Trumpenomics: The Emperor Has No Clothes

President Donald Trump calls himself a master of deals and a builder of wealth. But a closer look at his economic record shows otherwise. What passes as Trumpenomics is not a coherent strategy but a dangerous cocktail of trickle-down economics, tariffs, authoritarian force, and outright deception. The emperor struts confidently, yet his economic clothes are invisible.

Trickle-Down Economics with Tariffs

Trump’s policies leaned heavily on Arthur Laffer’s supply-side theories, promising that tax cuts for corporations and the wealthy would lift all boats. The 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act slashed the corporate tax rate from 35% to 21%, showering disproportionate benefits on the top 1%. The Congressional Budget Office found that by 2025, households making under $30,000 would actually see tax increases, while millionaires reaped permanent benefits.

At the same time, Trump imposed tariffs on China and other trade partners—despite claiming to be a free-market champion. Tariffs raised consumer prices at home, effectively acting as a hidden tax on working families. The Federal Reserve estimated that U.S. consumers and businesses bore nearly the full cost of Trump’s tariffs, with average households paying hundreds of dollars more each year for basic goods.

Demanding Tributes from Other Nations

Trump approached international trade less as economic policy and more as a tribute system. Nations that purchased U.S. arms, invested in Trump-friendly industries, or flattered his ego received preferential treatment. Those who did not were threatened with tariffs, sanctions, or military abandonment. His decision to reduce funding to NATO while deepening ties with Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the UAE reflected this transactional worldview.

Altering Economic Data and Scapegoating the Poor

Trump consistently attempted to alter or spin economic data. When unemployment spiked during COVID-19, his administration pressured agencies to downplay the crisis. In some cases, career economists reported being silenced or reassigned for refusing to misrepresent figures.

When numbers could not be manipulated, scapegoats were manufactured. Trump blamed immigrants, people of color, and the poor for economic stagnation, while targeting Medicaid recipients and the homeless as symbols of “decay.” Instead of addressing structural problems, his rhetoric diverted public anger downward, away from billionaires and corporations.

Lie, Cheat, Steal

Lawsuits and corruption have always been central to Trump’s business empire, and they carried over into his economic governance. From funneling taxpayer money into Trump-owned properties to bending trade policy for donors, his approach blurred the line between public service and private gain. The New York Times documented that Trump paid just $750 in federal income tax in 2016 and 2017, even as he claimed to be a champion of the American worker.

Fourth Generation Warfare, AI, and Taiwan

Trump’s economic worldview also bleeds into Fourth Generation Warfare (4GW)—the mixing of political, economic, and psychological operations. His chaotic handling of AI development, threats over Taiwan, and erratic China policy destabilized global markets. Uncertainty became a feature, not a bug: allies and rivals alike never knew if Trump’s economic positions were bargaining tools, retaliations, or improvisations.

Authoritarianism at Home and Abroad

At home, Trumpenomics relied on force and intimidation. He threatened to deploy the National Guard against protesters, treating dissent as an economic threat to be neutralized. Abroad, he backed Netanyahu’s expansionist policies while cutting aid to Europe, effectively reshaping U.S. alliances around authoritarian partners willing to pay for loyalty.

Hostility Toward Higher Education

Trump also targeted higher education, cutting research funding, undermining student protections, and ridiculing universities as bastions of “elitism.” The move was both political and economic: by weakening critical institutions, he expanded the space for propaganda and disinformation to thrive.

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Beneath the spectacle, Trumpenomics have left the US more unequal, more indebted, and more divided. The federal deficit ballooned by nearly $7.8 trillion during his first term—before COVID-19 relief spending. Inequality widened: by 2020, the richest 1% controlled more than 30% of the nation’s wealth, while median household income gains evaporated. Tariffs have raised costs, tax cuts hollowed out revenues, and corruption flourished.

Trump’s economy was not built on strength but on illusion. Like the emperor in Hans Christian Andersen’s fable, Trump strutted in garments only his loyalists claimed to see. For everyone else, the truth was painfully visible: the emperor had no clothes.

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Sources

• Congressional Budget Office, “The Distributional Effects of the 2017 Tax Cuts” (2018)

• Federal Reserve Board, “Effects of Tariffs on U.S. Consumers” (2019)

• The New York Times, “Trump’s Taxes Show Chronic Losses and Years of Income Tax Avoidance” (Sept. 27, 2020)

• David Cay Johnston, It’s Even Worse Than You Think: What the Trump Administration Is Doing to America (2018)

• Joseph Stiglitz, “Trump’s Economic Nonsense,” Project Syndicate (2019)

LSAT Suspended in China (Derek Newton*)

A friend of The Cheat Sheet sent us this important development — delivery of the LSAT, the Law School Admissions Test — has been suspended in China.

Go ahead, guess why.

According to the announcement from the test provider:

We have been increasingly concerned about organized efforts by individuals and companies in mainland China to promote test misconduct.

They continue:

While security is always a concern, these enterprises are becoming increasingly aggressive.

Yup.

I don’t mean to single out China. It’s one of a handful of countries in which test fraud is incredibly common and incredibly profitable. It’s so bad that any test delivered online in China is, in my view, compromised beyond validity.

To be clear as well, this is not a new problem (see Issue 232). In Issue 137, we noted that organized criminal gangs in India were giving up selling drugs because selling test fraud was more profitable.

More from the announcement:

This type of [cheating] activity is not limited to the LSAT; these enterprises purport to offer cheating services for virtually every standardized test.

True. Again — this is not a China problem or an LSAT problem. But this is a gigantic problem.

The announcement again:

After careful consideration, we have decided to take the additional step of suspending online testing in mainland China following the upcoming October international administration of the LSAT. We will be taking a variety of steps to enhance the security of the October LSAT. Because we do not currently offer in-person testing in China, the October test will be the last LSAT administration in mainland China until further notice.

And — round of applause.

This was not an easy decision. The LSAT in China must be a cash machine. Pulling it off the shelves involves more than just money, it raises real questions of fairness and access. So, seeing a company put the validity of their assessment and the sanctity of its scores ahead of money and ahead of awkward questions, is great.

It’s great.

If people keep stealing your lunch money, quit carrying your lunch money until you can figure out a better way. Like this:

We will continue to monitor and respond to this situation and will continue to evolve our security measures and employ a wide range of tools to protect the integrity of the test both in the U.S. and internationally.

Integrity is not cheap. But it is worth more than whatever it costs. Good for LSAC, the test provider.

And I know this is crazy, but every standardized test ought to hold themselves to the same standard. Give a secure, valid assessment or don’t give one at all. Colleges and universities, I’m looking at you.

Anyway, this is big news, and I do hope that others recognize the leadership this takes.

*This article first appeared at The Cheat Sheet.  

Trump’s “Manhattan Project” for AI Chips: U.S. Scrambles as China Reaps Neoliberal Legacy

The Trump administration is reportedly considering an extraordinary intervention in the private sector: partially nationalizing Intel Corp., one of America’s leading semiconductor manufacturers. Sources say the government is exploring a stake in the company—a move experts liken to the Manhattan Project or the early space race.

MIT AI computer scientist Dave Blundin described the effort on a podcast with MIT engineer Peter Diamandis as “every bit as important as the space race was, as the nuclear arms race was. Actually, it’s more important.” Intel’s advanced semiconductor capabilities could reduce U.S. dependence on foreign fabrication plants, particularly in Taiwan, which controls more than 60 percent of global chip production.

Decades of Missteps

Yet the urgency behind the move is rooted not in technological inevitability, but in decades of strategic missteps. Neoliberal policies pursued by U.S. administrations and corporate elites deliberately outsourced manufacturing and critical technology to China to cut labor costs. Over time, this strategy handed Beijing a decisive advantage in semiconductors, AI, and advanced technology, leaving the United States reactive and vulnerable.

The potential nationalization of Intel—a step usually reserved for wartime or extreme crises—signals a dramatic departure from free-market principles. By directly involving the federal government in a major private firm, the administration privileges corporate elites, bypassing both market competition and public accountability. Intel declined to comment on the discussions but emphasized its commitment to supporting the administration’s technology and manufacturing priorities.

China and Taiwan

Blundin warned the move puts the industry on a “war footing,” likening it to a mobilization for conflict, with supply chains and fabs as the battlefield. Analysts stress urgency: China may attempt to take over Taiwan sooner rather than later. Unlike the United States, China operates under a coordinated, authoritarian system that fuses government strategy and industrial capacity to dominate global technology—a stark structural advantage over the fragmented, elite-driven U.S. approach.

Recent deals highlight the U.S.’s reactive posture. Last week, Nvidia and Advanced Micro Devices (AMD) agreed to hand over 15 percent of their chip sales revenue in China to the U.S. government in exchange for export licenses. Experts warn that while these arrangements provide short-term financial gains, they also strengthen China’s AI and military capabilities. Liza Tobin, former China director at the National Security Council, called the deal “an own goal” likely to incentivize Beijing to escalate its technology development and demand further concessions.

Trump has also threatened a 100 percent tariff on imports unless chips are manufactured domestically. If Intel is partially nationalized, it would mark one of the most significant government interventions in U.S. industry in decades—demonstrating both a departure from free-market capitalism and a concentration of power in the hands of elites.

The U.S.’s current scramble illustrates a deeper crisis. Decades of neoliberal policies, elite capture, and weakening democratic institutions have left the nation ill-prepared to compete against a strategically unified authoritarian China. Semiconductor leadership is no longer just an economic or technological matter—it is a test of whether the United States can reclaim strategic sovereignty while defending democracy and free-market principles, or whether it will continue to lose ground to authoritarian advantage.

Sources: Bloomberg, Financial Times, The New York Times, MIT Podcast with Dave Blundin & Peter Diamandis

Jin Huang, Higher Education’s Harry Houdini

Ambow CEO Has Repeatedly Slipped Through the Fingers of Shareholders and Regulators

In the opaque world of for-profit higher education, few figures have evoked the mixture of fascination and alarm generated by Jin Huang, CEO—and at times interim CFO and Board Chair—of Ambow Education Holding Ltd. Huang has repeatedly navigated financial crises, regulatory scrutiny, and institutional collapse with a Houdini-like flair. Yet the institutions under her control—most notably Bay State College and NewSchool of Architecture & Design—tell a far more troubling story.

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Ambow’s Financial Labyrinth

Ambow, headquartered in the Cayman Islands with historic ties to Beijing (former address: No. 11 Xinyuanli, Chaoyang District, Beijing, China), has endured years of financial instability. As early as 2010, the company pursued ambitious acquisitions in the U.S. education market, including NewSchool and eventually Bay State College, often relying on opaque financing and cross-border investments.

By 2013, allegations of sham transactions and kickbacks forced Ambow into liquidation and reorganization. Yet the company repeatedly avoided delisting and collapse. Financial reports reveal a recurring pattern: near-catastrophe followed by minimal recovery. In 2023, net revenue fell 37.8% to $9.2 million with a $4.3 million operating loss. By 2024, Ambow reported a modest $0.3 million net income, narrowly avoiding another financial crisis. 

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Early Years: 2010–2015

From 2010 to 2015, Ambow aggressively pursued U.S. acquisitions and technology projects while expanding its presence in China. The company leveraged offshore corporate structures and relied heavily on PRC-linked investors. Huang’s leadership style during this period prioritized expansion and publicity over sustainable governance, leaving institutions financially vulnerable.

Despite claims of educational innovation, Ambow’s track record in these years included multiple warnings from U.S. regulators and questionable accounting practices that would later contribute to shareholder lawsuits and delisting from the NYSE in 2014.

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Bay State College: Closed Doors, Open Wounds

Acquired in 2017, Bay State College in Boston once enrolled over 1,200 students. By 2021, enrollment had collapsed, despite millions in federal COVID-era relief. In 2022, the Massachusetts Attorney General secured a $1.1 million settlement over misleading marketing, telemarketing violations, and inflated job-placement claims.

Accreditation probation followed, culminating in NECHE’s withdrawal of accreditation in January 2023. Eviction proceedings for over $720,000 in unpaid rent preceded the college’s permanent closure in August 2023. Bay State’s demise exemplifies the consequences of Ambow’s pattern: the CEO escapes, the institution collapses, and students and faculty are left in the lurch.

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NewSchool of Architecture & Design: Stabilization in San Diego

NewSchool, Ambow’s other U.S. acquisition, has faced persistent challenges. Enrollment has dropped below 300 students, and the school remains on the U.S. Department of Education’s Heightened Cash Monitoring list. Leadership instability has been chronic: five presidents since 2020, with resignations reportedly tied to unpaid salaries and operational dysfunction.

As of 2025, lawsuits with Art Block Investors, LLC have been settled, and NewSchool is now housed in three floors of the WeWork building in downtown San Diego. Despite receiving a Notice of Concern from regional accreditor WSCUC, the college remains operational but financially precarious.

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Questionable Credentials and Leadership Transparency

Huang has claimed to hold a PhD from the University of California, but investigation reveals no record of degree completion. This raises further concerns about leadership credibility and transparency. Ambow’s consolidated executive structure—Huang serving simultaneously as CEO, CFO, and Board Chair—exacerbates governance risks.

While headquartered in Cupertino, California, Ambow continues to operate with ties to Chinese interests. SEC filings from the PRC era acknowledged that the Chinese government exerted significant influence on the company’s business operations. Ambow has also expressed interest in projects in Morocco and Tunisia involving Chinese-affiliated partners.

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HybriU and the EdTech Hype

In 2024, Ambow launched HybriU, a hybrid learning platform promoted at CES and the ASU+GSV conference. Marketing materials claim a 5-in-1 AI-integrated solution for teaching, learning, connectivity, recording, and management, including immersive 3D classroom projections.

Yet there is no verifiable evidence of HybriU’s use in actual classrooms. A $1.3 million licensing deal with a recently formed Singapore company, Inspiring Futures, is the only reported commercial transaction. Photos on the platform’s website have been traced to stock images, and the “OOOK” (One-on-One Knowledge) technology introduced in China in 2021 has not demonstrated measurable results in U.S. education settings.

Reports suggest that Ambow may be in preliminary talks with Colorado State University (CSU) to implement HybriU. HEI has not confirmed any formal partnership, and CSU has not publicly acknowledged engagement with the platform. Any potential relationship remains unverified, raising questions about the legitimacy and scope of Ambow’s outreach to U.S. universities.

Ambow’s 2025 press release promotes HybriU as a transformative global learning network, but HEI’s review finds no verified partnerships with accredited U.S. universities, no independent validation, and continued opacity regarding student outcomes or data security.

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Financial Oversight and Auditor Concerns

Ambow commissioned a favorable report from Argus Research, but its research and development spending remains minimal—$100,000 per quarter. Prouden CPA, the current auditor based in China, is new to the company’s books and has limited experience auditing U.S. education operations. This raises questions about the reliability of Ambow’s financial reporting and governance practices.

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The Illusion of Rescue

Jin Huang’s repeated escapes from regulatory and financial peril have earned her a reputation akin to Harry Houdini. But the cost of each act is borne not by the CEO, but by institutions, faculty, and students. Bay State College is closed. NewSchool remains operational in a WeWork facility but teeters on financial fragility. HybriU promises innovation but offers no proof.

Ambow’s trajectory demonstrates that a company can survive on hype, foreign influence, and minimal governance, while leaving the real consequences behind. Any unconfirmed talks with CSU highlight the ongoing risks for U.S. institutions considering engagement with Ambow. For regulators, students, and higher education stakeholders, Huang’s Houdini act is less a marvel than a warning.

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Sources

• Higher Education Inquirer. “Ambow Education Facing NYSE Delisting.” May 2022.

• Higher Education Inquirer. “Ambow Education and NewSchool of Architecture and Design.” October 2023.

• Higher Education Inquirer. “NewSchool of Architecture and Design Lawsuits.” March 2025.

• Boston Globe. “Bay State College Faces Uncertain Future.” January 3, 2023.

• Inside Higher Ed. “Two Colleges Flounder Under Opaque For-Profit Owners.” October 18, 2022.

• Inside Higher Ed. “Bay State College Loses Accreditation Appeal.” March 21, 2023.

• GlobeNewswire. “Ambow Education Announces Full-Year 2024 Results.” March 28, 2025.

• Ambow Education Press Releases and SEC Filings

• Wikipedia. “Bay State College.” Accessed August 2025.

• Wikipedia. “NewSchool of Architecture and Design.” Accessed August 2025.

How Immigration Has Fueled the Rise of Trumpism—and Changed Higher Education

In the United States, immigration has long been framed as a symbol of national pride—a beacon for the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” But in recent decades, as demographic, economic, and cultural shifts have accelerated, immigration has also become a flashpoint for political backlash. That backlash has taken on a powerful form in Trumpism: a nationalist-populist movement steeped in nativist fear, economic resentment, and white grievance politics. What’s often missing in mainstream analysis is how higher education—both as a driver and a symbol of immigration—has become entangled in this struggle.

At the center of this complexity is a contradictory truth: while much of Trumpism is fueled by anti-immigrant rhetoric and fear of demographic change, some of its most visible leaders and financial backers are themselves immigrants or children of immigrants, particularly from India. In the elite zones of tech, business, and politics, conservative Indian Americans are shaping immigration policy, university priorities, and even culture war narratives in ways that reinforce the very Trumpist ideology they supposedly should oppose.

American higher education has undergone a transformation over the past four decades—from a public good to a privatized, competitive marketplace. As state funding dried up, institutions turned to other sources of revenue: tuition, corporate partnerships, real estate development, and international students. Colleges and universities—particularly large public research institutions and elite private schools—ramped up recruitment of foreign students who could pay full price, especially from China, South Korea, Saudi Arabia, and increasingly, India.

Today, Indian nationals are the second-largest group of international students in the U.S., particularly in STEM fields and graduate programs. Their tuition dollars help subsidize faculty salaries, administrative bloat, and research labs. H-1B visa holders, many of them Indian engineers and tech workers, have become a cornerstone of the U.S. tech workforce—and a key component of university-sponsored visa pipelines. In many graduate programs, foreign students are the programs.

At the same time, working-class Americans—especially in rural areas and former manufacturing hubs—have watched colleges become unrecognizable. For many, the university has become a symbol not of opportunity but of exclusion: a place that speaks a foreign language (literally and culturally), employs foreign-born TAs, and caters to elite global interests while raising tuition and reducing services.

One of the most paradoxical developments in the Trumpist era is the rise of conservative Indian Americans as major players in business, politics, and education policy. Figures like Vivek Ramaswamy, a biotech entrepreneur and 2024 GOP presidential candidate, have become darlings of the MAGA movement, espousing anti-DEI rhetoric, rejecting multiculturalism, and calling for the dismantling of the administrative state—including large swaths of the Department of Education. Kash Patel, Ajit Pai, and others have served in prominent Trump administration roles, often pushing deregulation, aggressive nationalism, and the rollback of civil rights protections.

Many of these individuals are highly educated products of elite U.S. universities—Princeton, Harvard, Yale—who advocate for a vision of America rooted in "meritocracy," free markets, and Christian-coded traditional values. Their rise is no accident. They often come from upper-caste, upper-class families in India and align ideologically with India’s ruling Hindu nationalist party, the BJP. That ideology—Hindutva—is increasingly aligned with global authoritarian movements, including Trumpism, Putinism, and Zionist ethnonationalism.

In higher education, this conservative cohort supports crackdowns on campus protest, restrictions on Critical Race Theory, and the dismantling of diversity programs. Some even promote a two-tier immigration system: open pathways for high-skilled workers and university graduates like themselves, and closed doors for asylum seekers, refugees, and undocumented immigrants.

Trumpist Republicans—often with support from conservative immigrants—have increasingly turned higher education into a battleground in the culture wars. In red states, new legislation and executive orders have targeted DEI offices, faculty unions, and ethnic studies departments. They have moved to restrict international student programs, especially for students from China and the Middle East, while simultaneously undermining tenure protections and academic freedom. Crackdowns on campus protests, often under the guise of "free speech," have been used to suppress progressive voices and student organizing.

As faculty ranks have become more diverse—and more contingent—conservatives have fought to reassert traditional hierarchies, often by using foreign-born faculty and graduate students as a wedge. Critics of tenure and academic “liberalism” claim that universities are out of touch with American values and serve foreign interests. Meanwhile, the same institutions continue to capitalize on the global student market, building campuses in Dubai and Singapore while closing rural extension centers at home.

Trumpism is not just a reaction to immigration itself, but to who benefits from it. At the top are elite immigrants—often from privileged caste backgrounds in India or affluent families in China—who attend top-tier universities and enter high-income fields. Below them are millions of working-class Americans saddled with student loan debt, gig jobs, and eroded social status. And beneath them still are the invisible laborers of higher education: the adjuncts, food service workers, janitors, and maintenance crews—many of them immigrants without documentation or legal protections.

This stratification of labor is mirrored in the classroom. International students often receive better advising, housing, and visa support than low-income domestic students, particularly Black, Latino, and Native students. Colleges may invest in ESL services and global partnerships while cutting mental health counseling, rural outreach, and Pell-eligible student aid.

Immigration is not the cause of Trumpism—but it is the mirror in which many Americans see their own social decline. And higher education has played a central role in projecting that mirror. When universities prioritize international growth over local development, or when elite immigrants champion policies that punish the poor and undocumented, they unwittingly feed the very movement that seeks to close the gates behind them.

Trumpism, for all its contradictions, thrives on this resentment. It exploits the divisions between “model minorities” and “undeserving poor,” between elite institutions and everyday people. It turns the American university—from Berkeley to Ohio State—into a symbol of what has been lost, even as it pretends to offer a way forward.

Immigration and higher education are deeply interwoven in the American story. But as higher ed becomes increasingly globalized, privatized, and stratified, it risks alienating the very people it claims to serve. The rise of Trumpism is not just a rejection of immigrants—it is a rejection of an education system that many see as rigged, elitist, and complicit in their decline.

The challenge for those of us in higher education—and especially for immigrants who have benefitted from it—is to confront these contradictions honestly. We must rethink who higher education serves. We must recognize how caste, class, and color operate not only across borders but within them.

For the Higher Education Inquirer, this is not a call for scapegoating immigrants, but for deeper analysis. How did we arrive at a system where elite global mobility coexists with mass domestic precarity? And what would it look like to build a higher education system rooted in justice—not just for the few who arrive, but for the many who are left behind?

Murky Waters 2: Ambow Education, Chinese Influence, and US Edtech, 2013-2025

In Chinese culture, there’s an old proverb: “混水摸鱼” — “In murky waters, it is easier to catch fish.” The lesson is clear: confusion and opacity benefit those looking to manipulate outcomes for personal gain. In politics, finance, and international affairs, it is a warning. In the case of Ambow Education Holding Ltd., it may be a roadmap.

On June 26, 2025, Ambow announced a partnership with the tiny University of the West (UWest), a Buddhist college in Rosemead, California, enrolling just 153 students. The deal will implement Ambow’s HybriU platform—a so-called “phygital” learning solution combining digital and physical education delivery—positioning the technology as a tool for expanding U.S. academic access to international students. But a closer look reveals a story less about educational innovation than about power, soft influence, and the financialization of struggling institutions.

Ambow, a Cayman Islands–registered and formerly Beijing-based EdTech firm, has quietly entrenched itself in U.S. higher education. While other sectors of the U.S. economy—especially semiconductors and AI—have become more cautious of Chinese-linked investment due to national security concerns, American higher education remains notably exposed. The Ambow-UWest partnership exemplifies that vulnerability.

This is not Ambow’s first foray into U.S. academia. In 2013, the company was delisted from the New York Stock Exchange and liquidated after accusations of accounting irregularities. Rebranded and restructured offshore, Ambow re-entered the market, acquiring distressed for-profit colleges. In 2017, it bought Bay State College in Boston. Three years later, Massachusetts fined the school $1.1 million for fraudulent advertising, inflated placement rates, and illegal telemarketing. The school shuttered in 2023 after eliminating key services, including its library, and squandering pandemic-era federal aid.

In 2020, Ambow acquired the NewSchool of Architecture and Design in San Diego. Since then, NewSchool has appeared on the U.S. Department of Education’s Heightened Cash Monitoring 2 list, signifying severe financial instability. Lawsuits followed, including one for unpaid rent and another over compensation disputes involving the school’s former president.

Still, Ambow continues to market itself as a leader in “AI-driven” phygital innovation. HybriU, its flagship platform, has been promoted at edtech and investor conferences like CES and ASU-GSV, with lofty promises about immersive education and intelligent classrooms. But the evidence is thin. The platform’s website contains vague marketing language, no peer-reviewed validation, no public client list, and stock images masquerading as real users. Its core technology, OOOK (One-on-One Knowledge), was piloted in China in 2021 but shows no signs of adoption by credible U.S. institutions.

Why, then, would a college like University of the West—or potentially a major public institution like Colorado State University (CSU), reportedly exploring a partnership with Ambow—risk associating with such an entity?

To understand the stakes, we must follow the money and the power behind the brand.

Ambow’s largest shareholder bloc is controlled by Jian-Yue Pan (aka Pan Jianyue), a Chinese executive with deep ties to the country’s tech and investment elite. Pan is general partner of CEIHL Partners I and II, two Cayman Islands entities that control roughly 26.7 percent of Ambow’s publicly floated Class A shares. He also chairs Uphill Investment Co., which is active in the semiconductor and electronics sectors, and holds board positions in tech firms with connections to Tsinghua University—one of China’s premier talent pipelines for its national strategic industries.

Pan’s voting control over Ambow gives him sweeping influence over its corporate decisions, executive appointments, and strategic direction. His role raises critical concerns about the use of U.S. higher education infrastructure as a potential channel for data access, market expansion, and soft geopolitical influence.

To further legitimize its U.S. operations, Ambow recently appointed James Bartholomew as company president. Bartholomew’s resume includes controversial stints at DeVry University and Adtalem Global Education. While at DeVry, the institution was fined $100 million by the FTC for deceptive marketing. At Adtalem, he oversaw operations criticized for offshore medical schools and active resistance to gainful employment regulations.

Even Ambow’s financial underpinnings are suspect. Its R&D spending hovers around $100,000 per quarter—trivial for a firm purporting to lead in AI and immersive tech. Its audits are performed by Prouden CPA, a virtually unknown Chinese firm, not one of the major global accounting networks. These red flags suggest not a dynamic tech company, but a shell operation kept afloat by hype, misdirection, and strategic ambiguity.

That makes its ambitions in U.S. public education all the more dangerous.

Reports that Colorado State University—a land-grant institution managing sensitive federal research—may be considering a partnership with Ambow should prompt urgent scrutiny. Has CSU conducted a full cybersecurity and national security risk assessment? Have university stakeholders—faculty, students, and the public—been involved in the review process? Or is the university racing blindly into an agreement driven by budget pressures and buzzwords?

American higher education has long been susceptible to bad actors promising solutions to enrollment declines and funding shortfalls. But in recent years, the cost of these decisions has grown. With campuses increasingly dependent on international student tuition and digital platforms, the door has opened to exploitative operators and geopolitical influence.

Ambow has already shuttered one U.S. college. Its remaining campus is on shaky footing. Its technology lacks serious vetting. Its leadership is tethered to past scandals. And its largest shareholder has interests far beyond education.

This is not just about Ambow. It is about the structural vulnerabilities in American higher education—an industry ripe for manipulation by financial speculators, tech opportunists, and foreign actors operating with impunity. The murky waters of privatized, digitized education reward those who operate without transparency.

Public universities must remember who they serve: students, faculty, and the public—not offshore shareholders or unproven platforms.

If Colorado State or any other institution moves forward with Ambow, they owe the public clear answers: What protections are in place? What risks are being considered? Who really controls the platforms delivering instruction? And most importantly, why are public institutions turning to unstable, opaque companies for core educational delivery?

As the proverb reminds us, murky waters are fertile ground for hidden agendas. But education, above all, demands clarity, integrity, and public accountability.

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Sources:

• SEC filings and 20-F reports: sec.gov

• Massachusetts Attorney General settlement with Bay State College, March 2020

• Federal Trade Commission settlement with DeVry University, December 2016

• U.S. Department of Education Heightened Cash Monitoring List

• NYSE delisting notices, 2013

• CES and ASU-GSV conference archives, 2023–2024

• Corporate data from MarketScreener and CEIHL Partners

• Ambow’s 2023 Annual Report and quarterly 6-K filings

Higher Education Inquirer's International Influence

The Higher Education Inquirer has gained a strong international influence.  Here are the viewership numbers for the last 24 hours.   

House Select Committee Seeks Answers to Chinese Communist Party -Linked Bioagent Smuggling at the University of Michigan

WASHINGTON, D.C. — This week, Chairman Moolenaar of the Select Committee on China, Chairman Walberg of the Committee on Education and the Workforce, and Chairman Babin of the Committee on Science, Space, and Technology sent two letters investigating the potential agroterrorism incident in Michigan earlier this month.

The first urges the National Institute of Health and the National Science Foundation to review grants awarded to two University of Michigan professors whose labs hosted Chinese nationals recently charged by the Department of Justice with smuggling biological materials.

"The Committees found that Jian and Liu conducted research under the supervision of, or in concert with, UM professors funded by the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the National Science Foundation (NSF). It is our position that Chinese researchers tied to the PRC defense research and industrial base have no business participating in U.S. taxpayer-funded research with clear national security implications—especially those related to dangerous biological materials," says the first letter.

The letter reveals that the Chinese nationals were tied to professors who received approximately $9.6 million in federal research funding.

The second requests information directly from the University of Michigan regarding its oversight, compliance practices, and any internal reviews related to those individuals. It comes after previous research security concerns were raised regarding the university's relationships to the People's Republic of China (PRC).

Earlier this year, the university announced it had closed its joint institute with Shanghai Jiao Tong University following a letter from Chairman Moolenaar that outlined the school's ties to Chinese military modernization efforts.

"We are deeply alarmed about recent reports and related criminal charges involving Chinese nationals with direct ties to the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) allegedly smuggling dangerous biological materials into the United States for use at UM laboratories," the letter writes. "Given the recent criminal charges within the span of a week, the Committees have respectfully urged the NIH and NSF to initiate a full review of any grants related to these incidents. To support this effort, we request that UM produce all documents and records of any due diligence, investigations, or other reviews—conducted by or on behalf of UM—concerning conflicts of interest or commitment involving any UM faculty, researchers, or individuals granted access to UM facilities."

The letters were signed by twenty-five Members of Congress from the three committees.

Read the letter to the National Institute of Health (NIH) and National Science Foundation (NSF) here.

Read the letter to the University of Michigan here.

Cybersecurity Threats, Fascism, and Higher Education

American higher education stands at a dangerous crossroads—caught between the encroachment of authoritarian surveillance at home and the very real cybersecurity threats from adversarial states abroad. On one side, we see the growth of data collection and domestic monitoring that risks silencing dissent and undermining academic freedom. On the other, sophisticated cyberattacks from nation-states like Russia, China, Iran, Israel, and North Korea present significant threats to intellectual property, national security, and the safety of digital infrastructure on campus.

This double-edged sword raises urgent questions about the role of higher education in a time of rising fascism, geopolitical instability, and digital vulnerability.

In recent years, colleges and universities have become sites of intensified digital monitoring. Student protesters, faculty activists, and visiting scholars find themselves increasingly under surveillance by both state agencies and private contractors. Under the guise of “safety” and “cybersecurity,” dissident voices—especially those speaking out on issues like Palestine, racial justice, climate collapse, and labor rights—are monitored, flagged, and at times disciplined.

Campus security partnerships with local police and federal agencies like the FBI, DHS, and ICE have created a new surveillance architecture that chills free speech and suppresses organizing. Social media is mined. Emails are monitored. Student groups that once flourished in the open now meet with the paranoia of being watched or labeled as threats. This chilling effect is especially acute for international students and scholars from the Global South, who face disproportionate scrutiny, travel restrictions, and visa denials. These policies don’t just protect against threats—they enforce a top-down political orthodoxy. In some cases, administrators have even turned over data to law enforcement in response to political pressure, lawsuits, or fear of reputational harm. The dream of the university as a bastion of free inquiry is fading in the fog of surveillance capitalism and political fear.

Particularly concerning is the growing role of powerful tech firms like Palantir Technologies in higher education's security infrastructure. Originally developed with backing from the CIA’s venture capital arm, In-Q-Tel, Palantir’s software is designed for mass data aggregation, predictive policing, and counterinsurgency-style surveillance. While marketed as tools for campus safety and data management, Palantir’s platforms can also be used to monitor student behavior, track political activism, and identify so-called “threats” that align more with ideological dissent than legitimate security concerns. The company has existing contracts with numerous universities and research institutions, embedding itself in the heart of higher ed’s decision-making and information systems with little public accountability.

At the same time, the threat from foreign actors is not imaginary. Russian disinformation campaigns have targeted U.S. universities, attempting to sow discord through social media and exploit political divisions on campus. Iranian state-sponsored hackers have stolen research from American institutions, targeting fields like nuclear science, engineering, and public health. Chinese entities have been accused of both cyberespionage and aggressive recruitment of U.S.-trained researchers through programs like the Thousand Talents Plan, sparking controversy and xenophobic backlash. While some fears have been overstated or politically weaponized, evidence shows that intellectual property theft and cyber intrusion are persistent issues.

Meanwhile, Israel’s cyber industry—including firms founded by former Israeli intelligence operatives—has sold spyware and surveillance tools to governments and corporations worldwide. NSO Group’s Pegasus spyware, for instance, has reportedly been used to target academics, journalists, and activists. American campuses are not exempt from these tools’ reach—particularly when it comes to Palestine advocacy and international collaborations.

The paradox is clear: The same institutions that should be defending democratic ideals and global collaboration are being co-opted into both authoritarian domestic surveillance and militarized cyberdefense. There is an alarming convergence of corporate cybersecurity contractors, intelligence agencies, and university bureaucracies—often with little transparency or oversight. Federal funding tied to defense and homeland security has made some universities complicit in this surveillance regime. Others have turned to private cybersecurity vendors like Palantir, which quietly build intrusive systems that blur the lines between threat detection and political policing. In this environment, real cybersecurity is essential—but it must not become a tool for repression.

What is needed is a dual approach that protects against foreign and criminal cyberthreats without succumbing to the authoritarian logic of mass surveillance. Universities must protect academic freedom by enforcing strict policies against political monitoring and reaffirming the rights of students and faculty to speak, organize, and dissent. They must ensure transparency and oversight over cybersecurity operations and external partnerships, particularly those involving military and intelligence-linked firms. They must support digital security for activists and marginalized groups, not just administrative systems. And they must strengthen internal cyberdefenses through open-source tools, decentralized networks, and ethical cybersecurity education—not just corporate solutions that prioritize control over community.

We cannot allow the logic of the Cold War to be reborn in the form of digital McCarthyism. Higher education must be a firewall against fascism—not a pipeline for it. As we confront 21st-century cyberconflicts and political extremism, universities must ask themselves: Are we defending truth and inquiry—or enabling the very systems that undermine them? The answer will shape the future of higher education—and democracy itself.

Trump, Hegseth, and the Bombing of Iran: Taking the Bait at America’s Peril

The sudden arrival of the U.S. Air Force's E-4B “Doomsday Plane” at Joint Base Andrews this week has reignited fears of impending military escalation in the Middle East. As speculation swirls online and among defense analysts, President Donald Trump and his Fox News consigliere Pete Hegseth appear to be inching dangerously close to embracing a war plan that plays into the hands of both their domestic political ambitions and the geopolitical strategies of their adversaries.

The E-4B, also known as “Nightwatch,” is no ordinary aircraft. Built to survive a nuclear attack, maintain satellite command and control in the event of total ground disruption, and oversee the execution of emergency war orders, its presence near Washington, D.C. signals something far more than routine military procedure. The use of a rare callsign—"ORDER01"—instead of the standard "ORDER6" only stokes the sense that we are on the brink of another catastrophic foreign policy decision.

This show of force comes amid rising tensions with Iran, exacerbated by ongoing Israeli aggression and increased Iranian defiance. But rather than de-escalate or seek diplomatic offramps, Trump and Hegseth—cheered on by neoconservative holdovers and MAGA populists—seem eager to provoke or retaliate with military might.

Political Theater with Global Consequences

The specter of bombing Iran isn’t just about foreign policy—it’s political theater. In the lead-up to a contentious election cycle, Trump is once again playing the wartime president, wielding fear and nationalism to consolidate support. For Hegseth, a veteran turned right-wing media figure, the promise of patriotic glory and "restoring American strength" makes for good ratings and even better branding. Both men are using the possibility of war as a campaign tool—recklessly gambling with global stability.

Yet the U.S. has nothing to gain from an expanded conflict with Iran. If anything, such an act plays directly into the strategic interests of hardliners in Tehran and Tel Aviv alike. For Iran’s theocratic regime, American aggression would bolster internal solidarity and justify further authoritarian crackdowns. For Israel’s leadership, it would secure unwavering U.S. allegiance in their own campaign of regional dominance. For both, American bombs would mean the end of diplomatic ambiguity.

Higher Education and the Fog of War

War is also profitable—for defense contractors, media networks, and privatized universities that specialize in churning out online degrees in homeland security and intelligence studies. Institutions like the Liberty University, whose ads routinely appear alongside war reporting, are the educational arm of the war economy, training an underpaid, precariously employed labor force in service of endless conflict. These for-profit institutions have long aligned themselves with militarism, offering “education benefits” that function as recruitment tools for the armed forces.

Meanwhile, real intellectual inquiry is under siege. Faculty who question U.S. foreign policy—particularly in the Middle East—face surveillance, harassment, and cancellation. Dissenting students are monitored. Grants for critical research dry up, while think tanks funded by the arms industry flourish. Universities become staging grounds for ideological conformity, not bastions of free thought.

Taking the Bait

Trump and Hegseth are being lured into a trap—one that benefits the very global elites they claim to oppose. Escalating with Iran serves the military-industrial complex, shores up Israeli hardliners, and consolidates state power under the guise of national emergency. At home, it means more surveillance, more censorship, and more austerity for working families already reeling from inflation and housing insecurity.

In the end, the cost of war will not be borne by Trump or Hegseth. It will be borne by low-income soldiers, the people of Iran, and the students who forgo education for military service. It will be paid for by cutting healthcare, housing, and higher education. And it will hollow out American democracy, all while propping up the illusion of strength.

This is not leadership. This is entrapment. And it’s time we said so—loudly, before the next bombs drop.

Ambow Education's Latest Move Raises Red Flags—A Second Warning to Colorado State University

On June 11, Ambow Education Holding Ltd. (NYSE American: AMBO) announced the appointment of James Bartholomew as its new president, emphasizing his leadership experience at DeVry University and Adtalem Global Education. While this move is being framed as part of a bold pivot toward global expansion through its hybrid learning platform, HybriU, the deeper reality of Ambow’s operations suggests that institutions like Colorado State University (CSU) should proceed with extreme caution.

Ambow Education is no stranger to controversy. In May 2022, The Higher Education Inquirer began investigating the company after credible tips about its mismanagement of Bay State College in Boston. The Massachusetts Attorney General had already fined the school in 2020 for misleading students. By August 2023, Bay State College closed abruptly, leaving behind a mess for students and staff. Throughout this time, Ambow operated with an alarming level of opacity, raising concerns among journalists, regulators, and public officials—including Senator Elizabeth Warren and Representative Ayanna Pressley.

Ambow’s financial practices and leadership structure have remained elusive, with lingering ties to the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The company sold its PRC-based assets in 2022 and relocated to a small office in Cupertino, California, but its auditor remains based in China, and it has expressed interest in projects in Morocco and Tunisia involving Chinese-affiliated partners. The proverb about fishing in murky waters aptly describes how Ambow has operated in both Chinese and American markets.

Now, Ambow is promoting HybriU, a “phygital” platform it claims is revolutionizing education and corporate communication. Marketed heavily at events like CES and ASU-GSV, HybriU has been linked to a $1.3 million contract with a small firm in Singapore, but no major U.S. clients have been named. Visuals from the company’s website include stock images, and there’s no publicly available evidence that HybriU is delivering measurable results in any real-world education setting. The platform’s “OOOK” (One-on-One Knowledge) technology was first introduced in China in 2021, but it has yet to prove itself in American classrooms.

James Bartholomew’s appointment appears to be aimed at lending credibility to the HybriU initiative. However, his background warrants a closer look. DeVry University, where Bartholomew previously served as CEO, was embroiled in a long list of scandals, including a $100 million settlement with the Federal Trade Commission in 2016 for deceptive advertising practices. These included inflated job placement claims and misleading earnings expectations for graduates. The Department of Education also scrutinized DeVry for poor student loan repayment metrics and aggressive recruiting tactics.

At Adtalem Global Education—DeVry’s former parent company—similar concerns persisted. Offshore medical schools under Adtalem’s umbrella, such as Ross University and American University of the Caribbean, were criticized for high tuition, student debt, and low U.S. residency placement rates. The company spent years lobbying against federal gainful employment regulations that were designed to protect students from predatory institutions. While Bartholomew may not have initiated these practices, he held leadership roles during a time when the institutions were navigating declining trust, financial turbulence, and increasing regulatory scrutiny.

Against this backdrop, reports have emerged that Colorado State University is considering a partnership with Ambow to implement the HybriU platform. On the surface, this might seem like a step toward innovation and flexibility in digital learning. But such a partnership could expose CSU to national security and data privacy risks, regulatory backlash, reputational damage, and questionable academic outcomes.

Given Ambow’s historical ties to the PRC, questions have been raised about the possibility of exposing sensitive university data to foreign surveillance or influence. CSU is a major research university with partnerships across science, defense, and technology. Even the perception that its digital infrastructure could be compromised could undermine public trust and jeopardize government grants and contracts.

The regulatory landscape is also increasingly cautious when it comes to foreign influence, particularly from China, in American higher education. Federal agencies have warned about the risks of partnerships that could compromise institutional independence or data integrity. Entering into a relationship with a firm like Ambow could place CSU under increased scrutiny or spark political backlash.

From a pedagogical perspective, HybriU is unproven. It has yet to demonstrate any significant results in U.S. education settings, and its claims are not substantiated by independent data. Adopting a platform without a strong record could endanger CSU’s teaching mission and student learning experiences at a time when the credibility of online education remains fragile.

Historically, investors and institutions have backed away from Ambow. The company was delisted from the NYSE in 2014 following accounting fraud allegations and shareholder lawsuits. It has struggled to maintain financial health and transparency. Its last remaining U.S. college, NewSchool of Architecture and Design in San Diego, has just 280 students and is currently under Heightened Cash Monitoring (HCM2) by the U.S. Department of Education. Lawsuits in San Diego allege non-payment of rent and unpaid compensation to the school’s former president. 

Meanwhile, Ambow has commissioned favorable research reports—like one from Argus Research—even though its spending on research and development remains remarkably low, at only $100,000 per quarter. Its current auditor, Prouden CPA, is new to the company’s books and based in China. Whether Ambow’s next annual report will bring clarity or further confusion remains to be seen.

For these reasons, The Higher Education Inquirer urges the leadership of Colorado State University to approach Ambow with skepticism and perform exhaustive due diligence. The CSU community deserves full transparency regarding Ambow’s ownership, financial practices, and data handling policies. Decisions should be made in consultation with cybersecurity experts, faculty, IT professionals, and government advisors. Alternative domestic edtech providers should be considered—especially those that are accountable, proven, and aligned with CSU’s mission.

At a time when public trust in higher education is strained and geopolitical tensions are high, it is not enough to adopt flashy technology for the sake of appearance. Colorado State University—and the taxpayers who support it—deserve better than an experiment based on unproven claims and a troubling history. CSU should reconsider any move forward with Ambow, before it finds itself entangled in another education debacle disguised as innovation.