Showing posts with label climate change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label climate change. Show all posts
Sunday, February 9, 2025
Tuesday, December 10, 2024
Viral Video Shows Franklin Fire Raging Outside Pepperdine University Library Doors (Weather Channel)
Pepperdine University issued a shelter-in-place order
just after 1 a.m. local time on Tuesday, Dec. 10, ordering those on
campus to seek shelter at either the Tyler Campus Center or Payson
Library as the Franklin Fire raged nearby.
Footage shared by the user @ew_its_kat on X appears to show the students’ perspective "from inside the library" of firefighters battling the blaze.
Thursday, December 5, 2024
How might we do climate action in academia under a second Trump administration? (Bryan Alexander)
With the reelection of Donald Trump, a candidate who has flaunted his desire for autocracy—aided and abetted by a Republican-controlled Congress that will not constrain him with guardrails—the United States is now poised to become an authoritarian state ruled by plutocrats and fossil fuel interests. It is now, in short, a petrostate.
–professor Michael Mann, Bulletin of Atomic Scientists
How can we do climate crisis work within the higher education ecosystem under a second Trump administration?
With today’s post I’d like to explore strategic options in the present and near future. This is for everyone, but I’ll conclude with some self-reflection. My focus here will be on the United States, yet not exclusively so.
(I’ve been tracking possibilities for a Trump return for a while. Here’s the most recent post.)
Climate change under Trump: pressures on higher education
To begin with, the threat is that president Trump will undo federal support for climate action across the board (for evidence of this, see statements in Agenda 47, Project 2025, and elsewhere). Beyond the federal government, Trump can cause spillover effects at state and local levels. This should strengthen red states, counties, and cities in anti-climate policies and stances.
That governmental change will likely have direct impacts on higher education. About two thirds of American colleges and universities are public, meaning state-owned and -directed and therefore quite exposed to political pressures. Academics working in those institutions will be vulnerable to those forces, depending on their situation (institutional type, what a government actually does, the structural supports for units and individuals). How many academics – faculty, staff, students – will be less likely to undertake or support climate action? Will senior administrators be similarly disinclined to take strategic direction for climate purposes?
Beyond governments, how would the return of Trump to national power, complete with Republican control of Congress and the Supreme Court, shape private entities in their academic work? I’m thinking here of non-governmental funders, such as foundations, along with the many businesses which work with post-secondary education (publishers, ed tech companies, food service, etc.). Researchers studying global warming might have a harder time getting grants. Some funders might back off of academics doing climate work of all kinds. This can impact private as well as public academic institutions.
On the international side, Trump’s promised withdrawal from the Paris agreement and his repeated dismissal of climate change might make it harder for American academics to connect with global partners. Without simplifying too much, non-American academics might find Trump 2.0 an extra barrier to partnering with peers in the United States, especially if their national or local governments also took up anti-climate positions. International businesses developing decarbonization goods and services might step back from a newly Trumpified America (here’s one recent example).
Beyond those entities we should expect various forms of cultural resistance to climate work. Leaders from Trump and Vance on down can stir up popular attitudes and actions; the anti-immigrant focus on Springfield, Ohio gives one example. Politically-engaged individuals can challenge, threaten, or attack academics whom they see as doing harmful actions along climate lines.
On the other hand, academics might draw support from governments, businesses, nonprofits, and individuals who resist MAGA and seek to pursue climate goals. We could see governmental climate energies devolve below the federal level to states and below. Hypothetically, a professor in, say, California or Vermont might fare better than peers in Texas or South Carolina.
To be fair, political boundaries might not be cut and dried. Climate disasters might change minds. Republicans who benefit from the surviving pieces of Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act might decide not to oppose academics doing climate work. The low costs of solar can trump (as it were) ideology. And insurance companies seem likely to continue their forceful actions of denying coverage and increasing fees in especially endangered areas.
I’ve been speaking of the academic population as a whole, but we should bear in mind the district experience of campus leaders (presidents, chancellors, system administrators, provosts, vice presidents, deans) in this situation. They play a decisive role in supporting climate action through setting strategic directions, developing programs, and, of course, providing funding. In my experience of researching academic climate action and thinking I’ve found this population to be, all too often, resistant to the idea for a variety of reasons: perceived lack of faculty interest; concerns about board/state government politics; anxieties about community response; fears of financial challenges. Then the Gaza protests happened and campus leaders seem to me even more nervous about taking public stances. How will they act under a new Trump administration?
Recall that politicians can bypass those leaders. The recent Texas A&M story is illustrative in this regard. A state politician decided that the university should no longer offer a LGBTQ studies minor. Campus faculty and its president refused to end the program, but the institution’s board unilaterally terminated it. It’s easy to imagine parallel cases for climate activity, from offering a sustainability degree to overhauling buildings to reduce their carbon footprint, only to be met by a politician’s enmity.
Academic options and possibilities
So what can we do now?
One option is for those doing climate work to just keep on doing it, damning the torpedoes. After all, climate action has historically elicited blowback and hostility, so Trump 2.0 is nothing new. Perhaps it’s a difference in kind, not degree. Academics who see themselves having institutional or other backing (tenure, private funding, benefactors) may just continue. Some might relish the prospect of a public fight.
The public/private divide might be a powerful one. Being employed by, or taking classes at, a state university makes climate politics potentially powerful, even dispositive. Blue states might double down on climate action, which could take the form of new regulations forcing campuses to decarbonize more rapidly or to include global warming in general education. Red states, in contrast, can disincentivize faculty, staff, and students from the full range of climate action, making teaching, research, campus operational changes more difficult, even dangerous.
In contrast, academics affiliated with private colleges and universities might enjoy greater political latitude, at least in terms of direct governmental authority. Some might find themselves constrained by their non-governmental institutional affiliations – i.e., by their churches, if they’re a religious school. Economic and cultural pressures can also hit academics in private institutions. That said, we could see private campuses take a leading role compared with their public colleagues.
What new forms might academic climate action take?
We could well see new informal support networks appear, perhaps quietly, perhaps openly. This could take place via a variety of technological frameworks, from Discord to email. People involved will need others working on the same lines. There are already some formal networks, like AASHE and Second Nature. They might serve as bulwarks against hostility. We could also see new nonprofits form to support academic climate action.
Another tactic might be to establish a for-profit company to do climate work. This might sound strange, but businesses often appeal to the famously business-friendly GOP. An LLC or S-corp doing climate work in higher education could look less Green New Deal-y.
Will we see academics become more public in their climate research, perhaps participating in government lobbying, civic demonstrations, or more? After all, four more years of Trump means we will see increased American greenhouse gas emissions. The crisis is worsening, and that fact might engage more faculty, staff, and students to resist. Perhaps campuses will become centers or hubs of all kinds of climate action.
Furthermore, we might see more direct action. American colleges and universities have seen little of this so far, as opposed to European institutions. There have been some initial, tentative signs of this outside of the academy, like Just Stop Oil spray painting an American embassy in the United Kingdom.
Might we see American students, staff, faculty letting the air out of SUVs, damaging oil infrastructure, pie-ing fossil fuel company executives, or more?
A very different tactic for academics to consider is to be stealthy in order to avoid hostile attention. Not talking about one’s new climate class on social media, not sharing global warming research on TikTok, not doing a public talk in the community might be appealing tactics. Similarly, scholars might avoid publishing in open access journals in favor of those behind high paywalls. We could organize using private messaging apps, like Signal.
We could also stop. We might judge the moment too dangerous to proceed. Think about the largest population of faculty, adjuncts, who have so little workplace protections. They might deem it safer to go dark for a few years until things are less dangerous. Consider academics in various forms of marginalization – by race, religion, gender, professional position – as well as those with non-academic pressures (financial, familial). How many of us will pause this work for the time being?
Those academics who are committed to climate work are thinking about such choices now. And some may be participating in conversations about these options.
Let me close on a moment of self-reflection.
I’ve been doing climate research for years as part of my overall work on higher education’s future. This has taken many forms, including a scholarly book, blog writing, teaching, and a lot of presentations, both in-person and virtual. I have been participating in several networks of like-minded folks. I’ve hosted and interviewed climate experts in various venues. Overall, I work climate change into nearly everything I do professionally.
Yet I am an independent, as some of you know. I do not have a tenured or full time academic position. I don’t have independent wealth backing me up. Doing climate work is increasingly risky. To the extent that people know my commitment, I might quietly lose work, allies, colleagues, supporters. I have seen some signs of this already. Similarly, the public nature of what I do opens me up to the possibility of public attacks. I have not yet experienced this.
My philosophy of work – heck, of life – is that it’s better when shared with other people, hence my longtime preference for sharing so much of what I do online. This makes my work better, I think. Yet now, with a new and energetic conservative administration in the country where I live and do most of my work, perhaps this is too risky. I’ve already received advice to run dark, to do climate and other work underground.
Or maybe this is me overthinking things, starting at shadows. These are possibilities, each contingent on many factors and developments in a sprawling and complex academic ecosystem. We could see versions of all of the above playing out at the same time. Some presidents may boldly lead their institutions into accelerated climate action, while others forbid faculty and staff from any such activity. Some professors may launch new climate-focused classes while others delay teaching theirs for years. Staff members in a blue state might set up organic farms and push for fossil fuel vehicle parking fees, while others focus on other topics and keep their heads down. Some of us will make content for public view while others head underground.
Everything I know about climate change tells me this is a vast, civilization-wide crisis which humanity is struggling to apprehend, and that academia can play a significant role in addressing it if we choose to do so. Today I do not feel comfortable advising individuals on what each person should best do in this new political era. But I want to place the options before the public for discussion, to the extent people feel they should participate.
I hope I can keep doing this work. It needs to be done.
(thanks to the Hechinger Report and many friends including Karen Costa and Joe Murphy)
How can we do climate crisis work within the higher education ecosystem under a second Trump administration?
With today’s post I’d like to explore strategic options in the present and near future. This is for everyone, but I’ll conclude with some self-reflection. My focus here will be on the United States, yet not exclusively so.
(I’ve been tracking possibilities for a Trump return for a while. Here’s the most recent post.)
Climate change under Trump: pressures on higher education
To begin with, the threat is that president Trump will undo federal support for climate action across the board (for evidence of this, see statements in Agenda 47, Project 2025, and elsewhere). Beyond the federal government, Trump can cause spillover effects at state and local levels. This should strengthen red states, counties, and cities in anti-climate policies and stances.
That governmental change will likely have direct impacts on higher education. About two thirds of American colleges and universities are public, meaning state-owned and -directed and therefore quite exposed to political pressures. Academics working in those institutions will be vulnerable to those forces, depending on their situation (institutional type, what a government actually does, the structural supports for units and individuals). How many academics – faculty, staff, students – will be less likely to undertake or support climate action? Will senior administrators be similarly disinclined to take strategic direction for climate purposes?
Beyond governments, how would the return of Trump to national power, complete with Republican control of Congress and the Supreme Court, shape private entities in their academic work? I’m thinking here of non-governmental funders, such as foundations, along with the many businesses which work with post-secondary education (publishers, ed tech companies, food service, etc.). Researchers studying global warming might have a harder time getting grants. Some funders might back off of academics doing climate work of all kinds. This can impact private as well as public academic institutions.
On the international side, Trump’s promised withdrawal from the Paris agreement and his repeated dismissal of climate change might make it harder for American academics to connect with global partners. Without simplifying too much, non-American academics might find Trump 2.0 an extra barrier to partnering with peers in the United States, especially if their national or local governments also took up anti-climate positions. International businesses developing decarbonization goods and services might step back from a newly Trumpified America (here’s one recent example).
Beyond those entities we should expect various forms of cultural resistance to climate work. Leaders from Trump and Vance on down can stir up popular attitudes and actions; the anti-immigrant focus on Springfield, Ohio gives one example. Politically-engaged individuals can challenge, threaten, or attack academics whom they see as doing harmful actions along climate lines.
On the other hand, academics might draw support from governments, businesses, nonprofits, and individuals who resist MAGA and seek to pursue climate goals. We could see governmental climate energies devolve below the federal level to states and below. Hypothetically, a professor in, say, California or Vermont might fare better than peers in Texas or South Carolina.
To be fair, political boundaries might not be cut and dried. Climate disasters might change minds. Republicans who benefit from the surviving pieces of Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act might decide not to oppose academics doing climate work. The low costs of solar can trump (as it were) ideology. And insurance companies seem likely to continue their forceful actions of denying coverage and increasing fees in especially endangered areas.
I’ve been speaking of the academic population as a whole, but we should bear in mind the district experience of campus leaders (presidents, chancellors, system administrators, provosts, vice presidents, deans) in this situation. They play a decisive role in supporting climate action through setting strategic directions, developing programs, and, of course, providing funding. In my experience of researching academic climate action and thinking I’ve found this population to be, all too often, resistant to the idea for a variety of reasons: perceived lack of faculty interest; concerns about board/state government politics; anxieties about community response; fears of financial challenges. Then the Gaza protests happened and campus leaders seem to me even more nervous about taking public stances. How will they act under a new Trump administration?
Recall that politicians can bypass those leaders. The recent Texas A&M story is illustrative in this regard. A state politician decided that the university should no longer offer a LGBTQ studies minor. Campus faculty and its president refused to end the program, but the institution’s board unilaterally terminated it. It’s easy to imagine parallel cases for climate activity, from offering a sustainability degree to overhauling buildings to reduce their carbon footprint, only to be met by a politician’s enmity.
Academic options and possibilities
So what can we do now?
One option is for those doing climate work to just keep on doing it, damning the torpedoes. After all, climate action has historically elicited blowback and hostility, so Trump 2.0 is nothing new. Perhaps it’s a difference in kind, not degree. Academics who see themselves having institutional or other backing (tenure, private funding, benefactors) may just continue. Some might relish the prospect of a public fight.
The public/private divide might be a powerful one. Being employed by, or taking classes at, a state university makes climate politics potentially powerful, even dispositive. Blue states might double down on climate action, which could take the form of new regulations forcing campuses to decarbonize more rapidly or to include global warming in general education. Red states, in contrast, can disincentivize faculty, staff, and students from the full range of climate action, making teaching, research, campus operational changes more difficult, even dangerous.
In contrast, academics affiliated with private colleges and universities might enjoy greater political latitude, at least in terms of direct governmental authority. Some might find themselves constrained by their non-governmental institutional affiliations – i.e., by their churches, if they’re a religious school. Economic and cultural pressures can also hit academics in private institutions. That said, we could see private campuses take a leading role compared with their public colleagues.
What new forms might academic climate action take?
We could well see new informal support networks appear, perhaps quietly, perhaps openly. This could take place via a variety of technological frameworks, from Discord to email. People involved will need others working on the same lines. There are already some formal networks, like AASHE and Second Nature. They might serve as bulwarks against hostility. We could also see new nonprofits form to support academic climate action.
Another tactic might be to establish a for-profit company to do climate work. This might sound strange, but businesses often appeal to the famously business-friendly GOP. An LLC or S-corp doing climate work in higher education could look less Green New Deal-y.
Will we see academics become more public in their climate research, perhaps participating in government lobbying, civic demonstrations, or more? After all, four more years of Trump means we will see increased American greenhouse gas emissions. The crisis is worsening, and that fact might engage more faculty, staff, and students to resist. Perhaps campuses will become centers or hubs of all kinds of climate action.
Furthermore, we might see more direct action. American colleges and universities have seen little of this so far, as opposed to European institutions. There have been some initial, tentative signs of this outside of the academy, like Just Stop Oil spray painting an American embassy in the United Kingdom.
Might we see American students, staff, faculty letting the air out of SUVs, damaging oil infrastructure, pie-ing fossil fuel company executives, or more?
A very different tactic for academics to consider is to be stealthy in order to avoid hostile attention. Not talking about one’s new climate class on social media, not sharing global warming research on TikTok, not doing a public talk in the community might be appealing tactics. Similarly, scholars might avoid publishing in open access journals in favor of those behind high paywalls. We could organize using private messaging apps, like Signal.
We could also stop. We might judge the moment too dangerous to proceed. Think about the largest population of faculty, adjuncts, who have so little workplace protections. They might deem it safer to go dark for a few years until things are less dangerous. Consider academics in various forms of marginalization – by race, religion, gender, professional position – as well as those with non-academic pressures (financial, familial). How many of us will pause this work for the time being?
Those academics who are committed to climate work are thinking about such choices now. And some may be participating in conversations about these options.
Let me close on a moment of self-reflection.
I’ve been doing climate research for years as part of my overall work on higher education’s future. This has taken many forms, including a scholarly book, blog writing, teaching, and a lot of presentations, both in-person and virtual. I have been participating in several networks of like-minded folks. I’ve hosted and interviewed climate experts in various venues. Overall, I work climate change into nearly everything I do professionally.
Yet I am an independent, as some of you know. I do not have a tenured or full time academic position. I don’t have independent wealth backing me up. Doing climate work is increasingly risky. To the extent that people know my commitment, I might quietly lose work, allies, colleagues, supporters. I have seen some signs of this already. Similarly, the public nature of what I do opens me up to the possibility of public attacks. I have not yet experienced this.
My philosophy of work – heck, of life – is that it’s better when shared with other people, hence my longtime preference for sharing so much of what I do online. This makes my work better, I think. Yet now, with a new and energetic conservative administration in the country where I live and do most of my work, perhaps this is too risky. I’ve already received advice to run dark, to do climate and other work underground.
Or maybe this is me overthinking things, starting at shadows. These are possibilities, each contingent on many factors and developments in a sprawling and complex academic ecosystem. We could see versions of all of the above playing out at the same time. Some presidents may boldly lead their institutions into accelerated climate action, while others forbid faculty and staff from any such activity. Some professors may launch new climate-focused classes while others delay teaching theirs for years. Staff members in a blue state might set up organic farms and push for fossil fuel vehicle parking fees, while others focus on other topics and keep their heads down. Some of us will make content for public view while others head underground.
Everything I know about climate change tells me this is a vast, civilization-wide crisis which humanity is struggling to apprehend, and that academia can play a significant role in addressing it if we choose to do so. Today I do not feel comfortable advising individuals on what each person should best do in this new political era. But I want to place the options before the public for discussion, to the extent people feel they should participate.
I hope I can keep doing this work. It needs to be done.
(thanks to the Hechinger Report and many friends including Karen Costa and Joe Murphy)
Bryan Alexander is an award–winning,
internationally known futurist, researcher, writer, speaker,
consultant, and teacher, working in the field of higher education’s
future. He is currently a senior scholar at Georgetown University. This article was originally published at BryanAlexander.org.
Tuesday, November 19, 2024
Austerity and Disruption
With a concerted effort now to reduce government spending, higher education leaders should expect reduced state and federal support in 2025 and beyond, with demographic and climate trends also darkening the clouds. Workers and consumers should also see it all coming.
Austerity has already begun. In July 2024, the Pew Foundation reported that state budgets were facing cuts as Covid-era funds ended. The most notable cuts are coming to the California State University System, which is expected to reduce its budget by hundred of millions of dollars. But several other states are feeling the pinch.
Austerity for higher education is also likely to increase at the state level as baby boomers reach advanced age and require more medical attention and nursing home care. How this demographic cliff of old age, reduced fertility, and fluctuating populations plays out will vary greatly across the United States.
Some Southern states, like Florida, Texas, Georgia, and North Carolina, have improved financially despite threats from climate change. Anti-tax, anti-regulation, and anti-union laws make them friendly to corporations in search of relocation and a better deal. States in the West, like Utah, Arizona, and Nevada, are are also likely to continue thriving. Besides climate change, which is profoundly disruptive but takes generations to notice, mass deportations could affect their economies quickly--if the Trump Administration's threats can be carried out.
Alaska, New Mexico, Oregon, and several states in the Midwest and Atlantic regions will face more austerity as their populations remain stagnant or decline and folks move to states with lower housing costs and less taxes, leaving others to die. Deaths of despair among youth will continue to ravage them. What happens with these failing states in the future is anyone's guess. One would hope higher education leaders would have solutions and be courageous enough to act, or at the very least allow those with solutions to talk.
Thursday, October 17, 2024
Universities on Fire wins AAC&U book award (Bryan Alexander)
For the past several years I’d focused much of my research capacity on forecasting how the climate crisis might impact higher education, and what academics might do in response. That work appeared in many blog posts, presentations, meetings, Future Trends Forum sessions, and my 2023 book, Universities on Fire.
Today I’m delighted to announce that this work has received some splendid recognition. The American Association of Colleges and Universities is a 109-year-old organization devoted to liberal education, with more than 1,000 campuses as members. AAC&U has just chosen Universities on Fire for its Frederic W. Ness Book Award. The award goes to books which make “outstanding contributions to the understanding and improvement of liberal education.”
More important than my own self and career, by choosing to give the Ness award to Universities on Fire the AAC&U indicates that climate change should be a major concern for colleges and universities. It connects global warming to liberal education by virtue of the award’s emphasis “on liberal education as an evolving tradition,” as well as by signaling climate as “an issue or topic in postsecondary education that is discussed substantially in relation to liberal education.”
This is how they describe climate change as the very point of this year’s award:
“Among an exceptionally strong pool of nominees, Universities on Fire stood out because of how effectively and constructively it speaks to the urgency of the moment—its subject matter, interdisciplinarity, creativity, continual grounding in learning, and focus on the future,” said [Lynn] Pasquerella [president of AAC&U].
I’m so glad they recognized the interdisciplinary nature of the topic. I raised the idea that responding to climate change might be the new liberal arts.
AAC&U has long been a leader in encouraging higher education to address a series of key topics. The organization created the high impact learning practices (HIP) model, which helped institutions implement those teaching and student support ideas. Similarly, AAC&U advanced the concept of liberal education preparing students for active civic life, as well as supporting diversity, equity, and inclusion . They also introduced eportfolios to campus assessment and curricular strategies. My hope is that the group now adds climate thought and action to that list of major, good ideas… and that colleges and universities are inspired to think and act accordingly.
I’m deeply grateful to AAC&U for this award and excited about what comes next.
Today I’m delighted to announce that this work has received some splendid recognition. The American Association of Colleges and Universities is a 109-year-old organization devoted to liberal education, with more than 1,000 campuses as members. AAC&U has just chosen Universities on Fire for its Frederic W. Ness Book Award. The award goes to books which make “outstanding contributions to the understanding and improvement of liberal education.”
More important than my own self and career, by choosing to give the Ness award to Universities on Fire the AAC&U indicates that climate change should be a major concern for colleges and universities. It connects global warming to liberal education by virtue of the award’s emphasis “on liberal education as an evolving tradition,” as well as by signaling climate as “an issue or topic in postsecondary education that is discussed substantially in relation to liberal education.”
This is how they describe climate change as the very point of this year’s award:
“Among an exceptionally strong pool of nominees, Universities on Fire stood out because of how effectively and constructively it speaks to the urgency of the moment—its subject matter, interdisciplinarity, creativity, continual grounding in learning, and focus on the future,” said [Lynn] Pasquerella [president of AAC&U].
I’m so glad they recognized the interdisciplinary nature of the topic. I raised the idea that responding to climate change might be the new liberal arts.
AAC&U has long been a leader in encouraging higher education to address a series of key topics. The organization created the high impact learning practices (HIP) model, which helped institutions implement those teaching and student support ideas. Similarly, AAC&U advanced the concept of liberal education preparing students for active civic life, as well as supporting diversity, equity, and inclusion . They also introduced eportfolios to campus assessment and curricular strategies. My hope is that the group now adds climate thought and action to that list of major, good ideas… and that colleges and universities are inspired to think and act accordingly.
I’m deeply grateful to AAC&U for this award and excited about what comes next.
Wednesday, October 9, 2024
Shall we all pretend we didn't see it coming, again?: higher education, climate change, climate refugees, and climate denial by elites
Can US higher education do much to reduce climate change, either as a leader or as a teacher? The answer so far is no. That's not to say that there aren't universities (like Rutgers) doing outstanding climate change research or students concerned about the planet's future. There are. But that research and resistance is outweighed by those who control higher education, trustees and endowment managers, and their financial interests.
While devastating occurrences like Hurricane Helene (and possibly Hurricane Milton) serve as high-rated entertainment, news coverage also makes the stakes seemingly more visible to those who are not directly affected.
For many, hurricanes, wildfires, tornadoes, and heat waves are quickly forgotten or remembered merely as single acts of god or seasonal anomalies, not as ongoing acts of greedy rich men. And melting icebergs and disappearing islands are something most Americans don't see, at least firsthand. Generations of data and information are ignored by those who are poorly educated and those who claim to be educated, but uneducated morally.
Predictions of more global conflicts and an estimated 1.2 billion climate chaos refugees are barely mentioned in the news, but they are looming.
Related links:
Thinking about climate change and international study (Bryan Alexander)Monday, September 23, 2024
Wealth and Want Part 1: Multi-Billion Dollar Endowments
US higher education reflects and reinforces a world of increasing inequality, injustice, and inhumanity. This system (or some would call it an industry) should function as a conduit between good K-12 education, good jobs, and the wellness of all its citizens, whether they attend or not. But increasingly, it does not.
The Endowment Elite and Ill-Gotten Gains
At the pinnacle of higher education wealth are Harvard ($49B), The University of Texas System ($44B), Yale ($40B), Stanford ($36B), and Princeton ($34B). These institutions have amassed endowments that provide a steady stream of income for investments, scholarships, and research initiatives.
Elite endowments are often the result of centuries of fundraising, donations, and strategic (sometimes shady) investments.
Historical Context and Structural Inequality
- Land Theft and the Founding of Institutions: The establishment of many American universities, including Ivy League institutions and those founded under the Morrill Act, was often intertwined with land theft from Native American tribes. This practice, often referred to as "land dispossession" or "Indian removal," was a key component of Manifest Destiny and the expansion of European settlement across the continent.
- Ivy League Universities: Institutions like Harvard, Yale, and Columbia were granted land by colonial governments, which often acquired these lands through treaties that were coerced or violated. They also used enslaved labor to build and maintain their wealth.
- Funding Models: The funding models for public higher education often favor larger, research-intensive universities. This can lead to underfunding for smaller, less prestigious institutions, particularly those serving marginalized communities.
- Endowment Inequality and Profits Over People and Planet: Endowments are a powerful tool for wealth accumulation and institutional advantage. The concentration of endowments in a few elite universities can exacerbate existing inequalities and create a self-perpetuating cycle of privilege. These endowments have also engaged in shady investments that perpetuated worker oppression, genocide, and environmental destruction.
Related links:
Tax Wealthy Private Universities Now (Paul Prescod, Jacobin)Wednesday, September 11, 2024
Higher Education Uncensored
The Higher Education Inquirer is a rare space for students (consumers), workers, debtors, and community members to speak the truth about higher education and its most important issues, including the truth related to climate change and environmental destruction, human rights, student rights and worker rights, mass surveillance and policing, sexual assault and rape culture, racism and bullying, mental illness and suicide prevention, hypercredentialism, student loan debt and underemployment, NCAA money sports, higher education scams, cheating, and AI, university endowments, land theft and gentrification by universities, and any issues that are too politically charged for other news outlets to consider.
HEI fills this role because many student newspapers cannot perform that service. No mainstream media outlet (large or industry niche) or nonprofit can do that either. In those cases, the purse strings affect what is published and what isn't. Writers and editors are censored, and sometimes they censor themselves to avoid retribution or the possibility of retribution. If you are a student journalist, whistleblower, or concerned citizen, we invite you to submit your work to us. If you have a petition or an event, or want to leak documents anonymously, please let us know.
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