Should Elites Get Bailed Out Again?

In 1929, when the stock market crashed, millions of Americans were plunged into unemployment, hunger, and despair. Yet the elites of Wall Street—whose reckless speculation fueled the disaster—often landed softly. By 1933, as the Great Depression deepened, nearly a quarter of the U.S. workforce was unemployed, thousands of banks had failed, and working families bore the brunt of the collapse. Ordinary people endured soup lines, Dust Bowl migration, and generational poverty. The government of Franklin D. Roosevelt eventually stepped in with reforms and safeguards like the FDIC and Glass-Steagall, but not before working-class Americans had paid the heaviest price.

Fast forward to 2008, when the global financial system once again teetered on collapse. This time, instead of letting the failures run their course, the U.S. government rushed to bail out Wall Street banks, auto manufacturers, and other corporate giants deemed “too big to fail.” Banks survived, CEOs kept their bonuses, and investors were shielded. Meanwhile, millions of working-class families lost their homes, jobs, and savings. Student loan borrowers, particularly those from working-class and minority backgrounds, never got a bailout. Adjunct faculty, contract workers, and gig laborers were left to navigate economic insecurity without systemic relief.

The pandemic brought the same story in a new form. Corporate bailouts, Federal Reserve interventions, and stimulus packages stabilized markets far more effectively than they stabilized households. Wall Street bounced back faster than Main Street. By 2021, the wealth of America’s billionaires had surged by more than $1.8 trillion, while ordinary workers struggled with eviction threats, childcare crises, and medical debt.

But the stakes are even higher today. U.S. elites are not only repeating past mistakes—they are doubling down on mass speculation across Artificial Intelligence, crypto, real estate, and equity markets. The rise and collapse of speculative cryptocurrencies revealed how wealth can be created and destroyed almost overnight, with everyday investors bearing the losses while venture capitalists and insiders cashed out early. Real estate speculation has driven housing prices beyond the reach of millions of working families, fueling homelessness and displacement. Equity markets, inflated by cheap debt and stock buybacks, have become disconnected from the real economy, rewarding executives while leaving workers behind.

This speculative frenzy is not just an economic issue—it is an environmental one. Artificial Intelligence requires enormous data farms that use lots of energy.  Fossil fuel corporations and their financiers continue to reap profits from industries that accelerate climate change, deforestation, and resource depletion. The destruction of ecosystems, the intensification of climate disasters, and the burden of environmental cleanup all fall disproportionately on working-class and marginalized communities. Yet when markets wobble, it is these same polluting elites who position themselves first in line for government protection.

The Federal Reserve has played a decisive role in this cycle. By keeping interest rates artificially low for years, it fueled debt-driven speculation in housing, equities, and corporate borrowing. When inflation spiked, the Fed shifted gears, raising rates at the fastest pace in decades. This brought pain to households through higher mortgage costs, rising credit card balances, and job insecurity—but banks and investment firms continued to receive lifelines through emergency lending facilities. The Fed’s interventions have too often prioritized elite stability over working-class survival.

Political leadership has compounded the problem. Under Donald Trump's first term, deregulation accelerated, with key provisions of the Dodd-Frank Act rolled back in 2018. Banks gained greater leeway to take risks, and oversight of mid-sized institutions weakened—a decision that later contributed to the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank in 2023. Trump’s tax cuts overwhelmingly favored corporations and the wealthy, further concentrating wealth at the top while leaving the federal government less able to respond to future crises. In his second term, Trump and his allies signal that they would pressure the Fed to prioritize markets over workers and strip down remaining regulatory guardrails.

The logic of endless bailouts assumes that the survival of elites ensures the survival of the economy. But history proves otherwise. Whether in 1929, 2008, or 2020, the repeated subsidization of corporations and financial elites entrenches inequality, fuels reckless risk-taking, and leaves working families with the bill. The banks, crypto funds, and private equity firms that profit most during boom times rarely share their gains, yet they demand protection in busts.

And the problem is no longer just domestic—it is geopolitical. While U.S. elites depend on bailouts, rival powers are recalibrating. China is building alternative banking systems through the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank and the Belt and Road Initiative. Russia, sanctioned by the West, is tightening its economic ties with China and other non-Western states. India and Brazil, key players in the BRICS bloc, are exploring alternatives to U.S. dollar dominance. If the U.S. continues to subsidize private failure with public money, it risks undermining its own global credibility and ceding economic leadership to rivals.

National security is directly tied to economic and environmental stability. A U.S. that repeatedly bails out elites while leaving ordinary citizens vulnerable erodes trust not only at home but abroad. Allies may question American leadership, while adversaries see opportunity in its fragility. If the U.S. financial system is perceived as permanently rigged—propping up elites while disempowering its workforce—it will accelerate the shift of global influence toward China, Russia, India, and Brazil.

Perhaps it’s time to let the system fail—not in the sense of mass suffering for ordinary people, but in the sense of refusing to cushion elites from the consequences of their own decisions. If banks gamble recklessly, let them face bankruptcy. If private equity firms strip-mine industries, let them collapse under their own weight. If universities chase speculative growth with predatory lending and overpriced credentials, let them answer for it in the courts of law and public opinion.

Failure, though painful, can also be cleansing. Without bailouts, institutions would be forced to reckon with structural flaws instead of papering them over. Alternatives could emerge: community-based credit unions, worker-owned cooperatives, public higher education funded for the public good rather than private profit, and serious investment in green energy and sustainable development.

The real question is not whether elites deserve another bailout. The real question is whether the United States can afford to keep subsidizing them while undermining its working class, its environment, and its national security. For too long, workers, students, and families have shouldered the costs of elite failure. The survival of the U.S. economy—and its place in the world—may depend not on saving elites, but on building something stronger and fairer in their place.

---

Sources:

• Congressional Budget Office, The 2008 Financial Crisis and Federal Response

• Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, Bank Failures During the Great Depression

• Institute for Policy Studies, Billionaire Wealth Surge During COVID-19

• Federal Reserve, Monetary Policy and Emergency Lending Facilities

• Brookings Institution, Bailouts and Moral Hazard

• BRICS Policy Center, Alternative Financial Governance Structures

• Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), Climate Change 2023 Synthesis Report

• National Association of Realtors, Housing Affordability Data

• Public Law 115-174, Economic Growth, Regulatory Relief, and Consumer Protection Act (2018)

Climate Denial and Conservative Amnesia: A Letter to Charlie Kirk and TPUSA

Charlie Kirk and Turning Point USA have built an empire of outrage—rallying young conservatives on college campuses, feeding them culture war talking points, and mocking science in the name of “free thinking.” At the top of their hit list? Climate change. According to TPUSA, man-made global warming is a hoax, a leftist ploy to expand government, or simply not worth worrying about. But this isn’t rebellion—it’s willful ignorance. And worse, it’s a betrayal of the conservative legacy of environmental stewardship.

Let’s be clear: man-made climate change is real. It is measurable, observable, and already having devastating consequences across the planet. The science is not debatable. According to NASA and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, Earth’s average surface temperature has risen more than 2 degrees Fahrenheit since the late 19th century—largely driven by carbon emissions from human activities. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, which aggregates peer-reviewed science from around the world, states unequivocally that “human influence has warmed the atmosphere, ocean and land.”

If Charlie Kirk and TPUSA were interested in truth, they wouldn’t be spreading climate denial. They’d be listening to the 97 percent of actively publishing climate scientists who confirm that this warming is caused by humans. They’d look to the Department of Defense, which recognizes climate change as a national security threat. They’d pay attention to farmers losing crops to drought, families displaced by floods and wildfires, and millions of people suffering through record-breaking heat.

In 2023, Phoenix experienced 31 straight days above 110°F. In 2024, ocean temperatures reached the highest levels ever recorded, accelerating coral bleaching and threatening global fisheries. Canadian wildfires covered U.S. cities in toxic smoke. Coastal towns face rising seas. These are not “natural cycles.” They are the direct result of burning coal, oil, and gas at unsustainable levels—driven by short-term greed and fossil fuel lobbyists.

And that brings us to a painful irony. TPUSA claims to speak for the working class, for rural Americans, and for future generations. But these are exactly the people being hit first and hardest by climate change. Farmers in Texas and Kansas are watching their yields collapse. Gulf Coast communities are being battered by stronger hurricanes. Urban neighborhoods with little tree cover and poor infrastructure are turning into deadly heat islands. Denying climate change doesn’t protect these people—it abandons them.

But perhaps the worst betrayal is ideological. TPUSA calls itself conservative. Yet real conservatism means conserving what matters—our land, our water, our air, and our future. And in this regard, the Republican Party once led the way.

It was Republican President Theodore Roosevelt who pioneered American conservation. He created national parks, forests, and wildlife refuges. He didn’t call environmental protection socialism—he called it patriotism.

It was Republican Richard Nixon who signed the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, and the Endangered Species Act. He founded the Environmental Protection Agency, understanding that pollution was not just bad for nature—it was bad for people and for capitalism itself.

Even Ronald Reagan, whose presidency is often associated with deregulation, signed the 1987 Montreal Protocol, an international agreement to phase out ozone-depleting chemicals. The result? The ozone layer began to heal—one of the greatest environmental successes in human history.

More recently, conservative leaders like Bob Inglis, Carlos Curbelo, Larry Hogan, and Susan Collins have advocated for carbon pricing, clean energy investments, and bipartisan climate action. Groups like RepublicEn, Citizens for Responsible Energy Solutions, and the American Conservation Coalition are working to reintroduce common-sense environmentalism to the Republican movement. These are not radicals. They are conservatives who understand that freedom means nothing without a livable planet.

Young Republicans increasingly agree. Polls show that Gen Z conservatives are far more likely than older Republicans to support climate action. They’ve grown up in a world of extreme weather, mass extinction, and economic uncertainty. They know the cost of inaction. They see through the oil-funded lies.

So what exactly is TPUSA conserving? Not the environment. Not scientific integrity. Not the truth. They are conserving ignorance—and protecting the profits of ExxonMobil, Koch Industries, and the very fossil fuel billionaires who knew the risks of climate change in the 1970s and chose to deceive the public anyway. (See: Harvard University’s 2023 study on Exxon’s internal climate models.)

If TPUSA is serious about freedom, they must realize that freedom cannot exist without responsibility. There is no free market on a burning planet. There is no liberty when wildfires choke your air, when hurricanes destroy your home, or when heatwaves kill your grandparents.

We challenge Charlie Kirk and TPUSA not to “own the libs,” but to own the truth. Talk to climate scientists. Visit frontline communities. Debate conservatives like Bob Inglis who actually care about the world they’re leaving behind. Break the echo chamber. Lead with courage instead of trolling for clicks.

The earth does not care about your ideology. It cares about physics. And physics is winning.

Sources:

NASA – Climate Change Evidence and Causes: https://climate.nasa.gov
NOAA – Global Climate Reports: https://www.ncei.noaa.gov
IPCC Sixth Assessment Report, 2023: https://www.ipcc.ch
Harvard – Exxon’s Early Climate Models, Science, Jan 2023
U.S. Department of Defense – Climate Risk Analysis, 2022: https://www.defense.gov
Pew Research – Gen Z Republicans and Climate Change, 2023
RepublicEn – https://www.republicEn.org
American Conservation Coalition – https://www.acc.eco
Montreal Protocol overview – United Nations Environment Programme

The truth is not left or right. It is grounded in science, history, and conscience. Conservatives once led on environmental protection. They still can—if they’re brave enough to face the facts.

Lee Zeldin as EPA Administrator: A Deregulatory Revolution and Its Risks

Lee Michael Zeldin’s January 2025 confirmation as Administrator of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has triggered the most sweeping rollback of environmental protections in the agency’s history. Installed during President Trump’s second term, Zeldin’s tenure is marked by a radical deregulatory agenda that favors economic growth and fossil fuel interests over climate science, public health, and environmental justice.

---

Deregulation as Doctrine

Within weeks of taking office, Zeldin unveiled the “Powering the Great American Comeback Initiative,” a deregulatory blitz that erased 31 major environmental rules in a single day. This initiative aims to dismantle longstanding safeguards in pursuit of what Zeldin terms “energy realism” — a euphemism for expanding fossil fuel production and reducing regulatory hurdles.

Key actions include:

• Repealing vehicle emissions standards that had helped reduce greenhouse gases and urban pollution

• Weakening pollution controls on coal and natural gas power plants

• Narrowing the scope of the Clean Water Act, reducing protections for rivers, wetlands, and drinking water sources

• Fast-tracking permits for oil, gas, and mining projects, often at the expense of environmental review

Environmental advocates warn these rollbacks jeopardize public health and the environment by prioritizing short-term corporate profits over scientific evidence.

---

Climate Denial by Policy: The Endangerment Finding Under Siege

Perhaps the most consequential move is Zeldin’s effort to repeal the 2009 “Endangerment Finding,” which legally classified greenhouse gases as harmful to public health under the Clean Air Act. This ruling underpinned decades of federal climate regulation.

Zeldin claims repealing it will save $54 billion annually in compliance costs, calling it a “correction of regulatory overreach.” Legal experts and scientists counter that overturning the finding would strip the federal government of its ability to enforce climate protections and likely violate established legal precedents. Lawsuits challenging the repeal are already in preparation.

---

Budget Cuts and the Gutting of EPA Science

Zeldin’s deregulatory campaign is matched by a dramatic downsizing of the EPA itself. The Trump administration’s 2025 budget slashed the agency’s funding by 55%, gutting its scientific capacity.

Among the casualties:

• Cancellation of $3 billion in climate justice block grants aimed at addressing environmental disparities in low-income communities

• Elimination of clean energy funding for rooftop solar programs

• Cuts to Superfund site cleanups and environmental justice research

The Office of Research and Development, the EPA’s scientific core, has been dismantled, with thousands of staff reassigned or laid off. The agency now emphasizes “state collaboration” and “industry efficiency,” shifting regulatory power to often under-resourced states and industry self-policing.

---

Conspiracies, Culture Wars, and Science Under Siege

Zeldin’s EPA has also ventured into controversial territory, endorsing investigations into weather modification and “geoengineering transparency,” areas often linked to conspiracy theories. Internally, climate education materials are under review, and there are reports of pressure on universities to defund or redirect climate research away from contentious topics.

This ideological shift threatens to politicize science and erode the integrity of federal partnerships with academic institutions.

---

Implications for Higher Education

Though the EPA does not directly govern education policy, its policies and budget cuts send shockwaves through higher education, especially at public and land-grant universities focused on environmental science and agriculture.

• EPA grant funding for climate and environmental research faces severe cuts, jeopardizing ongoing projects and future STEM initiatives.

• Scientific partnerships between universities and the EPA are imperiled, risking a loss of federal research infrastructure.

• Climate policy education is increasingly vulnerable to ideological scrutiny and defunding pressures.

• Programs designed to encourage STEM participation among underserved communities are at risk of collapse without federal support.

These trends threaten to dismantle vital components of the STEM pipeline and undermine America’s ability to educate the next generation of environmental scientists and policymakers.

Lee Zeldin’s EPA represents a historic pivot away from climate action and environmental protection toward deregulation, austerity, and ideological control. The long-term consequences for public health, environmental justice, and higher education remain deeply uncertain — but the alarm bells are ringing loud.

Sources

• Environmental Protection Agency. “Administrator Zeldin Announces Powering the Great American Comeback Initiative.” epa.gov. March–July 2025.

• Winston & Strawn LLP. “EPA Launches Historic Deregulatory Plan.” March 2025.

• The Washington Post. “EPA Moves to Overturn Endangerment Finding.” July 29, 2025.

• Associated Press. “Democrats Say EPA Budget Cuts May Kill People.” July 2025.

• The Guardian. “EPA Halts $3 Billion Climate Justice Program; Lawsuit Looms.” August 5, 2025.

• The Week. “How the EPA Plans to Nullify Climate Science.” July 2025.

• New York Post. “Zeldin Aims to Cut ‘Woke’ Climate Spending, Slash Energy Costs.” July 2025.

• Times Union (Albany). “Editorial: EPA’s Dangerous Ignorance.” July 2025.

• CNN Interview. “Zeldin Defends Record, Faces Tough Questions.” July 2025.

Alaska’s Colleges at the Meltdown’s Edge—Just as the Arctic Heats Up

Alaska’s higher-ed story is a preview of the national “College Meltdown,” only starker. The University of Alaska (UA) system—Anchorage, Fairbanks, and Southeast—has endured a decade of enrollment erosion and austerity politics, punctuated by a 2019 budget crisis that forced regents to declare financial exigency and consider consolidations. The immediate trigger was a proposed $130+ million state cut, later converted into a three-year reduction compact; the long tail is a weakened public research engine in the very state where climate change is moving fastest.

In 2025 the vise tightened again from Washington. UA’s president told regents that more than $50 million in grants had been frozen or canceled under the Trump administration, warning of staff cuts and program impacts if funds failed to materialize. Those freezes were part of a broader chill: federal agencies stepping back from research that even references climate change, just as the Arctic’s transformation accelerates.

This is not an abstract loss. Alaska is the frontline laboratory of global warming: thawing permafrost, vanishing sea ice, collapsing coastal bluffs. UA’s scientists have documented these trends in successive “Alaska’s Changing Environment” assessments; the 2024 update underscores rapid, measurable shifts across temperature, sea ice, wildfire, hydrology, and ecosystems. When the main public research institution loses people and projects, the United States loses the data and know-how it needs to respond.

Climate denial collides with national security

The contradiction at the heart of federal policy is glaring. On one hand, the Trump administration has proposed opening vast swaths of Alaska’s National Petroleum Reserve to drilling and reversing environmental protections—signaling a bet on fossil expansion in a region already warming at double the global rate. On the other hand, the same administration is curtailing climate and Arctic science, even as military planners warn that the Arctic is becoming a contested theater. You can’t secure what you refuse to measure.

The security stakes are real. Russia has spent the past decade refurbishing Soviet-era bases, deploying ice-capable vessels, and leveraging energy projects along the Northern Sea Route (NSR). China has declared itself a “near-Arctic” power and partnered with Moscow on patrols and infrastructure. Meanwhile, the U.S. remains short on icebreakers and Arctic domain awareness—even as traffic through high-latitude passages grows more plausible in low-ice summers. Analysts project that a meaningful share of global shipping could shift north by mid-century, and recent reporting shows the region is already a strategic flashpoint.

That makes UA’s expertise more than a local asset; it’s a pillar of U.S. national security. The University of Alaska Fairbanks hosts the Center for Arctic Security and Resilience (CASR) and degree pathways that fuse climate, emergency management, and security studies—exactly the interdisciplinary skill set defense, Coast Guard, and civil authorities will need as sea lanes open and storms, fires, and thaw-related failures multiply. Undercut these programs, and you undercut America’s ability to see, interpret, and act in the Arctic.

The costs of disinvestment

The 2019 state-level cuts did immediate damage—hiring freezes, program reviews, and fears of accreditation changes—but their larger effect was to signal instability to students, faculty, and funders. Austerity invites a spiral: as programs and personnel disappear, grant competitiveness slips; as labs lose continuity, agencies look elsewhere; as uncertainty grows, students choose out-of-state options. UA leadership has tried to reverse course—prioritizing enrollment, retention, and workforce alignment in recent budgets—but it’s difficult to rebuild a research reputation once the pipeline of projects and people is disrupted.

The 2025 federal freezes amplify that spiral by hitting precisely the projects that matter most: those with “climate” in the title. Researchers report program cancellations and re-scoped solicitations across agencies. That kind of ideological filter doesn’t just reduce funding—it distorts the evidence base that communities, tribal governments, and emergency planners depend on for everything from permafrost-safe housing to coastal relocation plans. It also weakens U.S. credibility in Arctic diplomacy at a time when the Arctic Council is strained and cooperation with Russia is largely stalled.

Why this matters beyond Alaska

Think of UA as America’s northern early-warning system. Its glaciologists, sea-ice modelers, fire scientists, and social scientists collect the longitudinal datasets that turn anecdotes into policy-relevant knowledge. Lose continuity, and you lose the ability to detect regime shifts—abrupt ecosystem changes, cascading infrastructure failures from thaw, new navigation windows that alter shipping economics and risk. Those changes feed directly into maritime safety, domain awareness, and the rules-of-the-road that will govern the NSR and other passages.

Meanwhile, federal moves to expand Arctic drilling create additional operational burdens for emergency response and environmental monitoring—burdens that fall on the same universities being told to do more with less. Opening the door to long-lived oil projects while throttling climate and environmental research is a recipe for higher spill risk, poorer oversight, and costlier disasters.

A pragmatic way forward

Three steps could stabilize UA and, by extension, America’s Arctic posture:

1. Firewall climate science from political interference. Agencies should fund Arctic research on merit, not language policing. Reinstating paused grants and re-issuing climate-related solicitations would immediately restore capacity in labs and field stations.

2. Treat UA as critical national infrastructure. Just as the U.S. is racing to modernize radar and add icebreakers, it should invest in Arctic science and workforce pipelines at UA—scholarships tied to Coast Guard and NOAA service, ship time for sea-ice and fisheries research, and support for Indigenous knowledge partnerships that improve on-the-ground resilience.

3. Align energy decisions with security reality. Every new Arctic extraction project increases environmental and emergency-response exposure in a region where capacity is thin. If policymakers proceed, they owe UA and Alaska communities the monitoring, baseline studies, and response investments that only a healthy public research university can sustain.

The paradox of the College Meltdown is that it hits hardest where public knowledge is most needed. In the Lower 48, that might mean fewer nurses or teachers. In Alaska, it means flying blind in a rapidly changing theater where Russia and China are already maneuvering and where coastlines, sea ice, and permafrost are literally moving under our feet. The University of Alaska is not a nice-to-have. It is how the United States knows what is happening in the Arctic—and how it prepares for what’s next. Weakening it in the name of budget discipline or culture-war messaging is not just shortsighted. It’s a security risk.

---

Sources

• University of Alaska Office of the President, FY2020 budget overview (state veto and reductions).

• University of Alaska Public Affairs timeline (2019 exigency and consolidation actions).

• Alaska Department of Administration, Dunleavy–UA three-year compact (2019).

• Anchorage Daily News, “$50M in grants frozen under Trump administration” (May 28, 2025).

• The Guardian, “Outcry as Trump withdraws support for research that mentions ‘climate’” (Feb. 21, 2025).

• UA/ACCAP, Alaska’s Changing Environment 2.0 (2024 update).

• UAF Center for Arctic Security and Resilience (programs and mission).

• Empower Alaska: UA Arctic expertise overview.

• Wall Street Journal, Russia/China Arctic power projection and U.S. capability gaps (Feb. 2025).

• The Arctic Institute, shipping projections for the Northern Sea Route.

• Arctic Review on Law and Politics, vulnerabilities and governance challenges on the NSR.

• The Guardian, rollback of protections in the National Petroleum Reserve–Alaska (Aug. 2025).

• Alaska Public Media, uneven cuts to Arctic research under Trump (Apr. 2025).

UF’s Climate Commitment Cancelled—Student Journalists Pick Up the Slack

At the Higher Education Inquirer, we’ve long tracked the creeping politicization, corporatization, and hollowing-out of American higher education. But we also know that some of the most important journalism in this space isn’t coming from cable news or legacy media—it’s being done by student reporters working late nights in underfunded college newsrooms.

That’s why we’re launching a new initiative: to amplify and highlight outstanding student journalism that exposes institutional failures, lifts up marginalized voices, and brings transparency to power.

We begin by spotlighting vital reporting from The Independent Florida Alligator, the student-run newspaper at the University of Florida.

In an August 7th article, "UF shuts down Office of Sustainability," student journalists revealed that UF has abruptly dismantled its Office of Sustainability. The decision was made quietly, with no input from students or faculty. The office had led the university’s efforts on climate action, environmental education, waste reduction, and green infrastructure.

The story goes far beyond campus housekeeping—it reflects a larger pattern of political interference under Florida Governor Ron DeSantis. Programs tied to environmentalism, racial equity, and academic freedom have come under fire as part of a sweeping campaign to reshape public education into a vehicle for conservative ideology.

Staff from the sustainability office have reportedly been reassigned to facilities management, signaling a shift in priorities from systemic environmental change to mere operational efficiency. The message is clear: climate action is no longer a public commitment, but a liability.

This is happening in a state already suffering the consequences of climate change—rising sea levels, stronger hurricanes, dangerous heat waves. Universities, especially public ones, should be at the forefront of scientific and civic leadership. Instead, they’re retreating. And student journalists are left to do the work that administrators won’t.

HEI’s New Commitment to Student Journalism

The Higher Education Inquirer is proud to support and amplify the work of student journalists who are holding institutions accountable. With shrinking professional newsrooms and growing institutional secrecy, student-run papers remain a critical watchdog in American higher education.

We encourage our readers to follow, share, and support publications like The Alligator. Their work is a public service—and they’re doing it with fewer resources and greater risks than many professionals.

We’ll be featuring more stories like this in the months ahead. If you’re a student journalist breaking news, blowing whistles, or investigating injustice in higher education, we want to hear from you.

Source:

• The Independent Florida Alligator, August 7, 2025: “UF shuts down Office of Sustainability”

Climate Change 101: This college campus may be literally underwater sooner than you think

Stockton University’s Atlantic City campus may be treading water—literally and figuratively. Built in 2018 on a stretch of reclaimed land in the South Inlet neighborhood, the coastal satellite of Stockton University sits just a few hundred feet from the Atlantic Ocean. With scenic views and beachfront access, it was marketed as a fresh vision for higher education: experiential learning by the sea.

But according to Rutgers University’s Climate Impact Lab and corroborated by NOAA sea level rise projections, that vision may be short-lived. In less than 50 years, large portions of the campus could be underwater—possibly permanently. In fact, with high tide flooding already happening more frequently in Atlantic City and sea levels expected to rise 2 to 5 feet by 2100 depending on emissions, climate change poses an existential threat not just to Stockton’s Atlantic City facilities, but to the broader idea of oceanfront higher education.

The Science: Rutgers’ Stark Warning

Rutgers’ 2021 “New Jersey Science and Technical Advisory Panel Report” projected sea level rise in the state could exceed 2.1 feet by 2050 and 5.1 feet by 2100 under high emissions scenarios. Even under moderate mitigation efforts, the sea is projected to rise 1.4 to 3.1 feet by 2070, placing critical infrastructure—including roads, utility networks, and public buildings—at risk. Stockton’s coastal campus is among them.

A Teachable Crisis

For students and faculty in environmental science, public policy, and urban planning, Stockton's Atlantic City campus is both classroom and case study. Professors can point to flooding events just blocks away as real-time lessons in sea level rise, coastal erosion, and infrastructure vulnerability. Students witness firsthand the tension between development and environmental limits.

Yet these lived experiences also raise ethical questions. Is the university preparing students for the reality of climate displacement—or is it merely weathering the storm until the next round of state funding? Are public institutions being honest about the long-term risks students will face, not just as residents but as debt-burdened alumni?

In many ways, Stockton’s presence in Atlantic City epitomizes the “climate denial by development” that characterizes so much U.S. urban planning: Build now, mitigate later, and leave tomorrow’s collapse for someone else to manage.

No Easy Retreat

Climate adaptation strategies in Atlantic City have been slow-moving, expensive, and often controversial. Proposed solutions—such as sea walls, elevating roads, and managed retreat—require enormous financial and political capital. There’s also no consensus on how to preserve equity in a shrinking, sinking city.

For Stockton University, retreating from the Atlantic City campus would be politically and financially damaging. The expansion was celebrated with ribbon-cuttings and bipartisan support. Pulling back now would mean acknowledging a costly miscalculation. Yet failing to plan for relocation or phased withdrawal could leave students and taxpayers on the hook for an underwater investment.

According to the New Jersey Coastal Resilience Plan, Atlantic County—home to Stockton’s main and satellite campuses—is one of the most climate-exposed counties in the state. And Stockton isn’t just sitting in the floodplain; it’s training the very people who will be tasked with managing these emergencies. It has both a responsibility and an opportunity to lead, not just in mitigation but in public reckoning.

Lessons for Higher Ed

Stockton is hardly the only university caught between mission and market. Across the U.S., colleges and universities are pouring resources into branding campaigns and capital projects that ignore—or actively obscure—the long-term environmental risks. Climate change is often treated as a course offering, not an existential threat.

In Universities on Fire, Bryan Alexander outlines how climate change will fundamentally reshape the higher education landscape—from facilities planning to enrollment, from energy consumption to curriculum design. He warns that campuses, particularly those located near coasts or in extreme heat zones, face not just infrastructural threats but institutional crises. Rising waters, wildfires, hurricanes, and population shifts will force universities to rethink their physical footprints, economic models, and public obligations.

Yet few accreditors or bond-rating agencies have accounted for climate risk in their evaluations. Endowments continue to fund construction in flood-prone areas. Boards of trustees prioritize expansion over retreat. And students, many of whom are first-generation or low-income, are seldom told what climate vulnerability could mean for the real value of their degrees—or the safety of their dormitories.

As sea levels rise and climate models grow more precise, Stockton’s Atlantic City campus may become a symbol—not just of poor urban planning, but of an education system unprepared for the world it claims to be shaping.

What Comes Next?

For now, Stockton continues to expand its Atlantic City footprint, even as new reports suggest that this part of the Jersey Shore may be uninhabitable or cost-prohibitive to protect in a few decades. The university has proposed additional student housing and even a new coastal research center. But each new building reinforces the same flawed logic: that short-term gains outweigh long-term collapse.

At some point, Stockton University—and many other coastal institutions—will have to decide whether to keep investing in property that’s literally slipping into the sea, or to model the kind of resilience and foresight they claim to teach.

Because this is not just a sustainability issue. It’s a justice issue. It’s a debt issue. It’s a survival issue.

And it’s happening now.

Sources

Bryan Alexander. Universities on Fire: Higher Education in the Climate Crisis. Johns Hopkins University Press, 2023.

NJ Department of Environmental Protection. Resilient NJ: Statewide Coastal Resilience Plan. 2020.

Rutgers University. New Jersey Climate Change Resource Center.

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Back Bay Study – New Jersey.

New Jersey Future. “Climate Risks and Infrastructure in Atlantic County.”

Stockton University. Strategic Plan 2025: Choosing Our Path.

NOAA. State of High Tide Flooding and Sea Level Rise 2023 Technical Report.

Camp Mystic: A Century of Privilege, Exclusion, and Resilience Along the Guadalupe

Nestled along the banks of the Guadalupe River in Kerr County, Texas, Camp Mystic has been a summer rite of passage for generations of elite white girls since its founding in 1926. Created by University of Texas coach E.J. “Doc” Stewart, the camp was envisioned as a Christian retreat that mirrored its brother camp, Camp Stewart for boys. With a blend of outdoor adventure, spiritual practice, and deep-rooted tradition, Mystic became one of Texas’s most exclusive—and enduring—summer institutions.

At its core, Camp Mystic was always more than a camp. It functioned as a social filter, reinforcing class, race, and regional identity. Founded during the Jim Crow era, the camp operated within a system of de facto racial segregation. While no known documents explicitly stated that Black, Mexican American, or Indigenous girls were barred, the overwhelmingly white makeup of campers, counselors, and alumni for decades makes its exclusionary nature clear. Like many private institutions in the South, racial exclusion at Mystic was enforced through unspoken rules, legacy admissions, and the economic barriers of wealth and connection.

The legacy of that segregation lingers today. Camp Mystic remains a predominantly white, upper-class space. The cost of attendance alone is prohibitive to most. A single 30-day session now costs more than $4,300—often closer to $5,000 once flood-related infrastructure and safety fees are added. A $300 to $400 deposit is required up front, and most campers are enrolled years in advance, often the children and grandchildren of Mystic alumnae.

Over the decades, the camp has grown to encompass 725 acres of Texas Hill Country, including historic cypress cabins, a blufftop chapel, and a sprawling recreation hall. Campers are divided into two tribes—Kiowa and Tonkawa—borrowing names from Native peoples with no meaningful cultural ties. They compete in games, attend daily devotionals, and participate in long-standing rituals like Sunday fried chicken dinners and end-of-session vespers. Phones and electronic devices are banned, preserving an air of rustic purity and nostalgic Americana.

Mystic’s leadership has passed through generations of wealthy Texas families. After Stewart sold the camp in 1937, the Stacy family took over, maintaining control even during its World War II closure, when it was leased to the U.S. Army Air Corps as a convalescent facility. From 1948 to 1987, Inez and Frank Harrison—“Iney and Frank”—ran the camp with an old-school Christian ethos. The third-generation owners, Dick and Tweety Eastland, continued the tradition of preserving the camp’s conservative values and cultural uniformity.

The camp’s alumni list reads like a who’s who of Texas society. Laura Bush once served as a counselor. Children of governors, oil executives, and business magnates have long walked the same trails and sat at the same river’s edge. For many, Mystic is as much a symbol of legacy and identity as it is a summer destination.

And yet, the question lingers: what does it mean to sustain a place like Camp Mystic in the 21st century?

While many of its practices seem quaint or charming to supporters, others see a more troubling story—of a camp that has functioned as a training ground for white privilege, Christian nationalism, and cultural insulation. Its use of Native American tribal names, its refusal to modernize its traditions beyond symbolic gestures, and its high economic barrier to entry make it a time capsule of exclusion. Even now, diversity at Camp Mystic appears limited, its brochures and social media reflecting the same demographics it always has.

Today, as Texas faces widening inequality, increasing climate risks, and sharp political divides, Camp Mystic remains perched on a precarious edge—both literally and figuratively. It is a camp shaped by floods and fire, faith and legacy, and a deep belief in preserving “the way things used to be.”

For some, Camp Mystic represents a magical place of lifelong friendship, tradition, and spiritual growth. For others, it is a stark reminder of how privilege and exclusion are often disguised as nostalgia.

Sources:

• Texas State Historical Association, Camp Mystic
  https://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/entries/camp-mystic

• Wikipedia, Camp Mystic
  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camp_Mystic

• Reuters, Floodwaters swept through elite Texas camp (July 5, 2025)
  https://www.reuters.com/business/environment/some-facts-about-camp-mystic-where-texas-floodwaters-swept-away-dozens-girls-2025-07-05/

• ThePricer, How Much Does Camp Mystic Cost?
  https://www.thepricer.org/how-much-does-camp-mystic-cost/

• Houston Chronicle, Texas floods threaten Hill Country camps (July 2025)
  https://www.houstonchronicle.com/news/houston-weather/article/texas-deadly-flood-guadalupe-river-20422503.php

• Reddit, r/sanantonio threads on Camp Mystic pricing and culture (2024–2025)

Science-Based Climate Change Denial: Manufacturing Doubt in the Age of Collapse

Despite overwhelming scientific consensus that human activity—especially the burning of fossil fuels—is the primary driver of climate change, a sophisticated form of climate change denial persists, often cloaked in the language and authority of science itself. This “science-based” climate change denial does not simply reject climate science outright but instead cherry-picks data, emphasizes uncertainties, and amplifies marginal scientific viewpoints to cast doubt on established facts. At the center of this strategy are credentialed scientists, industry-funded think tanks, and academic institutions that provide intellectual cover for the continued exploitation of fossil fuels.

This form of denialism has proved highly effective in delaying climate action, muddying public understanding, and influencing policy—especially in the United States, where partisan politics, neoliberal economic ideology, and extractive capitalism intersect.

The Evolution of Denialism

In the 1990s, outright climate change denial was more common, with prominent voices denying that the Earth was warming or that human activity played any role. But as evidence mounted—through rising global temperatures, melting ice caps, and increasingly destructive weather events—climate denial evolved. Rather than deny global warming altogether, many so-called skeptics now argue that climate models are unreliable, that warming is not necessarily dangerous, or that adaptation is more cost-effective than mitigation.

This shift gave rise to a subtler, more insidious strategy: science-based denial. Unlike conspiracy theories or fringe pseudoscience, this form of denial often involves credentialed experts, peer-reviewed articles (sometimes in low-quality or ideologically driven journals), and selective interpretation of data to mislead the public and stall regulatory action.

Scientists for Hire

Think tanks like the Heartland Institute, Cato Institute, and George C. Marshall Institute have employed scientists with impressive resumes to lend credibility to denialist arguments. Figures like Willie Soon, an astrophysicist at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics, have received funding from fossil fuel interests like ExxonMobil and Southern Company while publishing papers that downplay human contributions to climate change. These financial ties are often undisclosed or downplayed, even though they present a clear conflict of interest.

In some cases, these scientists present themselves as heroic dissenters—mavericks standing up against a corrupt, alarmist scientific establishment. Their arguments are rarely about disproving the reality of climate change, but instead about inflating uncertainties, misrepresenting data, or offering misleading counter-examples that are unrepresentative of broader trends.

The Role of Higher Education

Elite universities and academic journals have sometimes unwittingly enabled science-based denial by embracing a culture of both-sides-ism and neutrality in the face of coordinated disinformation campaigns. In the name of academic freedom, universities have tolerated or even elevated voices that promote denialist rhetoric under the guise of “healthy skepticism.”

Institutions like George Mason University’s Mercatus Center and Stanford University’s Hoover Institution have provided intellectual homes for scholars funded by fossil fuel interests. These institutions maintain the veneer of academic legitimacy while promoting deregulatory, pro-fossil fuel policy agendas.

Furthermore, federal and state funding for climate research has become increasingly politicized, especially under Republican administrations. Under the Trump administration (2017–2021), federal agencies were directed to scrub climate change from reports and suppress scientific findings. Even now, with the potential return of Trump-style governance, science-based denialists are preparing for a resurgence.

Strategic Misinformation

Climate denial campaigns use sophisticated media strategies to manipulate public opinion. Through platforms like Fox News, right-wing podcasts, and social media channels, science-based denial is disseminated to millions. The denialists often invoke “Climategate”—a 2009 scandal involving hacked emails from climate scientists—as proof of corruption in climate science, despite multiple investigations clearing the scientists of wrongdoing.

The playbook is familiar: exaggerate uncertainty, cherry-pick cold weather events, blame solar activity, and discredit prominent climate scientists like Michael Mann or James Hansen. The public, already overwhelmed with crises, becomes confused, disoriented, or apathetic.

Consequences and Countermeasures

The consequences of science-based climate denial are devastating. Delayed action has led to rising sea levels, record heatwaves, agricultural disruption, and biodiversity collapse. Vulnerable communities, particularly in the Global South and marginalized communities in the U.S., bear the brunt of the damage.

To counter this, scholars and educators must move beyond “debating” denialists and instead expose the ideological and financial underpinnings of their arguments. As Naomi Oreskes and Erik Conway showed in Merchants of Doubt, denialism is not a scientific disagreement—it is a political and economic strategy designed to protect powerful interests.

The Higher Education Inquirer supports open scientific inquiry, but not at the expense of truth or the planet. Universities, journalists, and the public must hold denialists accountable and challenge the structures that enable them—especially those in academic robes who lend their credentials to oil-funded propaganda.

---

Reliable Sources and Further Reading:

• Oreskes, Naomi, and Erik M. Conway. Merchants of Doubt. Bloomsbury Press, 2010.

• Brulle, Robert J. “Institutionalizing delay: foundation funding and the creation of U.S. climate change counter-movement organizations.” Climatic Change, vol. 122, no. 4, 2014, pp. 681–694.

• Dunlap, Riley E., and Aaron M. McCright. “Organized climate change denial.” The Oxford Handbook of Climate Change and Society, Oxford University Press, 2011.

• Mann, Michael E. The New Climate War: The Fight to Take Back Our Planet. PublicAffairs, 2021.

• Union of Concerned Scientists. "The Climate Deception Dossiers." 2015. https://www.ucsusa.org/resources/climate-deception-dossiers

• Inside Climate News. “Exxon: The Road Not Taken.” https://insideclimatenews.org/news/15092015/exxon-the-road-not-taken/

• Climate Investigations Center. “Tracking the Climate Denial Machine.” https://climateinvestigations.org

---

For inquiries, reprint permissions, or to contribute your own investigations, contact The Higher Education Inquirer at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu.

The Real Sin Behind the Texas Floods

Last week a catastrophic flood swept through Central Texas, killing at least 50 people, including at least two dozen girls at a Christian summer camp located near the Guadalupe River.  The water reportedly rose 25 feet in 40 minutes, something of almost Biblical proportions.    

In similar horrifying events, 9-11 and Hurricane Katrina for example, conservative religious voices framed disasters as divine punishment for the sins of modern society. These interpretations, often shared in churches, social media posts, and talk radio segments, portray tragedies like these as acts of God triggered by moral decay: homosexuality, abortion, secularism, or a failure to adhere to traditional values.

This time politicians blamed these deaths on the National Weather Service and NOAA and its antiquated warning system. Part of that is true. And it's mind-boggling that conservative politicians like Homeland Security Chief Christy Noem, who make these assertions, are those who have worked so hard to shortchange federal agencies like this.    

The biggest sin in this case, though, is the refusal by those in power, to confront the mounting crisis of human-caused climate change. What we are witnessing in Texas, and in countless other climate disasters around the globe. It is the direct and measurable result of a planet warming due to greenhouse gas emissions and the systems that sustain them.

Scientific evidence has been clear for decades. As the Earth’s atmosphere warms, it holds more moisture, leading to heavier and more intense rainfall events. A warmer climate also disrupts traditional weather patterns, increasing the likelihood of sudden and extreme downpours. The National Climate Assessment and peer-reviewed studies in journals like Nature Climate Change and Geophysical Research Letters confirm the link between climate change and flash flooding, especially in the U.S. South and Midwest. In Texas specifically, the frequency and intensity of extreme precipitation events have risen markedly over the past few decades, driven in large part by human activity.

In the case of this month’s flood, nearly a foot of rain fell in just a few hours over the Guadalupe River basin. The river surged more than 26 feet in 45 minutes, submerging campsites, RV parks, and a Christian girls’ summer camp. This level of devastation is not random. It is part of a trend—a predictable, deadly trend that scientists have warned us about repeatedly.

And yet, the political response to climate change, especially among many conservative lawmakers and right-wing institutions, has been one of denial, deflection, and delay. Texas remains heavily dependent on fossil fuels, both economically and politically. Industry-backed campaigns have spread climate misinformation for years, weakening public understanding and blocking meaningful policy reforms. Some Texas leaders continue to cast doubt on climate science even as their constituents drown in record-breaking floods and fry in record-breaking heat.

But if we are to talk about sin, we should do so honestly. The sin is in the silence and inaction. The sin is in ignoring the suffering of the vulnerable—children at summer camps, workers without flood insurance, renters with no way to evacuate—while protecting the profits of polluters. The sin is in cutting funding for emergency management and scientific research while quoting scripture to justify the status quo.

True moral clarity lies in demanding justice from systems that degrade the planet and sacrifice human life for political gain. Repentance, in this sense, means changing course: ending fossil fuel subsidies, embracing climate adaptation, strengthening infrastructure, and respecting the knowledge of scientists and Indigenous communities.

Texas is drowning not because of God's wrath but because of human arrogance. To call it anything else is not only dishonest—it is a grave disservice to the dead, the missing, and the millions still at risk.

Sources

• US Global Change Research Program. Fourth National Climate Assessment, Volume II (2018). https://nca2018.globalchange.gov

• Prein, A. F., Rasmussen, R. M., Ikeda, K., et al. "Increased rainfall volume from future convective storms in the US." Nature Climate Change, 7, 880–884 (2017). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41558-017-0007-7

• Trenberth, K. E. "Changes in precipitation with climate change." Climate Research, 47(1–2), 123–138 (2011). https://doi.org/10.3354/cr00953

• Hoerling, M., Eischeid, J., Perlwitz, J., et al. "Explaining Extreme Events of 2013 from a Climate Perspective." Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society (2014). https://doi.org/10.1175/BAMS-D-14-00021.1

• Zhang, W., Villarini, G., Scoccimarro, E., & Vecchi, G. A. "Impacts of the Pacific Meridional Mode on U.S. Springtime Tornado Activity." Geophysical Research Letters, 43(3), 1096–1104 (2016). https://doi.org/10.1002/2015GL067193

Hardship Ahead

As we stand on the precipice of a turbulent future, one thing has become clear: the hardships ahead will disproportionately affect the working class, and the elites — across political, corporate, media, and intellectual spheres — have shown a consistent, and often intentional, indifference to their struggles. While many of us brace for economic downturns, climate chaos, and the seismic shifts brought on by technological advancements, the reality is that the ruling class has actively shaped a system where the burdens of these challenges will fall on the backs of ordinary people, all while they remain largely insulated from the consequences. The rise of authoritarian figures like President Donald Trump may dominate the headlines, but it’s not just about him; it’s about a broader systemic issue where elites, regardless of their political affiliation, have consistently prioritized their own interests over the well-being of those beneath them.

The Political Elites: A System Built to Serve the Powerful

It’s easy to point to figures like Donald Trump as the embodiment of elite disregard for the working class, but that misses the bigger picture. Trump was not a rogue element in the American political landscape, but rather the latest manifestation of a system that has long been rigged to benefit the wealthy. His administration, while promising to fight for the forgotten American worker, ultimately enacted policies that only deepened the wealth divide. Corporate tax cuts, deregulation, and a lack of meaningful action to address the hollowing out of American industries — these were the actions of a leader who claimed to represent the working class, but ultimately sided with the elite.

But Trump’s actions were not unique. The bipartisan neglect of the working class by both Republican and Democratic elites has been a long-standing feature of U.S. politics. Under both parties, trade deals like NAFTA, the deregulation of industries, the decline of unions, and the outsourcing of jobs were all policies that catered to corporate elites while leaving millions of working-class Americans in the dust. The promises of upward mobility, economic security, and better wages have been largely replaced with a system that offers crumbs to the working class while the wealthy continue to reap record profits. Political elites — whether through tax cuts for the rich or cuts to social programs — have shown an outright disregard for the struggles of everyday people.

This indifference is only magnified as we now face a growing economic crisis. The pandemic and economic shutdowns pushed the working class further into financial instability, and the challenges ahead — from potential recessions to an increasing reliance on automation — will continue to hit hardest those already on the brink. But the elites, whether corporate giants, politicians, or financial institutions, are poised to weather these storms with little more than an inconvenience to their wealth and power. Meanwhile, workers will be forced to bear the weight of an unstable economy, with wages stagnating and job insecurity rising.

Corporate Elites: Profits Over People, Even in the Face of Crisis

The corporate elite — the billionaires and multinational corporations who control the economy — have continued their indifference to the working class, exacerbating the hardships that lie ahead. As climate change accelerates and the global economy teeters on the brink, these corporations are more concerned with profits than with providing real solutions to the problems at hand. Instead of adapting to the growing demands for fair wages, secure jobs, and environmentally sustainable practices, many corporations are doubling down on exploiting their workers.

Take the tech industry, for example. Amazon, Google, and other tech giants are facing mounting scrutiny for their poor labor practices, such as low wages, harsh working conditions, and algorithmic surveillance of employees. Yet these companies — some of the richest in the world — are not shifting their priorities to address the inequities in their business models. Instead, they continue to exploit the labor of workers without offering them the protections and benefits they deserve. Meanwhile, the CEOs of these companies enjoy unimaginable wealth, completely detached from the daily struggles of those who actually power their success.

The financial sector, too, continues to perpetuate a system of inequality. The speculative bubbles in cryptocurrency, real estate, and stocks benefit the wealthy, while the working class is left with the fallout. When the next financial crisis inevitably hits — and it will — it will be the workers who lose their jobs, homes, and savings, while the banks and hedge funds are bailed out by the government. This pattern of privatizing gains and socializing losses has become a hallmark of elite indifference to the struggles of everyday Americans.

Media Elites: Crafting Narratives that Serve the Powerful

The media, which should serve as a check on power and a platform for the voices of the marginalized, has become yet another arm of the elite establishment. Corporate-controlled media outlets are more concerned with maintaining their profit margins and advertising revenue than with accurately reflecting the struggles of the working class. The growing divide in society — along lines of race, class, gender, and age — is often presented as an isolated issue, rather than a systemic failure that stems from decades of elite indifference and exploitation.

The media elites who control these narratives continue to push the idea of a meritocracy — the belief that success is the result of hard work and determination — despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. While working-class people struggle with rising rents, stagnant wages, and a lack of job security, media outlets cater to the wealthy and powerful, maintaining a status quo that ensures the perpetuation of inequality. The media’s failure to adequately address the systemic issues that have led to this growing divide — from the dismantling of the welfare state to the erosion of workers' rights — only deepens the alienation felt by ordinary citizens.

The Intellectual Elites: Detached from Reality

Even in academia and intellectual circles, the response to the challenges facing the working class is often one of detachment or indifference. While scholars and economists may craft theories about the future of work, automation, and global economic systems, few offer tangible, actionable solutions to help the millions of Americans who are already struggling. The intellectual elites — with their focus on abstract concepts and lofty ideals — have consistently failed to address the immediate needs of the working class.

For example, the rise of automation and artificial intelligence presents an existential threat to many workers in industries like manufacturing, retail, and transportation. While experts discuss the benefits of these technologies, few have addressed the real-world consequences for workers whose jobs are being automated away. The intellectual elites have, in many cases, failed to call for policies that would ensure a just transition for these workers, leaving them at the mercy of a system that values profit over people.

The Coming Hardships: Economic, Social, and Environmental Struggles

The coming years will bring significant hardships — both in terms of economic instability and environmental catastrophe. The working class will bear the brunt of these challenges, and yet, the elites seem more interested in protecting their wealth and power than in addressing the root causes of these crises. As automation continues to displace workers, and as the climate crisis leads to extreme weather events and resource scarcity, the working class will face mass unemployment, displacement, and economic insecurity. Yet, while working people are scrambling to adapt to these changes, the elites will continue to live in their gated communities, insulated from the storms of hardship that are ravaging the rest of society.

At the same time, geopolitical tensions — fueled in part by elite disregard for diplomacy and international cooperation — are pushing the world closer to conflict. The U.S. has increasingly aligned itself with authoritarian regimes and turned a blind eye to human rights abuses around the globe. The failure to address these global injustices, combined with a domestic political landscape increasingly divided by race, class, gender, and age, creates a volatile environment in which the working class will continue to suffer, while the elites profit off of the instability they have helped create.

Resistance and Reclamation of Power

Despite the indifference of the elites, resistance is growing. In the face of climate change, economic instability, and rising inequality, workers are beginning to organize — through strikes, protests, and boycotts — to demand better conditions, fair wages, and a more just society. This nonviolent resistance is not just a response to Trump’s policies but to a broader system that has long been stacked against the working class.

The time has come to recognize that the elites — whether in politics, business, or media — have consistently prioritized their own interests over the well-being of ordinary people. As the hardships ahead loom large, the working class must begin to reclaim power, not just through resistance but through the creation of a new system that values their labor, their dignity, and their humanity.

We cannot afford to wait for elites to solve these problems; the future depends on the collective action of those who have been sidelined for far too long. Only by organizing, building solidarity, and demanding a better future can we begin to address the systemic injustices that have plagued society for decades. The time for change is now, and the working class must rise to meet the challenges ahead — not just to survive, but to reclaim their rightful place in a just and equitable society.

Climate Change: When Will We Stop Moving to the Riskiest Regions? (PBS Terra)

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.

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)

 

 

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.