“There was no sincerity,” said one source familiar with the layoffs. “No real communication. Just a robotic email. No opportunity for questions, no acknowledgment of people’s service.”
This latest layoff is the third major reduction in force since 2023. And while the numbers may seem modest for an institution that claims to serve more than 160,000 students, the ripple effects are anything but small. They confirm a broader trend that SNHU insiders have been warning about for months: a once-praised institution is hollowing itself out in silence.
A University Without a Soul?
The June 27 layoffs, like those before them, were handled with stunning disregard for the people who built and maintained the university’s infrastructure. Staff across departments described the news as “dehumanizing,” “cold,” and “contrary to everything SNHU claims to value.” No information was provided about who was let go or why. And as of this writing, SNHU has offered no public acknowledgment.
This is the same university that advertises itself as “student-centered,” “innovative,” and “empathetic.” It appears those values stop at the edge of the marketing department.
“They preach empathy to students,” one employee noted. “But when it came to their own staff, there was none.”
The Robocollege Paradox
SNHU’s rise to prominence was driven by two powerful forces: automation and marketing. Often described by critics as “America’s largest robocollege,” SNHU relies on heavily automated instructional systems, pre-scripted faculty responses, and templated course shells. More than 8,000 part-time instructors serve a student body of mostly remote learners—while just 130 full-time instructors remain.
The result is a system that mimics personalization at scale, but often delivers an education that is generic, repetitive, and impersonal. Now, it seems, the internal culture is mirroring that very structure: efficient, indifferent, and inhumane.
In recent months, students have also begun to complain—about outdated materials, recycled syllabi, and lackluster engagement from instructors who are stretched thin and closely monitored. Meanwhile, internal critics point to a bloated administration where promotions are tied to personal loyalty rather than competence, and where technical expertise is often sidelined in favor of political convenience.
New President, Same Old Playbook
Lisa Marsh Ryerson’s appointment as SNHU’s new president was seen by some as a chance for renewal. A respected nonprofit leader and former head of AARP Foundation, Ryerson was expected to bring transparency, vision, and accountability. But her first major act—a mass layoff delivered by email—suggests a continuation of the old regime’s worst habits.
Under her predecessor Paul LeBlanc, SNHU transformed from a small regional college to a billion-dollar online giant. But that transformation was not without costs: overreliance on adjuncts, erosion of curriculum quality, and a growing divide between leadership and labor.
Ryerson’s June email—void of any opportunity for dialogue or recognition—has raised questions about whether her presidency will offer anything different, or whether SNHU’s machine-like management culture is simply too entrenched.
A Warning to the Sector
What’s happening at SNHU is not unique, but it is instructive. As more universities turn to online models and data-driven scalability, the human core of education is being sacrificed. Staff are seen as expendable. Adjuncts are interchangeable. And students are increasingly treated as customers rather than learners.
In this environment, SNHU has become both a symbol of possibility and a cautionary tale: a nonprofit that operates like a for-profit, with all the social costs but none of the public accountability.
The Higher Education Inquirer has been tracking SNHU’s internal crises for months:
Sept. 27, 2024: America’s Largest Robocollege Facing Resistance from Human Workers and Student Complaints About Curriculum
June 27, 2025: Layoffs at Southern New Hampshire University
These are not isolated events. They are part of a long-term unraveling of an institution that once promised transformation—but now seems trapped in its own machinery.
We will continue to report on SNHU and invite current and former employees, students, and stakeholders to share their experiences confidentially. You are not alone.
If you work at SNHU or have insider knowledge, contact the Higher Education Inquirer at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu. All correspondence will be kept confidential.
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