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In the halls of Washington, a familiar Cold War-era phrase has returned with renewed urgency: “guns versus butter.” But in 2025, the metaphor isn't academic—it’s reality. With the Trump administration's proposed FY2026 budget increasing defense spending to an unprecedented $1.01 trillion, educators, students, and policy advocates are warning that the nation’s commitment to higher education is being eroded at its foundation.
The proposed 13.4 percent increase in military spending includes massive investments in nuclear modernization, missile defense systems, and cyberwarfare infrastructure. Meanwhile, funding for federal student aid, university research, and college readiness programs remains stagnant or faces outright reductions. Pell Grants are flat-funded, leaving them far behind tuition inflation. Federal Work-Study allocations drop by 8 percent, limiting opportunities for low-income students. The Public Service Loan Forgiveness program is on the chopping block entirely.
“The message is loud and clear,” said Dr. Nina Delgado, a policy analyst at the Center for Postsecondary Equity. “We can afford another missile silo, but not math tutoring for first-generation college students.”
From regional public colleges to minority-serving institutions, campuses already suffering from years of austerity face even deeper crises. With state and federal support shrinking, tuition continues its unrelenting climb—fueling debt and pushing higher education out of reach for millions. Over 100 colleges—many of them rural or under-resourced—are on the brink of closure. Faculty layoffs and hiring freezes are becoming the norm, especially in the humanities. Community colleges, a key engine for workforce training, are operating at a deficit in 27 states.
Supporters of the military expansion argue that defense is a prerequisite for national security. But critics counter that America’s long-term strength lies in knowledge, innovation, and human capital—assets developed not in weapons labs, but in classrooms. “You can’t bomb your way to a competitive economy,” said Jason Rahim, a University of Vermont economics professor. “We’re starving the very institutions that fuel research, educate workers, and foster democratic thinking.”
As the U.S. crosses the $1 trillion defense spending threshold, the nation’s crumbling lecture halls and shuttered library doors tell a different story—one where the greatest threats to national security may not be foreign adversaries, but domestic neglect. Until Congress reinvests in the public good—particularly in equitable, accessible higher education—America may find itself armed to the teeth but intellectually disarmed.
Friends,
One of my objectives in this daily letter is to equip you with the facts you need. As the Senate approaches a vote on Trump’s giant “big beautiful” tax and budget bill, I want to be as clear as possible about it.
First, it will cost a budget-busting $3.3 trillion. According to new estimates by the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office, the Senate bill would add at least $3.3 trillion to the already out-of-control national debt over a decade. That’s nearly $1 trillion more than the House-passed version.
Second, it will cause 11.8 million Americans to lose their health coverage. The Senate version would result in even deeper cuts in federal support for health insurance, and more Americans losing coverage, than the House version. Federal spending on Medicaid, Medicare, and Obamacare would be reduced by more than $1.1 trillion over that period — with more than $1 trillion of those cuts coming from Medicaid alone.
All told, this will leave 11.8 million more Americans uninsured by 2034.
Third, it will cut food stamps and other nutrition assistance for lower-income Americans. According to the CBO, the legislation will not only cut Medicaid by about 18 percent, it will cut Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (food stamps) by roughly 20 percent. These cuts will constitute the most dramatic reductions in safety net spending in modern U.S. history.
Fourth, it will overwhelmingly benefit the rich and big corporations. The CBO projects that those in the bottom tenth of the income distribution will end up poorer, while the top tenth will be substantially richer.
The bill also makes permanent the business tax cuts from the 2017 legislation, further benefiting the largest corporations.
Finally, it will not help the economy. Trickle-down economics has proven to be a cruel hoax. Over the last 50 years, Congress has passed four major bills that cut taxes: the 1981 Reagan tax cuts; the 2001 and 2003 George W. Bush tax cuts; and the 2017 Trump tax cuts. Each time, the same three arguments were made in favor of the tax cuts: (1) They’d pay for themselves. (2) They’d supercharge economic growth. (3) They’d benefit everyone.
All have been proven wrong. Here’s what in fact happened:
(1) Did the tax cuts pay for themselves?
No. Rather than paying for themselves, the Reagan, Bush, and Trump tax cuts each significantly increased the federal deficit. In total, those tax cuts have added over $10.4 trillion to the federal deficit since 1981 compared to the Congressional Budget Office’s baseline projections.
(2) Did the tax cuts supercharge economic growth, create millions of jobs, and raise wages?
Absolutely not. Rather than growing, the economy shrank after passage of the Reagan tax cuts. And unemployment surged to over 10 percent. Following the enactment of the Bush and Trump tax cuts, the economy did grow a bit, but at rates much lower than their supporters predicted.
(3) Did the tax cuts benefit everyone?
Heavens, no. Rather than benefiting everyone, the savings from the Reagan, Bush, and Trump tax cuts flowed mainly to the richest Americans. The average tax cut for households in the top 1 percent under the Reagan tax cut ($47,147) was 68 times larger than the average tax cut for middle-class households ($695). The Bush tax cut for households in the top 1 percent was 16 times larger than the average tax cut for the middle class. The 2017 Trump tax cut for households in the top 1 percent was 36 times larger than for middle-class households.
Summary: If the bill now being considered by the Senate is enacted, 11.8 million Americans will lose their health insurance, millions will fall into poverty, and the national debt will increase by $3.3 trillion, all to provide a major tax cut mainly to the rich and big corporations. There is no justification for this.
Never before in the history of this nation has such a large redistribution of income been directed upward, for no reason at all. It comes at a time of near-record inequalities of income and wealth.
What you can do: Call your senators and tell them to vote “no” on this calamitous tax and budget bill. Congressional switchboard: (202) 224-3121.
Beyond this, help ensure that senators who vote in favor of this monstrosity are booted out of the Senate as soon as they’re up for reelection.
So glad you can be here today. Please consider becoming a paid subscriber of this community so we can do even more.
Maximus Inc., the parent company of federal student loan servicer Aidvantage, is facing growing financial and existential threats as the Trump administration completes a radical budget proposal that would slash Medicaid by hundreds of billions of dollars and cut the U.S. Department of Education in half. These proposed changes could gut the very federal contracts that have fueled Maximus's revenue and investor confidence over the last two decades. Once seen as a steady player in the outsourcing of public services, Maximus now stands at the edge of a political and technological cliff.
The proposed Trump budget includes a plan to eliminate the Office of Federal Student Aid and transfer the $1.6 trillion federal student loan portfolio to the Small Business Administration. This proposed restructuring would remove Aidvantage and other servicers from their current roles, replacing them with yet-unnamed alternatives. While Maximus has profited enormously from servicing loans through Aidvantage—one of the major federal loan servicers—it is unclear whether the company has any role in this new Trump-led student loan regime. The SBA, which lacks experience managing consumer lending and repayment infrastructure, could subcontract to politically favored firms or simply allow artificial intelligence to replace human collectors altogether.
This possibility is not far-fetched. A 2023 study by Yale Insights explored how AI systems are already outperforming human debt collectors in efficiency, compliance, and scalability. The report examined the growing use of bots to handle borrower communication, account resolution, and payment tracking. These developments could render Maximus’s human-heavy servicing model obsolete. If the federal government shifts toward automated collection, it could bypass Maximus entirely, either through privatized tech-driven firms or through internal platforms that require fewer labor-intensive contracts.
On the health and human services side of the business, Maximus is also exposed. The company has long served as a contractor for Medicaid programs across several states, managing call centers and eligibility support. But with Medicaid facing potentially devastating cuts in the proposed Trump budget, Maximus’s largest and most stable contracts could disappear. The company’s TES-RCM division has already shown signs of unraveling, with anonymous reports suggesting a steep drop-off in clients and the departure of long-time employees. One insider claimed, “Customers are dropping like flies as are longtime employees. Not enough people to do the little work we have.”
Remote Maximus employees are also reporting layoffs and instability, particularly in Iowa, where 34 remote workers were terminated after two decades of contract work on state Medicaid programs. Anxiety is spreading across internal forums and layoff boards, as workers fear they may soon be out of a job in a shrinking and increasingly automated industry. Posts on TheLayoff.com and in investor forums indicate growing unease about the company’s long-term viability, particularly in light of the federal budget priorities now taking shape in Washington.
While Maximus stock (MMS) continues to trade with relative strength and still appears profitable on paper, it is increasingly reliant on government spending that may no longer exist under a Trump administration intent on dismantling large parts of the federal bureaucracy. If student loan servicing is eliminated, transferred, or automated, and Medicaid contracts dry up due to funding cuts, Maximus could lose two of its biggest revenue streams in a matter of months. The company’s contract with the Department of Education, once seen as a long-term asset, may become a political liability in a system being restructured to reward loyalty and reduce regulatory oversight.
The question now is not whether Maximus will be forced to downsize—it already is—but whether it will remain a relevant player in the new federal landscape at all. As artificial intelligence, austerity, and ideological realignment converge, Maximus may be remembered less for its dominance and more for how quickly it became unnecessary.
The Higher Education Inquirer will continue tracking developments affecting federal student loan servicers, government contractors, and the broader collapse of the administrative state.
In the modern United States, reproductive politics reveal stark ideological divides, but both the right and the left have histories rooted in controlling human reproduction—often to serve the interests of power. Whether framed as “pro-natalist” family values or “pro-choice” empowerment, these approaches have frequently masked deeper agendas tied to class, race, and social engineering. As the political center collapses, reproductive ideology continues to play a key role in shaping American society, often with lasting consequences for working-class families and marginalized groups.
Contemporary right-wing natalist movements promote traditional family structures, religious values, and demographic anxieties. Often rooted in white Christian nationalism, this ideology champions increased birth rates among "desirable" populations—namely white, middle-class families—while condemning abortion, birth control, and non-traditional family arrangements. Political figures like J.D. Vance and media figures such as Tucker Carlson have echoed fears of “population collapse,” blaming feminism and liberalism for declining birthrates.
While overt eugenics is largely discredited, its influence persists. The right has shifted from scientific racism to cultural essentialism, but the underlying message remains: certain populations are seen as more valuable than others. Immigration restrictions, anti-abortion laws, and attacks on trans and queer rights are framed as moral issues but functionally serve to preserve a narrow vision of the American demographic future—white, heterosexual, and Christian.
Natalist rhetoric also intersects with state coercion. In states like Texas and Florida, reproductive restrictions disproportionately affect poor women and women of color, echoing older eugenic practices under a new guise. Mass incarceration, forced sterilization of incarcerated women (as recently as the 2010s in California), and limited access to maternal healthcare all suggest that control—not life—is the central concern.
Since the mid-20th century, overpopulation has been a dominant frame in global discourse. Books like The Population Bomb (1968) by Paul Ehrlich warned of mass starvation and environmental collapse due to unchecked population growth. These fears, while partly grounded in real ecological concerns, often served to justify draconian population control policies, particularly in the Global South.
In the U.S., overpopulation rhetoric was used to rationalize sterilization programs aimed at welfare recipients, disabled people, and communities of color. These efforts were framed as humanitarian or scientific, but they disproportionately targeted those deemed unproductive or undesirable by elites.
Today, overpopulation remains a contentious issue. On the right, it's often reframed as a problem of immigration and "replacement theory"—xenophobic ideas suggesting that white populations are being “outbred” by non-white groups. On the left, it's still tied to environmental collapse, but often without sufficient attention to the vastly unequal consumption patterns between the wealthy and the poor.
For college students, the overpopulation narrative intersects with rising eco-anxiety and economic precarity. Some students are choosing to remain child-free due to fears about climate change, resource scarcity, or financial instability. Yet this “choice” is not made in a vacuum—it is shaped by decades of messaging that human reproduction is a threat to planetary survival, even while corporations and elites continue to pollute without consequence.
The result is a generational bind: students are told to postpone or forgo family life for the greater good, even as they face mounting student debt, poor job prospects, and a degraded public sphere. The message is clear: the future is too bleak, too crowded, too uncertain—and it’s your responsibility not to make it worse.
College students—especially first-generation, low-income, or minority students—are caught between conflicting reproductive ideologies and economic realities. They are pressured to delay or avoid parenthood in order to complete their degrees, often while facing mounting debt and precarious living conditions.
Student parents—particularly single mothers—face enormous obstacles, from lack of campus childcare to inflexible class schedules and financial aid rules that penalize dependents. The unspoken message: reproduction and higher education are incompatible, unless one is wealthy enough to afford both.
At the same time, some conservative institutions and religious colleges promote pro-natalist ideologies, pressuring students—especially women—to embrace early motherhood and traditional family roles. In both cases, the student’s autonomy is sidelined by institutional agendas: either to create compliant future workers or to produce ideologically aligned citizens.
Public funding cuts, rising tuition, and the gig economy have made the promise of “upward mobility through education” increasingly hollow. For many, the decision to have a child while in college is less about personal freedom than about economic calculation—one shaped by the policies, ideologies, and silences of both the political left and right.
While the rhetoric differs—moral purity on the right, liberation on the left—both camps have historically supported forms of population management, often justified through appeals to science, economics, or national interest. Whether through coercive sterilizations or technocratic birth control initiatives, these policies have frequently dehumanized the very people they claim to help.
For the growing educated underclass—trapped between low-wage work and rising debt—the terrain of reproduction is fraught. On one side, there are calls to breed for the nation. On the other, offers of chemical and surgical solutions to economic despair. Neither speaks to the structural problems of inequality, environmental crisis, or a broken social contract.
A truly humane reproductive politics would begin with material support for families of all kinds—paid parental leave, universal healthcare, free childcare, and the end of punitive welfare systems. It would recognize that real choice requires real power: over time, bodies, labor, education, and futures.
Until then, both right-wing natalism and liberal reproductive policy risk reproducing old hierarchies under new names. They are less about life, liberty, or autonomy—and more about managing who gets to live, and under what conditions.
In the midst of economic uncertainty, demographic decline, and ballooning student debt, the U.S. Senate has introduced a 940-page spending and tax reconciliation bill—dubbed by some lawmakers as the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act.” But behind the political branding lies a sweeping blueprint for disinvestment in working-class Americans, especially in higher education. If passed, the bill would not only accelerate the ongoing College Meltdown—it would codify it.
At the heart of the bill is a deceptively simple change: redefining full-time college attendance from 12 credits per semester to 15 credits. This shift may sound technical, but its consequences are enormous.
According to the Congressional Budget Office and the National Association of Student Financial Aid Administrators (NASFAA), this new definition would result in more than 4.4 million Pell Grant recipients receiving either reduced aid or losing eligibility entirely. An estimated 1.4 million students—mostly community college attendees, part-time students, older learners, and single parents—could lose access to Pell Grants altogether.
In a nation already grappling with declining college enrollments and rising student attrition, these changes will likely push thousands more out of the system and close the door for many before they ever step into a classroom.
Higher education does not exist in a vacuum. The Senate bill proposes more than $930 billion in cuts to Medicaid over the next decade. These cuts come alongside the imposition of work requirements and cost-sharing mandates that will affect millions of low-income Americans—including a significant share of college students.
Many students depend on Medicaid for mental health support, primary care, and prescriptions. Others rely on SNAP to eat. Under the proposed legislation, these essential supports would be stripped from the very students who need them to persist in school.
A 2023 GAO report found that over 30 percent of U.S. college students experience food or housing insecurity. This bill doesn’t just ignore that crisis—it actively worsens it.
The federal Medicaid cuts would ripple through state budgets, forcing legislatures to make difficult decisions. In many cases, that will mean diverting funds away from public higher education systems.
Already under strain from declining enrollment and years of austerity, public colleges—especially regional universities and community colleges—would face even deeper cuts. The likely result: tuition increases, faculty layoffs, program closures, and the elimination of student services.
In effect, the bill shifts the cost burden of public education from the collective public to individual students and families, reinforcing a model of privatized risk and public abandonment.
In parallel with Pell Grant restrictions, the bill unwinds critical student loan protections put in place over the last five years. It reverses enhancements to Income-Driven Repayment (IDR) plans and proposes the elimination of Biden-era loan forgiveness programs.
These changes benefit the student loan servicing industry, which stands to profit from lengthened repayment timelines and reduced cancellation pathways. Meanwhile, borrowers—especially those from low-income backgrounds—are pushed deeper into long-term debt peonage.
For a generation already saddled with debt and entering a labor market rife with instability, the Senate bill amounts to a massive wealth transfer upward—from struggling students to banks and servicers.
The weakening of financial aid and public support creates fertile ground for low-cost, low-quality alternatives: online diploma mills, edtech credential vendors, and "robocolleges" that replace faculty with algorithms.
Without adequate Pell funding or public college access, desperate students will be more likely to fall into the traps of for-profit institutions and unaccredited providers that promise quick credentials—but often deliver worthless degrees and predatory loans.
This shift doesn’t just hurt students. It undermines the quality of the U.S. workforce, degrades academic labor, and cedes the future of education to automation and private equity.
Ultimately, the “One Big Beautiful Bill” cements a two-tiered higher education system: elite universities insulated by billion-dollar endowments, and a gutted public sector limping along under austerity, privatization, and surveillance.
It is no coincidence that these policies are being introduced as the population ages, racial and economic inequality deepens, and faith in democratic institutions erodes. Higher education, once framed as a ladder of mobility, is becoming a narrow gangplank—offering escape only to the few who can afford it.
The College Meltdown is no longer a slow decline. It’s being legislated into crisis.
If passed, the Senate’s 940-page bill would mark a turning point: a systemic dismantling of the supports that make higher education possible for working-class Americans. From financial aid to public health, from state colleges to community safety nets, the tools of educational access are being hollowed out by design.
And while elite donors and legislators continue to fund their own children's paths to Princeton and Stanford, millions of other Americans will be left out—again.
Sources:
NASFAA: Pell Grant Aid Analysis
Congressional Budget Office (CBO) Medicaid Cut Estimates
Inside Higher Ed: “Community Colleges Fear Pell Changes”
GAO Report: “Food and Housing Insecurity Among College Students”
Brookings Institution: “Cuts to the Social Safety Net and the Future of Higher Education”
On June 26th, the US Department of Education was brought to the Ninth District Court (and Judge Alsup) to show how many the Borrower Defense to Repayment cases that have been resolved per court order.
While we wait for a transcript of the latest episode of Sweet v McMahon, what we can tell you is that the Trump government continues to drag its feet in paying back debtors who have been defrauded.
According to Theresa Sweet:
“We really need Borrower Defense applicants included in both the full and post class of Sweet to send any denials to the Project on Predatory Student Lending. It’s important for the legal team to be able to track this and make sure there are no patterns of boilerplate denials or mass denials. It’s also really important to remember that if a Sweet class or post class member gets a denial it should include a Revise and Resubmit notice, which *must* be resubmitted on time or the denial becomes final unless the person takes it to court on their own.”More than 950.000 student loan debtors have filed borrower defense fraud claims.
The American nonprofit sector, comprising everything from social justice nonprofits to right-wing think tanks, is widely seen as a moral compass in public life. These organizations claim to serve the common good, benefiting from tax-exempt status under Section 501(c)(3) or 501(c)(4) of the U.S. tax code. But beneath the image of benevolence lies a complex ecosystem where low wages, union resistance, and the concentration of wealth and power are all too common. Whether left-leaning or conservative, many nonprofits operate like corporations in all but name—exploiting public subsidies while avoiding the labor and tax obligations of the private sector.
While liberal nonprofits often claim moral high ground, conservative nonprofits such as the Heritage Foundation, Federalist Society, and Turning Point USA are even more explicit in using their nonprofit status for ideological gain. These organizations are generously funded by a network of wealthy donors and dark money, benefiting from laws that shield donor identities while still providing tax breaks. The New York Times and ProPublica have both documented how right-wing nonprofit networks use complex legal structures to move billions in untraceable funds through donor-advised funds and shell charities to influence elections, judiciary appointments, and public policy—while maintaining nonprofit status.
The 2018 creation of the Marble Freedom Trust, which received $1.6 billion in a single donation from electronics magnate Barre Seid, is one of the most striking examples of how conservative nonprofits benefit from the tax system. The money went to Leonard Leo, architect of the conservative judicial movement, and is being used to reshape American courts and governance—all tax-exempt. These conservative nonprofits rarely face scrutiny from the IRS, while progressive nonprofits, especially those tied to activism or labor organizing, often face intense bureaucratic hurdles or audits.
Despite their wealth, conservative nonprofits are not known for paying living wages to their rank-and-file employees. Just as with liberal nonprofits, a culture of ideological commitment is often used to justify stagnant salaries, limited benefits, and the absence of unions. At places like the Leadership Institute or the Intercollegiate Studies Institute, workers may be expected to accept lower compensation for the “privilege” of advancing a conservative mission. Few, if any, of these organizations are unionized. Interns and entry-level employees are often underpaid, even as their organizations maintain multi-million-dollar budgets and highly paid executive teams.
Meanwhile, liberal and progressive nonprofits often mirror this dynamic. The Southern Poverty Law Center, the ACLU, and the Sierra Club have all faced internal revolts from underpaid and overworked staff seeking union protections and better pay. Despite progressive missions, many of these organizations have resisted unionization, hired union-busting consultants, and continued to pay senior leadership six- or seven-figure salaries. The exploitation is bipartisan, rooted not in ideology but in structure: the tax system enables and incentivizes this behavior.
Across the political spectrum, nonprofits depend heavily on unpaid or underpaid labor. Interns, volunteers, and junior staff are routinely told that their sacrifices serve a greater cause, whether that cause is climate justice or dismantling “woke” education. The result is the same: a hollowing out of labor rights under the banner of purpose. The nonprofit sector has become a vehicle for elite influence—liberal and conservative alike—rather than a true instrument of public good.
Unionization in the nonprofit world remains low. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, nonprofit union membership has barely increased over the past three decades. And while there has been an uptick in union drives at liberal nonprofits, conservative organizations have largely avoided these movements altogether. In fact, many conservative nonprofits are actively hostile to organized labor as a matter of principle. The Heritage Foundation, for example, has long opposed the expansion of labor rights and has advised Republican administrations on how to weaken collective bargaining in the public sector.
As nonprofit wealth grows—particularly through endowments, real estate holdings, and tax-exempt investments—workers at the bottom continue to struggle. In higher education, many private nonprofit colleges and universities pay adjunct professors poverty wages while top administrators earn corporate-level compensation. Religious nonprofits, too, have been found to exploit workers under the guise of spiritual service. Megachurches and faith-based charities sometimes use volunteer labor as a substitute for paid employment, all while claiming tax benefits and avoiding federal labor laws.
Reform is urgently needed. Tax exemption should come with clear standards for labor rights, wage equity, and financial transparency. The IRS must enforce restrictions on political spending by nonprofits, particularly those masquerading as educational institutions while operating as partisan arms. Donor disclosure laws should apply across the board, and tax deductions for mega-donations should be limited unless tied to measurable public benefit. If nonprofits are to retain their privileged legal status, they must meet basic ethical and democratic standards.
Until these changes occur, the nonprofit sector will remain a shadow version of the for-profit world—reaping public subsidies while delivering low wages, avoiding unions, and deepening political inequality. Whether the name on the letterhead reads “Heritage Foundation” or “ACLU,” the structure of exploitation is the same. It's not just a crisis of values. It's a crisis of accountability.
Sources
ProPublica. “How a Billionaire’s Donation Exploded the Conservative Nonprofit World.” August 2022. https://www.propublica.org/article/dark-money-leonard-leo-barre-seid
New York Times. “They Legally Moved Billions to Fund Conservatives.” October 2021. https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/05/us/politics/dark-money-nonprofits.html
Associated Press. “Why Workers at a Growing Number of Nonprofits Are Unionizing.” June 2023. https://apnews.com/article/7fd961c88c614db47db63ffcd80e084e
PayScale. “Nonprofit Pay Cut: How Much Are You Losing to Do Good?” https://www.payscale.com/research-and-insights/nonprofit-pay-cut
Teen Vogue. “The Nonprofit Industrial Complex: What Is It and How Does It Work?” https://www.teenvogue.com/story/non-profit-industrial-complex-what-is
Bureau of Labor Statistics. “Nonprofit Earnings and Sectoral Employment in the United States Since 1994.” https://www.bls.gov/opub/mlr/2024/article/nonprofit-earnings-and-sectoral-employment-in-the-united-states-since-1994.htm
San Francisco Chronicle. “One of the Bay Area’s Most Progressive Nonprofits Is Warring with Itself.” https://www.sfchronicle.com/opinion/soleilho/article/nonprofit-unions-workers-20038770.php
Reddit. “Antiwork Nonprofit Volunteer Testimonies.” https://www.reddit.com/r/antiwork/comments/uhnrfd
Good history, myth busting, and power analysis are not just retro, they're rad(ical), and they are critically needed now more than ever. Educate, Agitate, Organize...
In a political environment increasingly hostile to independent academic thought, University of Virginia President James E. Ryan has become the latest victim of a broader right-wing campaign to reshape American higher education. On June 26, 2025, President Ryan announced he would step down in 2026 amid escalating political pressure from Governor Glenn Youngkin and conservative donors aligned with former President Donald Trump’s ideological movement.
Ryan’s departure signals a new phase in what many scholars, faculty advocates, and civil liberties organizations describe as a calculated “war on higher education.” This campaign—led by Trump-aligned political figures and well-funded conservative think tanks—seeks to silence dissent, reshape curricula, and exert direct control over public universities once considered bastions of academic freedom.
Founded by Thomas Jefferson as an Enlightenment-era experiment in self-governance and inquiry, the University of Virginia (UVA) has long held symbolic and practical importance in debates over the role of public higher education. But in the Trump era—and its aftermath—UVA has become a target for ideologues determined to transform universities into instruments of state-aligned conservatism.
Under Governor Youngkin, a UVA alumnus with close ties to Trump’s network of political operatives and donors, the Board of Visitors has seen a rightward shift. Youngkin has appointed multiple trustees who are openly critical of so-called “woke ideology,” DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) programs, and what they describe as the “leftist capture” of the academy.
Behind the scenes, donors aligned with conservative power brokers—some of whom also back organizations like the Manhattan Institute and the Heritage Foundation—have pushed for greater oversight of faculty hiring, curriculum design, and student programming. These efforts have been coupled with demands for ideological “balance,” often interpreted as enforced conservatism within departments historically committed to independent research and peer-reviewed scholarship.
President Ryan, who took office in 2018, initially enjoyed broad support. A legal scholar and former dean of Harvard’s Graduate School of Education, he worked to increase access for low-income students, build partnerships across ideological lines, and maintain UVA’s national reputation as a top-tier research institution.
But in the polarized landscape of post-2020 politics, Ryan found himself increasingly isolated. His support for DEI initiatives and resistance to political interference in hiring practices drew fire from right-wing media and activists who accused him of promoting “Marxism” and “anti-American” values. Conservative lawmakers in Virginia began threatening funding, while pressure from the Board of Visitors grew more intense and public.
By spring 2025, insiders say, it became clear that Ryan was being pushed toward the door. His announcement on June 26 came just months after similar resignations or removals of university leaders in Florida, Texas, and North Carolina—all states where Republican governors and legislatures have tightened their grip on higher education institutions.
Ryan’s resignation is not an isolated incident. It is the latest in a national trend of politically motivated purges of university leadership. In Florida, Governor Ron DeSantis oversaw the forced transformation of New College into a conservative stronghold, appointing culture warriors to the board and replacing leadership. In Texas, universities have seen crackdowns on DEI offices, faculty tenure protections, and academic freedom under the guise of “protecting free speech.”
Former President Trump and his surrogates have repeatedly framed colleges and universities as enemies of the people, accusing them of indoctrinating youth and undermining national unity. Trump-aligned media outlets have amplified attacks on liberal arts programs, gender studies departments, and student activism, framing higher education as a battleground in the culture war.
Meanwhile, dark money groups such as the American Council of Trustees and Alumni (ACTA) and the Federalist Society continue to shape governance reforms that reduce faculty power and increase donor and political influence. Some universities have faced legislation requiring loyalty pledges or mandating ideological reporting, tactics reminiscent of Cold War-era McCarthyism.
The forced resignation of James Ryan represents more than the loss of a single university president—it is a bellwether of a changing higher education landscape. The public university, once envisioned as a bulwark of democratic inquiry and upward mobility, is being redefined by those who see knowledge not as a public good but as a political threat.
For faculty, staff, and students at UVA and beyond, the message is chilling: conform or be replaced. The right’s war on higher education shows no signs of slowing. With the 2026 midterm elections on the horizon and the Trump faction consolidating control over multiple states, more university leaders may soon face the same fate as President Ryan.
In this struggle, what is at stake is not only academic freedom, but the future of American democracy.