to serve as a wake-up call: if even a decorated former officer and sitting U.S. senator can be threatened decades after service, young people should consider carefully what they may be signing up for.

If you — or someone you care about — is thinking of joining, ask: What kind of wars might I be asked to fight? What does “service” really cost — and who pays?

Sources:

Higher Education Inquirer. Trump Sends West Virginia National Guard to D.C. Without Consulting Mayor Bowser." August 16, 2025. Higher Education Inquirer : Trump Sends West Virginia National Guard to D.C. Without Consulting Mayor Bowser

AP News. “Pentagon says it's investigating Sen. Mark Kelly over video urging troops to defy 'illegal orders'.” November 24, 2025. https://apnews.com/article/4882f76b05dcdfa3060c284c2c84dd12

The Guardian. “Mark Kelly: call for troops to disobey illegal orders is 'non-controversial'.” November 25, 2025. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/nov/25/mark-kelly-troops-disobey-illegal-orders-comments

Reuters. “Pentagon threatens to prosecute Senator Mark Kelly by recalling him to Navy service.” November 24, 2025. https://www.reuters.com/world/us/pentagon-threatens-prosecute-senator-mark-kelly-by-recalling-him-navy-service-2025-11-24/

RAND Corporation. “Mental Health and Military Service.” 2022.

Amnesty International. Human Rights Violations in Venezuela. 2023.

U.S. Department of Defense. Reports on Sexual Assault in the Military. 2024.

Washington, H. Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Human Experimentation in the United States.

Rosenthal, E. An American Sickness.

American Christmas 2025

Mass surveillance is no longer a marginal concern in American life. It is the silent architecture of a society managed from above and distrusted from below. The cameras aimed at students, workers, and the precarious class reflect a deeper spiritual, political, and moral crisis among the elites who designed the systems now monitoring the rest of us.

Universities, corporations, city governments, and federal agencies increasingly rely on surveillance tools to manage populations whose economic security has been gutted by the same leaders who now demand behavioral compliance. Cameras proliferate, keystrokes are tracked, movement is logged, and predictive algorithms follow people across campuses, workplaces, and public spaces. Yet those responsible for creating the conditions that justify surveillance—politicians, corporate boards, university trustees, executive donors, and policy consultants—operate in near total opacity. Their meetings take place behind closed doors, their decisions shielded from public scrutiny, their influence networks essentially invisible.

This is not a coincidence. It is the logical extension of a neoliberal elite culture that elevates market logic above moral obligation. As the Higher Education Inquirer documented in “How Educated Neoliberals Built the Homelessness Crisis,” the architects of modern austerity—professionalized, credentialed, and trained in elite universities—constructed social systems that demand accountability from the poor while providing impunity for the powerful. Their policy models treat human beings as units to be managed, scored, nudged, and surveilled. Surveillance fits seamlessly into this worldview. It is the managerial substitute for solidarity.

The moral void of this elite class is perhaps most visible in the realm of healthcare. The Affordable Care Act, whatever its limitations, represented a modest attempt to affirm that healthcare is a public good and that access should not depend entirely on wealth. But the undermining of Obamacare under Donald Trump laid bare how deeply the nation’s policy culture had descended into nihilism. Trump’s efforts to gut the ACA were not about ideology or fiscal prudence; they were an expression of power for its own sake. Funding for enrollment outreach was slashed. Navigator programs were dismantled. Work requirements for Medicaid were encouraged, despite overwhelming evidence that they punished the sick and disabled. The administration promoted junk insurance plans that offered no real protection, while lawsuits were advanced to overturn the ACA entirely, even if doing so meant millions would lose coverage.

This assault revealed the moral collapse of a political and economic elite that had grown comfortable with cruelty. It was cruelty performed as policy, sanctioned by corporate donors, embraced by right-wing media, and tolerated by the broader professional class that rarely speaks out unless its own interests are threatened. Even many of the centrist neoliberal policymakers who originally shaped the ACA’s cost-sharing structure responded with timidity, reluctant to confront the underlying truth: that the American healthcare system had become an arena where profit mattered more than survival, and where surveillance of the poor replaced accountability for the rich.

As traditional moral frameworks lose their authority—whether organized religion, civic duty, or shared ethical narratives—many Americans have drifted into agnosticism or atheism not enriched by humanist values, but hollowed out by a sense of futility. Without a shared moral anchor, people retreat into private meaning or abandon meaning altogether. In this void, conspiracy theories flourish. People know they are lied to. They sense power operating behind closed doors. They see elite institutions fail repeatedly without consequence. When institutions offer no transparency, alternatives emerge in the shadows.

The elite response is predictable: condemn conspiracies, scold the public for irrationality, invoke the language of “misinformation.” But this reaction deepens the divide. The same elites who created opaque systems—financial, academic, political, and technological—now fault ordinary people for trying to make sense of the opacity. In a society where truth is managed, measured, branded, and optimized, conspiracy becomes a form of folk epistemology. It is not always correct, but it is often understandable.

Mass surveillance is therefore not the root of the crisis but its mirror. It reflects a ruling class that no longer commands moral authority and a public that no longer trusts the institutions governing it. It reflects a society that treats the vulnerable as suspects and the powerful as untouchable. It reflects a political order in which the dismantling of healthcare protections is permissible while the monitoring of poor people’s bodies, behaviors, and spending is normalized.

If the United States is to escape this downward spiral, the cameras must eventually be turned upward. Transparency must apply not only to individuals but to corporations, boards, agencies, foundations, and the political donors who shape public life. Higher education must cease functioning as a credentialing arm of elite impunity and reclaim its role as a defender of democratic inquiry and human dignity. Public institutions must anchor themselves in ethical commitments that do not depend on religious dogma but arise from the basic principle that every human being deserves respect, security, and care.

Until that reconstruction begins, the nation will remain trapped. The elites will continue to rule through metrics and surveillance rather than legitimacy. The public will continue to oscillate between nihilism and suspicion. And the moral void at the center of American life will continue to widen, one camera at a time.

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Sources

Shoshana Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism
David Lyon, Surveillance Studies
Higher Education Inquirer, How Educated Neoliberals Built the Homelessness Crisis
Wendy Brown, Undoing the Demos
Christopher Lasch, The Revolt of the Elites
Sarah Brayne, Predict and Surveil
Elisabeth Rosenthal, An American Sickness

America Under Fire: Political Violence, Systemic Oppression, and the Role of Higher Education

The ambush shooting of two National Guardsmen near the White House on November 27, 2025, by Rahmanullah Lakanwal, a 29-year-old Afghan national, is the latest in a growing wave of politically motivated violence that has engulfed the United States since 2024. Lakanwal opened fire on uniformed service members stationed for heightened security, wounding both. Federal authorities are investigating whether ideological motives drove the attack, which comes against a backdrop of escalating domestic and international tensions. This ambush cannot be understood in isolation. It is part of a larger pattern of domestic political violence that has claimed lives across ideological lines. 

Conservative activist Charlie Kirk was assassinated at Utah Valley University during a campus event in September 2025. Minnesota state representative Mary Carlson and her husband were murdered in their home by a man impersonating law enforcement, while a state senator and spouse were injured in the same spree. Governor Josh Shapiro survived an arson attack on his residence earlier this year. Even Donald Trump was the target of an assassination attempt in July 2024. Added to this grim tally are incidents such as the 2025 Manhattan mass shooting, in which young professionals, including two Jewish women, Julia Hyman and Wesley LePatner, were killed, and the Luigi Mangione case, in which a former student allegedly killed a corporate executive in New York. Together, these incidents reveal a nation in which lethal violence increasingly intersects with politics, identity, and ideology.

The domestic escalation of violence cannot be separated from broader structures of oppression. Migrants and asylum seekers face detention, family separation, and deportation under the authority of ICE, often in conditions described as inhumane, creating fear and vulnerability among refugee communities. Routine encounters with law enforcement disproportionately harm Black, Indigenous, Latinx, and other marginalized communities. Excessive force and lethal policing add to communal distrust, reinforcing perceptions that violence is a sanctioned tool of the state. Political rhetoric compounds the problem. President Trump and other political leaders have repeatedly framed immigrants, political opponents, and even students as threats to national security, implicitly legitimizing aggressive responses and providing fodder for extremist actors.

The domestic situation is further complicated by U.S. foreign policy, which has often contributed to global instability while modeling the use of violence as an instrument of governance. In Palestine, military aid to Israel coincides with attacks on civilians and infrastructure that human-rights organizations describe as ethnic cleansing or genocide. In Venezuela, U.S. sanctions, threats, and proxy operations have intensified humanitarian crises and political instability. Complicity with the governments of the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Russia enables human-rights abuses abroad while emboldening domestic actors who mimic state-sanctioned violence. These global policies reverberate at home, influencing public discourse, shaping extremist narratives, and creating a climate in which political and ideological violence is increasingly normalized.

Higher education sits at the nexus of these domestic and global pressures. Universities and colleges are not merely observers; they are active participants and, in some cases, victims. The assassination of Charlie Kirk on a campus underscores that institutions of learning are no longer insulated from lethal political conflict. Alumni, recent graduates, and professionals—such as the victims of the Manhattan shooting—are affected even after leaving school, revealing how closely academic networks intersect with broader societal risks. International and refugee students, particularly from Afghan and Middle Eastern communities, face heightened anxiety due to restrictive immigration policies, anti-immigrant rhetoric, and the real threat of violence. Faculty teaching topics related to immigration, race, U.S. foreign policy, or genocide are increasingly targeted by harassment, threats, and institutional pressures that suppress academic freedom. The cumulative stress of political violence, systemic oppression, and global conflicts creates trauma that universities must address comprehensively, both for students and faculty.

Higher education cannot prevent every act of violence, nor can it resolve the nation’s deep political fractures. But it can model ethical and civic engagement, defending inquiry and speech without succumbing to fear or political pressure. It can extend support to vulnerable communities, promote critical thinking about the domestic roots of political violence and the consequences of U.S. foreign policy, and foster ethical reflection that counters the normalization of aggression. Silence or passivity risks complicity. Universities must recognize that the threats affecting campuses, alumni, and students are interconnected with broader systems of power and oppression, both domestic and global.

From the White House ambush to Charlie Kirk’s assassination, from the Minnesota legislators’ murders to the Manhattan mass shooting, from Luigi Mangione’s high-profile killing to systemic violence enforced through ICE and police overreach, and amid the influence of incendiary political rhetoric and U.S. complicity in violence abroad, the United States is experiencing an unprecedented convergence of domestic and international pressures. Higher education sits at the center of these converging forces, and how it responds will shape not only campus safety and academic freedom but also the broader civic health of the nation. The challenge is immense: to uphold democratic values, protect communities, and educate students in a society increasingly defined by fear, extremism, and violence.

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Sources

Reuters. “FBI probes gunman’s motives in ambush shooting of Guardsmen near White House.” The Guardian. Coverage on suspect identification and political reaction. AP News. Statements by national leaders following attacks. Washington Post. Analysis of domestic violent extremism and political violence trends. People Magazine. Reporting on Minnesota legislator assassination. NBC/AP. Statements by Gov. Josh Shapiro after Charlie Kirk’s killing. Utah Valley University and local ABC/Fox affiliates on the Kirk shooting. Jewish Journal, ABC7NY. Coverage of Manhattan mass shooting and Jewish victims. Reuters. Luigi Mangione case and court proceedings. Human Rights Watch / Amnesty International reports on Palestine, Venezuela, UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Russia. Brookings Institute. Analysis of political violence and domestic extremism. CSIS. “Domestic Extremism and Political Violence in the United States.”

Leonard Peltier: National Day of Mourning Address, 2025

National Day of Mourning: Higher Education’s Long Reckoning With Indigenous Oppression

[Editor's note: United American Indians of New England host the National Day of Mourning. Their website is at United American Indians of New England - UAINE.]

Each November, while much of the United States celebrates Thanksgiving, Indigenous communities and their allies gather in Plymouth, Massachusetts, and across the country for the National Day of Mourning. It is a day that confronts the mythology of national innocence and replaces it with historical clarity. For Higher Education Inquirer, the significance of this day extends directly into the heart of American higher education—a system built, in no small part, on the expropriation of Indigenous land, the exploitation of Native Peoples, and the continued structural racism that shapes their educational opportunities today.

From the earliest colonial colleges to the flagship research institutions of the twenty-first century, U.S. higher education has never been separate from the project of settler colonialism. It has been one of its instruments.

Land, Wealth, and the Origins of the University

America’s oldest colleges—Harvard, Yale, William & Mary, Dartmouth—were founded within the colonial order that dispossessed Indigenous communities. While missionary language framed some of these institutions’ early purposes, they operated through an extractive logic: the seizure of land, the conversion of cultural worlds, and, eventually, the accumulation of immense academic wealth.

The Morrill Land-Grant Acts of 1862 and 1890 expanded this pattern on a national scale. Recent research documented by the “Land-Grab Universities” project shows that nearly eleven million acres of Indigenous land—taken through coercive treaties, forced removal, or outright theft—were funneled into endowments for public universities. Students today walk across campuses financed by displacements their own institutions have yet to fully acknowledge, let alone remedy.

Higher Education as an Arm of Assimilation

The United States also used education as a tool for forced assimilation. The Indian boarding school system, with the Carlisle Industrial School as its model, operated in partnership with federal officials, church agencies, and academic institutions. Native children were taken from their families, stripped of their languages, and subjected to relentless cultural destruction.

Universities contributed research, training, and personnel to this system, embedding the logic of “civilizing” Indigenous Peoples into the academy’s structure. That legacy endures in curricula that minimize Indigenous knowledge systems and in institutional cultures that prize Eurocentric epistemologies as default.

Scientific Racism, Anthropology, and the Theft of Ancestors

American universities played a central role in producing scientific racism. Anthropologists and medical researchers collected Indigenous remains, objects, and sacred items without consent. Museums and university labs became repositories for thousands of ancestors—often obtained through grave robberies, military campaigns, or opportunistic scholarship.

The 1990 Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) was designed to force institutions to return ancestors and cultural patrimony. Yet decades later, many universities are still out of compliance, delaying repatriation while continuing to benefit from the research collections they amassed through violence.

Contemporary Structural Racism in Higher Education

The oppression is not confined to history. Structural racism continues to constrain Native Peoples in higher education today.

Native students remain among the most underrepresented and under-supported groups on American campuses. Chronic underfunding of Tribal Colleges and Universities (TCUs) reflects a broader political disregard for Indigenous sovereignty and self-determination. Meanwhile, elite institutions recruit Native students for marketing purposes while failing to invest in retention, community support, or Indigenous faculty hiring.

Some universities have begun implementing land acknowledgments, but these symbolic gestures have little impact when institutions refuse to confront their material obligations: returning land, committing long-term funding to Indigenous programs, or restructuring governance to include tribal representatives.

What a Real Reckoning Would Require

A genuine response to the National Day of Mourning would require far more than statements of solidarity. It would involve confronting the ways American higher education continues to profit from dispossession and the ways Native students continue to bear disproportionate burdens—from tuition to cultural isolation to the racist violence that still occurs on and around campuses.

Real accountability would include:

• Full compliance with NAGPRA and expedited repatriation.
• Transparent reporting of land-grant wealth and the return or shared governance of those lands.
• Stable, meaningful funding for TCUs.
• Hiring, tenure, and research policies that center Indigenous scholarship and sovereignty.
• Long-term institutional commitments—financial, curricular, and political—to Indigenous communities.

These steps require institutions to shift from performative recognition to structural transformation.

A Day of Mourning—And a Call to Action

The National Day of Mourning is not merely a counter-holiday. It is a reminder that the United States was founded on violence against Native Peoples—and that its colleges and universities were not passive beneficiaries but active participants in that violence.

For higher education leaders, faculty, and students, the question is no longer whether these histories are real or whether they matter. They are documented. They are ongoing. They matter profoundly.

The real question is what institutions are willing to give up—land, power, wealth, or narrative control—to support Indigenous liberation.

On this National Day of Mourning, HEI honors the truth that Indigenous survival is an act of resistance, and Indigenous sovereignty is not a symbolic aspiration but an overdue demand. The future of higher education must move through that truth, not around it.

Sources
Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States.
The Land-Grab Universities Project (High Country News & Land-Grab Universities database).
David Treuer, The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee.
Margaret D. Jacobs, A Generation Removed: The Fostering and Adoption of Indigenous Children in the Postwar World.
NAGPRA regulations and compliance reports.

Chancellor Tade Oyerinde's Congressional Testimony on Campus & Higher Ed (Campus.edu)

 

Erika Kirk’s Advice on Motherhood Raises Questions About Liberty University’s Online Degrees and Conservative Messaging

Erika Kirk, widow of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, has become the center of a storm after advising young women not to delay motherhood in pursuit of career ambitions. Her comments, made on The Megyn Kelly Show, were framed as a warning against prioritizing education or professional advancement over family. Yet Kirk herself pursued multiple degrees—including a Juris Master from Liberty University’s online program—before stepping into her current role as CEO of Turning Point USA.

The controversy exposes a deeper tension between higher education, conservative cultural messaging, and the lived experiences of public figures. Liberty University, where Kirk earned her advanced degree, has built one of the largest online education platforms in the country. It markets these programs as rigorous, flexible, and empowering for working adults, particularly women who balance professional and family responsibilities. Kirk’s own enrollment and completion of the program demonstrate the value of such opportunities. But her public advice now discourages younger women from following a similar path, raising questions about whether her message undermines the very educational model she benefited from.

Critics argue that Kirk’s remarks reflect a broader pattern in conservative circles: leaders who leverage higher education and professional networks to build influence, while prescribing traditional gender roles to the broader public. This double standard is particularly visible in faith-based institutions like Liberty, which promote academic achievement while simultaneously reinforcing cultural narratives that prioritize early marriage and motherhood. The contradiction is stark—Kirk’s advanced degree bolstered her credibility, yet she now suggests that women should subordinate similar ambitions to family life.

For higher education observers, the issue is not simply Kirk’s personal hypocrisy but the institutional dynamics at play. Liberty University profits from the demand for online graduate education, especially among women seeking advancement. At the same time, its alumni and affiliated figures often promote messages that diminish the importance of those very opportunities. This tension raises critical questions: How does Liberty reconcile its role as a provider of advanced education with the cultural messaging of its graduates? Does the institution benefit from women’s enrollment while tolerating rhetoric that discourages others from pursuing the same path?

The Erika Kirk controversy is more than a cultural flashpoint. It is a case study in how higher education intersects with politics, religion, and gender expectations. It highlights the contradictions between institutional marketing and alumni messaging, and it underscores the need for scrutiny of how universities—especially those with strong ideological identities—shape and are shaped by the public figures they produce.

Sources:

• Yahoo News – Erika Kirk Under Fire Over Pregnancy Remark

• MSN – Erika Kirk Dubbed a Hypocrite Over Pregnancy Advice

• AOL – Erika Kirk Tells Megyn Kelly She Prayed She Was Pregnant

• Mediaite – Erika Kirk Reveals She Was Praying to God She Was Pregnant

• Factually – Erika Kirk’s Education Background

The Secret and Tragic World of Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is a man whose name carries the weight of one of America’s most storied political dynasties. Environmentalist, activist, author, and political figure, he has long cultivated a public image of intelligence, idealism, and reform-minded zeal. Yet behind this public persona lies a deeply troubled personal history marked by tragedy, accusations of sexual misconduct, and disturbing claims of animal cruelty. With his rise to the position of Secretary of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) in 2025, the stakes of this hidden history have grown far beyond family drama—they now intersect with public health, national science policy, and the higher education ecosystem.

Personal Tragedy and Allegations

Mary Richardson Kennedy, RFK Jr.’s second wife, died by suicide in May 2012. She was found with antidepressants in her system but no alcohol. At the time, the couple was separated, embroiled in a bitter divorce. Later-revealed documents suggest that Mary Richardson described her husband as a “sexual deviant,” alleging prescription-drug abuse and psychological manipulation, including gaslighting. She claimed he secretly recorded more than 60 phone conversations and maintained diaries documenting extramarital relationships. What may have seemed private marital discord became serious allegations of betrayal, manipulation, and emotional trauma.

In 2024, Eliza Cooney, a former live-in babysitter for the Kennedy children, publicly accused Kennedy of sexually assaulting her in the late 1990s. She described multiple incidents, including groping in a pantry, appearing shirtless in her bedroom, and being asked to rub lotion on his back. Kennedy sent Cooney a text apologizing if he had made her feel uncomfortable, claiming he had no memory of the events. Publicly, he called the allegations “a lot of garbage,” framing them as part of a “rambunctious youth” while refusing to categorically deny the events. These allegations, alongside Mary Richardson’s claims, paint a portrait of private behavior in stark contrast to the public image Kennedy has long projected.

Claims of animal cruelty have also surfaced. A 2010 photograph published in media outlets shows Kennedy with what appears to be a charred animal carcass. While Kennedy claims it was a goat from a Patagonia camping trip, a veterinarian quoted in the press suggested it could be a dog. Fact-checkers cannot conclusively identify the animal, yet the image, whether misinterpreted or not, is troubling in the context of someone who has publicly championed environmental and public health causes.

Ascension to HHS and Early Decisions

In February 2025, Kennedy was sworn in as Secretary of HHS, instantly gaining authority over national health policy, agency staffing, and public health programs. His tenure has been marked by swift, controversial moves. Kennedy launched the “Make America Healthy Again” (MAHA) commission, aiming to address chronic disease and childhood illness, with a focus on prevention and environmental health. He has emphasized removing conflicts of interest from advisory committees, arguing that existing members often have ties to pharmaceutical companies.

Kennedy’s tenure has also included a sweeping reorganization of HHS, consolidating its 28 divisions into 15, centralizing administrative functions, and cutting staff from roughly 82,000 to 62,000 in pursuit of $1.8 billion in annual savings. He has defended these changes as necessary to streamline operations and focus on environmental toxicity, clean water, and healthy food, while critics warn they could weaken public health infrastructure and reduce oversight. Perhaps most controversially, Kennedy has moved to eliminate the long-standing practice of public comment on many HHS decisions. Other early actions have included removing expert members from CDC vaccine advisory committees and revising CDC guidance on autism and vaccines in ways aligned with Kennedy’s previously expressed views.

Higher Education and Kennedy’s Influence

Kennedy’s connection to higher education is both personal and institutional. He attended Harvard College, graduating in 1976 with a degree in American history and literature, and went on to earn a Juris Doctor from the University of Virginia School of Law in 1982. While he has no formal scientific or medical degree, his public role as HHS Secretary gives him authority over federal research funding, grants, and university partnerships.

Since taking office, Kennedy has influenced HHS grants to universities, particularly those focused on public health, environmental research, and childhood disease prevention. Reports indicate he has prioritized funding for schools conducting research aligned with his personal priorities, such as environmental toxicity, vaccine alternatives, and holistic health programs. Critics argue this approach risks politicizing federal funding, favoring institutions that align with his beliefs while disadvantaging traditional biomedical research programs. Some universities have reportedly altered research agendas to secure or maintain grants under Kennedy’s administration, raising concerns about academic independence.

Kennedy’s educational background, combined with his control over grants and research priorities, illustrates how personal ideology and public policy intersect with higher education. It underscores the stakes for universities, faculty, and students: research funding decisions now operate in a landscape influenced by a leader whose private life is controversial and whose professional philosophy challenges established scientific norms.

The Interplay of History, Power, and Trust

The combination of Kennedy’s personal controversies, his public health authority, and his influence on higher education presents a complex portrait of power, legacy, and trust. Allegations from Mary Richardson Kennedy and Eliza Cooney, along with the animal cruelty claims, raise questions about judgment, ethics, and personal responsibility. Now, those questions carry weight far beyond private circles—they intersect with national public health, scientific research, and the education of future professionals.

The public often sees only the polished exterior: speeches, causes, charisma. In Kennedy’s case, the hidden world includes tragic suicide, allegations of sexual misconduct, and disturbing claims regarding animals. These shadows, now coupled with sweeping policy authority and influence over universities, underscore the importance of scrutinizing both character and action. Leadership in public health and science funding is not solely about vision or ambition—it requires judgment, transparency, and accountability.

What Kennedy does next will not just define his legacy; it will shape the health, safety, and education of the country he now serves. For advocates of transparency, survivors of abuse, academic researchers, and public health professionals, watching closely is not optional—it is a civic imperative.

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Sources

Vanity Fair. “RFK Jr.’s Family Doesn’t Want Him to Run. Even They May Not Know His Darkest Secrets.” 2024. https://www.vanityfair.com/news/story/robert-kennedy-jr-shocking-history

New York Post. “Mary Kennedy Accuses Ex-Husband RFK Jr. of Being 'Sexual Deviant' and 'Gaslighting' from Beyond the Grave.” 2025. https://nypost.com/2025/01/29/us-news/rfk-jrs-late-wife-accused-him-of-being-sexual-deviant-addict/

Reuters. “Woman Who Accused RFK Jr. of Sexual Assault Says He Apologized by Text.” 2024. https://www.reuters.com/world/us/woman-who-accused-rfk-jr-sexual-assault-says-he-apologized-by-text-2024-07-12/

Forbes. “RFK Jr. Calls Report Alleging He Sexually Assaulted His Children’s Nanny and Ate a Dog ‘A Lot of Garbage.’” 2024. https://www.forbes.com/sites/siladityaray/2024/07/03/rfk-jr-calls-report-alleging-he-sexually-assaulted-his-childrens-nanny-and-ate-a-dog-a-lot-of-garbage/

WRAL. “RFK Jr. Denies Eating a Dog While Sidestepping Sexual Assault Allegations in Vanity Fair Article.” 2024. https://www.wral.com/story/rfk-jr-denies-eating-a-dog-while-sidestepping-sexual-assault-allegations-in-vanity-fair-article/21508133/

AP News. “RFK Jr. Made Promises About Vaccines. Here's What He's Done as Health Secretary.” 2025. https://apnews.com/article/d1ad570053583d953f15ec3e566e426f

Reuters. “Kennedy Proposes Ending Public Comment on HHS Decisions.” 2025. https://www.reuters.com/business/healthcare-pharmaceuticals/kennedy-proposes-ending-public-comment-hhs-decisions-2025-02-28/

Time. “What to Know About RFK Jr. Removing All Experts From CDC Vaccine Advisory Committee.” 2025. https://time.com/7292553/rfk-jr-removes-cdc-vaccine-committee-experts/

HHS.gov. “Make America Healthy Again Commission Launch.” 2025. https://www.hhs.gov/press-room/eo-maha.html

Extending Gainful Employment to All Institutions—Without Diluting Its Urgent Purpose

The debate over Gainful Employment (GE) regulations is once again heating up, and as usual, the loudest noise doesn’t come from the students who have been harmed, but from the institutions and lobbyists who fear accountability. The GE rule—originally crafted to curb abuses in the for-profit sector—evaluates whether programs leave their students with earnings high enough to reasonably repay the loans pushed onto them. It is, at its core, a consumer-protection regulation intended to protect the people higher education is supposed to serve.

A growing chorus now argues that Gainful Employment should apply to all types of schools, not just vocational programs and for-profit institutions. In principle, that argument is not wrong. Accountability should not be selective. Tuition-driven public universities, prestige-obsessed private nonprofits, elite medical centers with shadowy revenue streams, religious institutions, and wealthy flagships all participate in federal student aid programs. They all receive taxpayer money. They all should have to answer the question: Do your students earn enough to justify the debt you load onto them?

But here is where the trap lies. Expanding GE to all institutions should not become a tactic to delay, dilute, or derail Gainful Employment’s implementation. Too often, calls for “fairness” mask efforts by industry groups and establishment-aligned lobbyists to sidestep regulation altogether. The for-profit sector has used this move for more than a decade. When faced with sanctions after years of deceptive recruiting, falsified job-placement rates, and sky-high default rates, the response was always: “Why us? If GE is good policy, make everyone do it.” It is a clever pivot—not toward accountability, but away from it.

The Department of Education has long understood where the worst abuses lie. Corinthian Colleges, ITT Tech, Education Management Corporation, Career Education Corporation, and dozens more left hundreds of thousands of borrowers financially ruined. Many of these systems were sustained by federal aid despite evidence of fraud; many operated with political cover provided by well-paid lobbyists and deregulation-friendly lawmakers. GE was designed to stop the bleeding—to prevent an industry already steeped in predation from reinventing itself yet again.

Extending GE to all institutions is a worthy goal, but the immediate necessity is to enforce the rule where the risks are greatest. The fact that certain nonprofit and public institutions also produce poor outcomes does not negate the catastrophic harm of the for-profit sector. It simply means that any expansion of GE must follow, not precede, robust implementation.

Moreover, GE should be understood in the broader context of how the higher education finance system evolved. For decades, policymakers outsourced accountability to market forces—encouraging tuition hikes, aggressive lending through the FFEL program, and eventually the widespread securitization of student debt. When cracks began to show in the 1990s and 2000s, the establishment response was not structural reform but technical tinkering. GE was one of the first serious attempts to measure whether federally funded education delivered an actual public benefit. That is precisely why it has been so aggressively contested.

And the truth is, higher education’s accountability debate has always been a history of delay. Institutions insist they need “more data,” “more nuance,” “more consultation,” or “more time,” even as predatory practices continue to metastasize. Expanding GE is necessary. But using expansion as a pretext to stall action only reinforces a system where institutions externalize risk and students internalize debt.

What students and taxpayers deserve today is twofold:
First, a strong GE rule applied immediately to the programs with the highest risk of abuse.
Second, a parallel policy process—transparent, public, and insulated from institutional lobbying—to develop an expansion of GE-style metrics across all schools.

This is not an either-or choice. It is a matter of sequencing and political honesty.

If higher education leaders want GE applied to everyone, they should welcome its implementation in the sectors with the longest record of fraud. If lawmakers want accountability to be universal, they should commit to expanding the regulation—after the current version is enforced, not instead of it. And if critics want fairness, they should start by acknowledging the vast inequities that made GE necessary in the first place.

We cannot pretend that all institutions pose equal risk. But neither can we pretend that only one sector deserves scrutiny. The student debt crisis—forty years in the making—demands real enforcement today and a broader structural fix tomorrow.

Anything less is not reform. It is evasion.

Sources
U.S. Department of Education, Gainful Employment Rulemaking Documentation
Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed: The Troubling Rise of For-Profit Colleges
Ben Miller, “Asleep at the Switch: How the Department of Education Failed to Police the For-Profit College Industry,” Center for American Progress
Jordan Matsudaira, research on postsecondary accountability metrics
The Century Foundation, reports on proprietary higher education and oversight failures

Penn Graduate Students (GET-UP) Authorize Strike as Contract Talks Falter

Graduate student workers at Penn have overwhelmingly authorized a strike — a decisive move in their fight for fair pay, stronger benefits, and comprehensive protections. The vote reflects not only deep frustration with stalled negotiations but also the growing momentum of graduate-worker organizing nationwide.

A year of bargaining — and growing frustration

Since winning union recognition in May 2024, GET‑UP has spent over a year negotiating with Penn administrators on their first collective-bargaining agreement. Despite 35 bargaining sessions and tentative agreements on several non-economic issues, key demands — especially around compensation, benefits, and protections for international students — remain unmet.

Many observers see the strike authorization as long overdue. “After repeated delays and insulting offers, this was the only way to signal our seriousness,” said a member of the bargaining committee. Support for the strike among graduate workers is overwhelmingly strong, reflecting a shared determination to secure livable wages and protections commensurate with the vital labor they provide.

Strike authorization: a powerful tool

From Nov. 18–20, GET‑UP conducted a secret-ballot vote open to roughly 3,400 eligible graduate employees. About two-thirds voted, and 92% of votes cast authorized a strike, giving the union discretion to halt academic work at a moment’s notice.

Striking graduate workers, many of whom serve as teaching or research assistants, would withhold all academic labor — including teaching, grading, and research — until a contract with acceptable terms is reached. Penn has drafted “continuity plans” for instruction in the event of a strike, which union organizers have criticized as strikebreaking.

Demands: beyond a stipend increase

GET‑UP’s contract demands include:

• A living wage for graduate workers

• Expanded benefits: health, vision, dental, dependent coverage

• Childcare support and retirement contributions

• Protections for international and immigrant students

• Strong anti-discrimination, harassment, and inclusive-pronoun / gender-neutral restroom protections

While Penn has agreed to some non-economic protections, many critical provisions remain unresolved. The stakes are high: graduate workers form the backbone of research and teaching at the university, yet many struggle to survive on modest stipends.

Context: a national wave of UAW wins

Penn’s graduate workers are part of a broader wave of successful organizing by the United Auto Workers (UAW) and allied graduate unions. Recent years have seen UAW-affiliated graduate-worker locals achieve significant victories at institutions including Cornell, Columbia, Harvard, Northwestern, and across the University of California (UC) system.

At UC, a massive systemwide strike in 2022–2023 involving tens of thousands of Graduate Student Researchers (GSRs) and Academic Student Employees (ASEs) secured three-year contracts with major gains:

• Wage increases of 55–80% over prior levels, establishing a livable baseline salary.

• Expanded health and dependent coverage, childcare subsidies, paid family leave, and fee remission.

• Stronger protections against harassment, improved disability accommodations, and support for international student workers.

• Consolidation of bargaining units across ASEs and GSRs, strengthening long-term collective power.

These gains demonstrate that even large, resource-rich institutions can be compelled to recognize graduate labor as essential, and to provide fair compensation and protections. They also show that coordinated, determined action — including strike authorization — can yield significant, lasting change.

What’s next

With strike authorization in hand, GET‑UP holds a powerful bargaining tool. While a strike remains a last resort, the overwhelming support among members signals that the union is prepared to act decisively to secure a fair contract. The UC precedent, along with wins at other UAW graduate-worker locals, suggests that Penn could follow the same path, translating student-worker momentum into meaningful, tangible improvements.

The outcome could have major implications not just for Penn, but for graduate-worker organizing across the country — reinforcing that organized graduate labor is increasingly a central force in higher education.

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Sources

• Penn graduate workers union authorizes strike vote

• Ongoing contract negotiations at Penn

• AAUP-Penn denounces university “strikebreaking” memo

• Bargaining updates for graduate workers

• UC graduate workers end strike with historic three-year contract

• Liberation News: UC Academic Workers Win Historic Contracts

Higher Education and Its Complicity in U.S. Empire

For more than a century, U.S. higher education has been intertwined with American empire. Universities have served as ideological partners, intelligence hubs, policy workshops, and training grounds for the managers of U.S. global power. When Washington supports authoritarian allies, fuels regional conflicts, or looks away during humanitarian disasters, the academy rarely stands apart. Instead, it aligns itself—through silence, research partnerships, and selective outrage—with the priorities of the federal government and the corporations that profit from U.S. foreign policy.

Recent U.S. actions in Venezuela, Ukraine, Yemen, South Sudan, and Palestine reveal how deeply embedded this pattern has become.

In Venezuela, the United States pursued years of sanctions, covert pressure, and diplomatic isolation as part of a regime-change strategy. Throughout this period, universities repeated a narrow range of policy narratives promoted by the State Department and U.S.-aligned think tanks. Panels and conferences elevated experts connected to defense contractors, oil interests, and government-funded NGOs, while the humanitarian consequences of sanctions and the legality of U.S. interference were often ignored. The atmosphere of academic neutrality masked a clear alignment with Washington’s objectives.

Universities also showed a troubling degree of complicity during Russia’s assault on Ukraine, a war marked by the systematic killing of civilians, mass displacement, and the kidnapping and forced transfer of Ukrainian children into Russia. Even after international human rights organizations and war-crimes investigators documented atrocities, some U.S. institutions maintained partnerships with Russian universities aligned with the Kremlin, accepted visiting scholars linked to state propaganda outlets, or avoided direct condemnation of Putin’s actions for fear of disrupting scientific or financial relationships. In certain cases, academic centers framed the invasion as a “complex geopolitical dispute” rather than a brutal, unilateral attack on a sovereign population, allowing Russian narratives about NATO, Western “provocation,” or Ukrainian illegitimacy to seep into public programming. While some campuses cut ties, others hesitated, revealing how financial incentives, research networks, and institutional caution can blunt moral clarity even in the face of internationally verified crimes against civilians and children.

Higher education’s relationship with the Gulf states adds another dimension to this complicity. As Saudi Arabia waged a catastrophic war in Yemen—with U.S. weapons, logistical support, and diplomatic protection—American universities deepened their financial partnerships with Saudi and Emirati institutions. Engineering programs, medical schools, cybersecurity labs, and energy research centers accepted major gifts and expanded joint research agreements. Few leaders questioned these ties, even as human rights groups documented atrocities in Yemen or as the UAE’s role in proxy conflicts, including episodes in South Sudan, came into sharper focus. Protecting revenue streams took precedence over confronting abuses committed by powerful allies.

Nowhere is the failure of higher education more visible than in its response to Israel’s assault on Gaza. As civilian deaths soared and international human rights organizations sounded alarms about the scale and intent of the military campaign, most universities responded with repression rather than reflection. Administrators disciplined student protesters, sanctioned faculty for political speech, and issued public statements carefully aligned with prevailing U.S. political positions. Research partnerships with Israeli institutions linked to defense industries persisted without scrutiny. Universities that once examined apartheid with clarity struggled to acknowledge parallels when the subject was Palestine. Donor sensitivities, political pressures, and fear of congressional retaliation overwhelmed any commitment to moral consistency or academic freedom.

The same institutional behavior is likely if U.S. policy shifts in East Asia. Should Washington move toward accommodating the People’s Republic of China’s ambitions regarding Taiwan—whether through diplomatic recalibration or reduced willingness to intervene—universities will likely adapt quickly. The history of U.S.-China normalization in the 1970s showed how fast higher education can reorient itself when geopolitical winds change. Partnerships, narratives, and research agendas would shift to align with new federal signals, demonstrating again that universities follow the imperatives of state power more readily than they challenge them.

The deeper issue is structural. U.S. higher education relies on federal research funding, defense and intelligence partnerships, corporate relationships, overseas investment programs, and philanthropic networks shaped by geopolitical interests. Endowments are tied to global markets that profit from conflict. Study-abroad and academic exchange programs depend on diplomatic priorities. Administrators understand that openly challenging U.S. foreign policy—from Venezuela to Ukraine, from Yemen to Gaza—can threaten institutional stability and funding. Silence or selective engagement becomes the safest administrative posture.

If the academy hopes to reclaim its integrity, it must learn to confront rather than replicate state power. That requires transparency about foreign funding and defense contracts, protection for dissenting scholars and students, genuine engagement with global South perspectives, and ethical evaluation of partnerships with authoritarian governments. Universities cannot prevent wars, but they can refuse to serve as intellectual and financial enablers of violence.

Until such changes occur, higher education will remain entangled in the machinery of U.S. empire, complicit not through passivity but through the routine normalization of policies that inflict suffering around the world.

 
Sources

Amnesty International; Human Rights Watch; United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs; U.S. Congressional Research Service; Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft; Brown University’s Costs of War Project; Washington Post and New York Times reporting on U.S. sanctions and foreign policy; Investigations by the Associated Press, Reuters, and Al Jazeera on Yemen, Gaza, Venezuela, and South Sudan; HEI archives and independent higher education researchers.