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Showing posts sorted by relevance for query neoliberalism. Sort by date Show all posts

Monday, July 21, 2025

How Neoliberalism Haunts Our Lives: 24/7/365

Neoliberalism isn’t just an economic theory or a dry policy framework. It’s a lived reality that operates around the clock, shaping our lives in ways many people don’t fully see. Neoliberalism tells us that markets solve everything, that individual responsibility trumps social solidarity, and that human worth is best measured by productivity, consumption, and credentialing. Its presence is constant—at work, in education, in healthcare, in housing, even in our relationships.

This is not a new critique. But as the 21st century drags on and late capitalism becomes more extractive, predatory, and digitally surveilled, the impacts of neoliberal ideology have intensified. For the working class, for students, for adjuncts, for debtors, for renters, and for the chronically ill, neoliberalism is not an abstraction—it is a system of permanent exhaustion.


The Day Begins: Sleep-Deprived and Algorithmically Watched

The neoliberal day begins before the alarm rings. If you’re poor, you may be sleeping in your car or waking up in a crowded home. If you’re middle-class, the first thing you see is likely your phone, already feeding you metrics about your body (sleep scores, heart rate, missed messages). Neoliberal logic tells us our time must be optimized, even our rest must be productive.

Gig workers check their apps to see if they’ll get enough rides or orders to survive. Others log into remote jobs monitored by keystroke trackers, digital timesheets, or AI productivity tools. Control is constant, and surveillance is internalized: we discipline ourselves with planners, metrics, reminders, shame.


Education: Credentials Over Knowledge

For students, neoliberal education is a high-cost simulation of opportunity. Degrees are sold as investments in "human capital," with ever-rising tuition and debt. Public funding is replaced by predatory loans, branding consultants, and privatized ed-tech platforms. The curriculum is shaped by market demand, not civic responsibility. Liberal arts are gutted, and adjuncts are paid poverty wages while administrators balloon in number.

The university, once imagined as a space for critical thinking and collective inquiry, is now a debt-fueled credential mill—an HR pipeline for corporations, a subscription model of social mobility that rarely delivers.


Healthcare: A Business of Despair

Neoliberalism doesn’t take a break when you get sick. In fact, your illness becomes a profit center. In the U.S., the healthcare system is a financial trap. Insurance is often tied to employment; losing your job means losing your access to care. Big Pharma, hospital chains, and insurance conglomerates operate under the logic of maximizing shareholder value—not public health.

Even mental health is commodified. Wellness apps, “self-care” products, and Instagram therapy push the idea that individual solutions will fix systemic problems. Suffering is reframed as personal failure.


Housing: A Market, Not a Human Right

Housing insecurity is one of neoliberalism’s clearest failures. Real estate speculation, gentrification, and the financialization of housing have made shelter a luxury good. Renters face skyrocketing costs and eviction threats, while homes sit vacant as investment vehicles.

Public housing is stigmatized and underfunded. Homelessness becomes a criminal issue instead of a humanitarian one. You’re told to “pull yourself up” while the ladder is systematically removed.


Work and Labor: You're Always On

The 9-to-5 is no longer the norm. Neoliberal work is either hyper-precarious or all-consuming. The gig economy pretends to offer flexibility, but in practice it strips away rights, benefits, and security. Professional workers face unpaid overtime, side hustles, and an expectation of constant availability. Labor laws lag decades behind. Union-busting is normalized.

At the same time, those without work are treated with suspicion. Unemployment, disability, and even retirement are framed as moral failings or burdens on the system.


Nightfall: No Rest for the Weary

At night, the apps don’t sleep. Your data is still harvested. Your bank is still charging fees. Your landlord’s algorithm is still adjusting rent. Your student loan is still accruing interest. Your body, overstressed and under-cared-for, begins to break down.

Even dreams aren’t free: entertainment has been colonized by neoliberal culture, feeding you aspirational lifestyles and endless content to dull your exhaustion. Everything is monetized. Everything is a subscription.


Resistance in the Cracks

Despite its pervasiveness, neoliberalism is not invincible. People are resisting in small and large ways—through union organizing, mutual aid, alternative media, degrowth activism, and radical pedagogy. These aren’t just political choices; they are survival strategies.

But for resistance to grow, we must name the problem clearly. Neoliberalism is not just a phase of capitalism—it’s an ideology embedded in every institution and mediated by every platform. It isolates us, overworks us, and extracts from us while pretending to offer freedom and choice.


The 24/7/365 Trap

We live in neoliberalism’s world, but we don’t have to live by its rules. That starts with refusing its myths: that poverty is personal failure, that education is a private good, that health must be earned, that the market is sacred.

As long as neoliberalism governs our lives without challenge, inequality will deepen and democracy will continue to erode. The question isn’t whether we can afford to abandon neoliberalism—the question is whether we can survive if we don’t.


Sources:

  • Wendy Brown, Undoing the Demos

  • David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism

  • Sarah Jaffe, Work Won’t Love You Back

  • Marion Fourcade and Kieran Healy, “Seeing Like a Market”

  • Astra Taylor, The Age of Insecurity

  • Michael Hudson, The Destiny of Civilization

  • Maurizio Lazzarato, The Making of the Indebted Man

Monday, November 17, 2025

Neoliberalism and the Global College Meltdown

Over the past four decades, neoliberalism has reshaped higher education into a market-driven enterprise, producing what can only be described as a global College Meltdown. Once envisioned as a public good—a tool for civic empowerment, social mobility, and national progress—higher education in the United States, the United Kingdom, and China has been transformed into a competitive market system defined by privatization, debt, and disillusionment.

The United States: From Public Good to Profit Engine

Nowhere has neoliberal ideology had a more devastating effect on higher education than in the United States. Beginning in the 1980s, with the Reagan administration’s cuts to federal grants and the expansion of student loans, higher education funding shifted from public investment to individual burden. Universities adopted corporate governance models, hired armies of administrators, and marketed education as a private commodity promising personal enrichment rather than collective advancement.

The results are visible everywhere: tuition inflation, student debt exceeding $1.7 trillion, and the proliferation of predatory for-profit colleges. Elite universities transformed into financial behemoths, hoarding endowments while relying on contingent faculty. Meanwhile, working-class and minority students were lured into debt traps by institutions that promised upward mobility but delivered unemployment and despair.

The U.S. College Meltdown—a term that describes the system’s moral and financial collapse—is a direct consequence of neoliberal policies: deregulation, privatization, and austerity disguised as efficiency. The profit motive replaced the public mission, and the casualties include students, adjuncts, and the ideal of education as a democratic right.

The United Kingdom: Marketization and Managerialism

The United Kingdom followed a similar trajectory under Margaret Thatcher and her successors. The introduction of tuition fees in 1998 and their tripling in 2012 marked the formal triumph of neoliberal logic over public investment. British universities became quasi-corporate entities, obsessed with league tables, branding, and global rankings.

The result has been mounting student debt, declining staff morale, and a hollowing out of intellectual life. Faculty strikes over pensions and pay disparities underscore a deeper crisis of purpose. Universities now function as rent-seeking landlords—building luxury dorms for international students while cutting humanities departments. The logic of “student-as-customer” has reduced education to a transaction, and accountability has been redefined to mean profit margin rather than social contribution.

The UK’s College Meltdown mirrors that of the U.S.—a story of financialization, precarious labor, and the erosion of public trust.

China: Neoliberalism with Authoritarian Characteristics

At first glance, China seems to defy the Western College Meltdown. Its universities have expanded rapidly, producing millions of graduates and investing heavily in research. But beneath this apparent success lies a deeply neoliberal structure embedded in an authoritarian framework.

Since the 1990s, China’s higher education system has embraced competition, rankings, and market incentives. Universities compete for prestige and funding; families invest heavily in private tutoring and overseas degrees; and graduates face a saturated labor market. The result is mounting anxiety and unemployment among young people—known online as the “lying flat” generation, disillusioned with promises of meritocratic success.

The Chinese model fuses state control with neoliberal marketization. Education serves as both an instrument of national power and a mechanism of social stratification. In this sense, China’s version of the College Meltdown reflects a global truth: the commodification of education leads to alienation, regardless of political system.

A Global System in Crisis

Whether in Washington, London, or Beijing, the pattern is strikingly similar. Neoliberalism treats education as an investment in human capital, reducing learning to a financial calculation. Universities compete like corporations; students borrow like consumers; and knowledge becomes a tool of capital accumulation rather than liberation.

This convergence of economic and ideological forces has created an unsustainable higher education bubble—overpriced, overcredentialized, and underdelivering. Across continents, graduates face debt, underemployment, and despair, while universities chase rankings and revenue streams instead of justice and truth.

Toward a Post-Neoliberal Education

Reversing the College Meltdown requires more than reform; it demands a new philosophy. Public universities must reclaim their civic mission. Education must once again be understood as a human right, not a private investment. Debt forgiveness, reinvestment in teaching, and democratic governance are essential first steps.

Neoliberalism’s greatest illusion was that markets could produce wisdom. The College Meltdown proves the opposite: when education serves profit instead of people, it consumes itself from within.


Sources:

  • Wendy Brown, Undoing the Demos (2015)

  • David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism (2005)

  • Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed (2017)

  • The Higher Education Inquirer archives on the U.S. College Meltdown

  • BBC, “University staff strikes and student debt crisis,” 2024

  • Caixin, “China’s youth unemployment and education anxiety,” 2023

Friday, January 3, 2025

Higher Education Must Champion Democracy, Not Surrender to Fascism (Henry Giroux)

[Editor's note: This article by Henry Giroux first appeared in Truthout.]

Critical education must become a key organizing principle to defeat the emerging authoritarianism in the US. 

For decades, neoliberalism has systematically attacked the welfare state, undermined public institutions and weakened the foundations of collective well-being. Shrouded in the alluring language of liberty, it transforms market principles into a dominant creed, insisting that every facet of life conform to the imperatives of profit and economic efficiency.

But in reality, neoliberalism consolidates wealth in the hands of a financial elite, celebrates ruthless individualism, promotes staggering levels of inequality, perpetuates systemic injustices like racism and militarism, and commodifies everything, leaving nothing sacred or untouchable. Neoliberalism operates as a relentless engine of capitalist accumulation, driven by an insatiable pursuit of unchecked growth and the ruthless concentration of wealth and power within the hands of a ruling elite. At its core, it’s a pedagogy of repression: crushing justice, solidarity and care while deriding critical education and destroying the very tools that empower citizens to resist domination and reclaim the promise of democracy.

As neoliberalism collapses into authoritarianism, its machinery of repression intensifies. Dissent is silenced, social life militarized and hate normalized. This fuels a fascistic politics which is systematically dismantling democratic accountability, with higher education among its primary targets. For years, the far right has sought to undermine education, recognizing it as a powerful site of resistance. This has only accelerated, as MAGA movement adherents seek to eliminate the public education threat to their authoritarian goals.

Vice President-elect J.D. Vance openly declared “the professors are the enemy.” President-elect Donald Trump has stated that “pink-haired communists [are] teaching our kids.” In response to the Black Lives Matter protests following George Floyd’s killing, MAGA politicians like Sen. Tom Cotton openly called for deploying military force against demonstrators.  

The authoritarian spirit driving this party is crystallized in the words of right-wing activist Jack Posobiec, who, at the 2023 Conservative Political Action Conference, said: “We are here to overthrow democracy completely. We didn’t get all the way there on January 6, but we will. After we burn that swamp to the ground, we will establish the new American republic on its ashes.” This is more than anti-democratic, authoritarian rhetoric. It also shapes poisonous policies in which education is transformed into an animating space of repression and violence, and becomes weaponized as a tool of censorship, conformity and discrimination. 

As authoritarianism surges globally, democracy is being dismantled. What does this rise in illiberal regimes mean for higher education? What is the role of universities in defending democratic ideals when the very notion of democracy is under siege? In Trump’s United States, silence is complicity, and inaction a moral failing. Higher education must reassert itself as a crucial democratic public sphere that fosters critical thought, resists tyranny and nurtures the kind of informed citizens necessary to a just society.

Trump’s return to the presidency marks the endpoint of a deeply corrupt system, one that thrives on anti-intellectualism, scorn for science and contempt for reason. In this political climate, corruption, racism and hatred have transformed into a spectacle of fear, division and relentless disinformation, supplanting any notion of shared responsibility or collective purpose. In such a degraded environment, democracy becomes a hollowed-out version of itself, stripped of its legitimacy, ideals and promises. When democracy loses its moral and aspirational appeal, it opens the door for autocrats like Trump to dismantle the very institutions vital to preserving democratic life.

The failure of civic culture, education and literacy is starkly evident in the Trump administration’s success at emptying language of meaning — a flight from historical memory, ethics, justice and social responsibility. Communication has devolved into exaggerated political rhetoric and shallow public relations, replacing reason and evidence with spectacle and demagoguery. Thinking is scorned as dangerous, and news often serves as an amplifier for power rather than a check on it.

Corporate media outlets, driven by profits and ratings, align themselves with Trump’s dis-imagination machine, perpetuating a culture of celebrity worship and reality-TV sensationalism. In this climate, the institutions essential to a vibrant civil society are eroding, leaving us to ask: What kind of democracy can survive when the foundations of the social fabric are collapsing? Among these institutions, the mainstream media — a cornerstone of the fourth estate — have been particularly compromised. As Heather McGhee notes, the right-wing media has, over three decades, orchestrated “a radical takeover of our information ecosystem.”

Universities’ Neoliberal Audit Culture

As public-sector support fades, many institutions of higher education have been forced to mirror the private sector, turning knowledge into a commodity and eliminating departments and courses that don’t align with the market’s bottom line. Faculty are increasingly treated like low-wage workers, with labor relations designed to minimize costs and maximize servility. In this climate, power is concentrated in the hands of a managerial class that views education through a market-driven lens, reducing both governance and teaching to mere instruments of economic need. Democratic and creative visions, along with ethical imagination, give way to calls for efficiency, financial gain and conformity.

This neoliberal model not only undermines faculty autonomy but also views students as mere consumers, while saddling them with exorbitant tuition fees and a precarious future shaped by economic instability and ecological crisis. In abandoning its democratic mission, higher education fixates on narrow notions of job-readiness and cost-efficiency, forsaking its broader social and moral responsibilities. Stripped of any values beyond self-interest, institutions retreat from fostering critical citizenship and collective well-being.

Pedagogy, in turn, is drained of its critical content and transformative potential. This shift embodies what Cris Shore and Susan Wright term an “audit culture” — a corporate-driven ethos that depoliticizes knowledge, faculty and students by prioritizing performance metrics, measurable outputs and rigid individual accountability over genuine intellectual and social engagement.

In this process, higher education relinquishes its role as a democratic public sphere, shifting its mission from cultivating engaged citizens to molding passive consumers. This transformation fosters a generation of self-serving individuals, disconnected from the values of solidarity and justice, and indifferent to the creeping rise of authoritarianism.

The suppression of student dissent on campuses this year, particularly among those advocating for Palestinian rights and freedom, highlights this alarming trend. Universities increasingly prioritize conformity and corporate interests, punishing critical thinking and democratic engagement in the process. These developments lay the groundwork for a future shaped not by collective action and social equity, but by privatization, apathy and the encroachment of fascist politics.

Education, once the bedrock of civic engagement, has become a casualty in the age of Trump, where civic illiteracy is celebrated as both virtue and spectacle. In a culture dominated by information overload, celebrity worship and a cutthroat survival ethic, anti-intellectualism thrives as a political weapon, eroding language, meaning and critical thought. Ignorance is no longer passive — it is weaponized, fostering a false solidarity among those who reject democracy and scorn reason. This is not innocent ignorance but a calculated refusal to think critically, a deliberate rejection of language’s role in the pursuit of justice. For the ruling elite and the modern Republican Party, critical thinking is vilified as a threat to power, while willful ignorance is elevated to a badge of honor.

If we are to defeat the emerging authoritarianism in the U.S., critical education must become a key organizing principle of politics. In part, this can be done by exposing and unraveling lies, systems of oppression, and corrupt relations of power while making clear that an alternative future is possible. The language of critical pedagogy can powerfully condemn untruths and injustices.

History’s Emancipating Potential

A central goal of critical pedagogy is to cultivate historical awareness, equipping students to use history as a vital lens for understanding the present. Through the critical act of remembrance, the history of fascism can be illuminated not as a relic of the past but as a persistent threat, its dormant traces capable of reawakening even in the most robust democracies. In this sense, history must retain its subversive function — drawing on archives, historical sources, and suppressed narratives to challenge conventional wisdom and dominant ideologies.

The subversive power of history lies in its ability to challenge dominant narratives and expose uncomfortable truths — precisely why it has become a prime target for right-wing forces determined to rewrite or erase it. From banning books and whitewashing historic injustices like slavery to punishing educators who address pressing social issues, the assault on history is a calculated effort to suppress critical thinking and maintain control. Such assaults on historical memory represent a broader attempt to silence history’s emancipatory potential, rendering critical pedagogy an even more urgent and essential practice in resisting authoritarian forces. These assaults represent both a cleansing of history and what historian Timothy Snyder calls “anticipatory obedience,” which he labels as behavior individuals adopt in the service of emerging authoritarian regimes.

he fight against a growing fascist politics around the world is more than a struggle over power, it is also a struggle to reclaim historical memory. Any fight for a radical democratic socialist future is doomed if we fail to draw transformative lessons from the darkest chapters of our history, using them to forge meaningful resolutions and pathways toward a post-capitalist society. This is especially true at a time when the idea of who should be a citizen has become less inclusive, fueled by toxic religious and white supremacist ideology.

Consciousness-Shifting Pedagogy

One of the challenges facing today’s educators, students and others is the need to address the question of what education should accomplish in a historical moment when it is slipping into authoritarianism. In a world in which there is an increasing abandonment of egalitarian and democratic impulses, what will it take to educate young people and the broader polity to hold power accountable?

In part, this suggests developing educational policies and practices that not only inspire and motivate people but are also capable of challenging the growing number of anti-democratic tendencies under the global tyranny of capitalism. Such a vision of education can move the field beyond its obsession with accountability schemes, market values, and unreflective immersion in the crude empiricism of a data-obsessed, market-driven society. It can also confront the growing assault on education, where right-wing forces seek to turn universities into tools of ideological tyranny — arenas of pedagogical violence and white Christian indoctrination.

Any meaningful vision of critical pedagogy must have the power to provoke a radical shift in consciousness — a shift that helps us see the world through a lens that confronts the savage realities of genocidal violence, mass poverty, the destruction of the planet and the threat of nuclear war, among other issues. A true shift in consciousness is not possible without pedagogical interventions that speak directly to people in ways that resonate with their lives, struggles and experiences. Education must help individuals recognize themselves in the issues at hand, understanding how their personal suffering is not an isolated event, but part of a systemic crisis. In addition, activism, debate and engagement should be central to a student’s education.

n other words, there can be no authentic politics without a pedagogy of identification — an education that connects people to the broader forces shaping their lives, an education that helps them imagine and fight for a world where they are active agents of change.

The poet Jorie Graham emphasizes the importance of engaging people through experiences that resonate deeply with their everyday lives. She states that “it takes a visceral connection to experience itself to permit us to even undergo an experience.” Without this approach, pedagogy risks reinforcing a broader culture engrossed in screens and oversimplifications. In such a context, teaching can quickly transform into inaccessible jargon that alienates rather than educates.

Resisting Educational “Neutrality”

In the current historical moment, education cannot surrender to the call of academics who now claim in the age of Trump that there is no room for politics in the classroom, or the increasing claim by administrators that universities have a responsibility to remain neutral. This position is not only deeply flawed but also complicit in its silence over the current far right politicization of education.

The call for neutrality in many North American universities is a retreat from social and moral responsibility, masking the reality that these institutions are deeply embedded in power relations. As Heidi Matthews, Fatima Ahdash and Priya Gupta aptly argue, neutrality “serves to flatten politics and silence scholarly debate,” obscuring the inherently political nature of university life. From decisions about enrollment and research funding to event policies and poster placements, every administrative choice reflects a political stance. Far from apolitical, neutrality is a tool that silences dissent and shields power from accountability.

It is worth repeating that the most powerful forms of education today extend far beyond public and higher education. With the rise of new technologies, power structures and social media, culture itself has become a tool of propaganda. Right-wing media, conservative foundations, and a culture dominated by violence and reality TV created the fertile ground for the rise of Trump and his continued legitimacy. Propaganda machines like Fox News have fostered an anti-intellectual climate, normalizing Trump’s bigotry, lies, racism and history of abuse. This is not just a political failure — it is an educational crisis.

In the age of new media, platforms like Elon Musk’s X and tech giants like Facebook, Netflix and Google have become powerful teaching machines, actively serving the far right and promoting the values of gangster capitalism. These companies are reshaping education, turning it into a training ground for workers who align with their entrepreneurial vision or, even more dangerously, perpetuating a theocratic, ultra-nationalist agenda that views people of color and marginalized groups as threats. This vision of education must be rejected in the strongest terms, for it erodes both democracy and the very purpose of education itself. 

Education as Mass Mobilization

Education, in its truest sense, must be about more than training students to be workers or indoctrinating them into a white Christian nationalist view of who does and doesn’t count as American. Education should foster intellectual rigor and critical thinking, empowering students to interrogate their experiences and aspirations while equipping them with the agency to act with informed judgment. It must be a bold and supportive space where student voices are valued and engaged with pressing social and political issues, cultivating a commitment to justice, equality and freedom. In too many classrooms in the U.S., there are efforts to make students voiceless, which amounts to making them powerless. This must be challenged and avoided at all times.

Critical pedagogy must expose the false equivalence of capitalism and democracy, emphasizing that resisting fascism requires challenging capitalism. To be transformative, it should embrace anti-capitalist principles, champion radical democracy and envision political alternatives beyond conventional ideologies.

In the face of growing attacks on higher education, educators must reclaim their role in shaping futures, advancing a vision of education as integral to the struggle for democracy. This vision rejects the neoliberal framing of education as a private investment and instead embraces a critical pedagogy as a practice of freedom that disrupts complacency, fosters critical engagement, and empowers students to confront the forces shaping their lives.

In an age of resurgent fascism, education must do more than defend reason and critical judgment — it must also mobilize widespread, organized collective resistance. A number of youth movements, from Black Lives Matter and the Sunrise Movement to Fridays for Future and March for Our Lives, are mobilizing in this direction. The challenge here is to bring these movements together into one multiracial, working-class organization.

The struggle for a radical democracy must be anchored in the complexities of our time — not as a fleeting sentiment but as an active, transformative project. Democracy is not simply voting, nor is it the sum of capitalist values and market relations. It is an ideal and promise — a vision of a future that does not imitate the present; it is the lifeblood of resistance, struggle, and the ongoing merging of justice, ethics and freedom.

In a society where democracy is under siege, educators must recognize that alternative futures are not only possible but that acting on this belief is essential to achieving social change.

The global rise of fascism casts a long shadow, marked by state violence, silenced dissent and the assault on critical thought. Yet history is not a closed book — it is a call to action, a space for possibility. Now, more than ever, we must dare to think boldly, act courageously, and forge the democratic futures that justice demands and humanity deserves.

Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Trumpism, Neoliberalism, and the Abandoned Majority

In the ongoing battle between Trumpism and neoliberalism, much of the mainstream narrative paints these forces as diametrically opposed. In reality, while they clash on culture-war rhetoric and political branding, both camps operate in ways that protect entrenched wealth and power—especially within higher education.

Trumpism, with its populist veneer, frames itself as a rebellion against “the establishment.” Yet Donald Trump’s policies in office—including massive corporate tax cuts, deregulation favoring billionaires, and the rollback of labor protections—aligned closely with neoliberal orthodoxy. His administration stacked the Department of Education with for-profit college lobbyists and dismantled borrower protections, leaving indebted students vulnerable to predatory lending.

Neoliberalism, as embodied by centrist Democrats and much of the university establishment, champions “meritocracy” and global competitiveness, but often functions as a machine for upward wealth transfer. University leaders such as Princeton’s Christopher Eisgruber, Northwestern’s Michael Schill, Harvard’s Claudine Gay, Stanford’s Marc Tessier-Lavigne, Texas A&M’s M. Katherine Banks, and reformist chancellors Andrew Martin of Washington University in St. Louis and Daniel Diermeier of Vanderbilt oversee institutions that cut faculty jobs, outsource labor, and raise tuition, all while securing lucrative corporate and donor partnerships. These leaders, regardless of political branding, manage universities as if they were hedge funds with classrooms attached.

In both cases, the non-elite—students burdened by soaring debt, adjunct professors lacking job security, and underpaid university workers—remain locked in systems of extraction. Trumpist politicians rail against “liberal elites” while quietly protecting billionaire donors and for-profit education interests. Neoliberal university leaders publicly oppose Trumpism but maintain donor networks tied to Wall Street, Silicon Valley, and global finance, reinforcing the same structural inequality.

This false binary obscures the shared economic agenda of privatization, commodification, and concentration of wealth and power within elite institutions. For the working class and the educated underclass, there is no true champion—only differing marketing strategies for the same system of exploitation.


Sources

  • Henry A. Giroux, Neoliberalism’s War on Higher Education (Haymarket Books, 2014)

  • David Dayen, “Trump’s Fake Populism,” The American Prospect

  • Jon Marcus, “The New College Presidents and Their Corporate Mindset,” The Hechinger Report

  • U.S. Department of Education, Office of Federal Student Aid, “Borrower Defense to Repayment Reports”

  • New York Times coverage of Claudine Gay, Marc Tessier-Lavigne, Michael Schill, and M. Katherine Banks’ administrative records

Thursday, October 30, 2025

When Parenthood Feels Like a Trap: Regret, Trumpism, and the Educated Underclass

The recent MSN article “I Regret Having Children — It Has Stripped My Life of Meaning” is not just a private confession. It is a mirror reflecting a collapsing social order — one where parenting, education, and labor are all defined by debt, exhaustion, and disillusionment.

In today’s America, the family, the school, and the workplace no longer promise progress; they reproduce precarity. The personal regret of parents becomes a collective symptom of a society that demands self-sacrifice but offers little reciprocity.


The Privatization of Care and the Myth of the “Good Parent”

Since the Reagan era, neoliberal ideology has reduced social problems to personal failures. Families are told to work harder, plan better, and be grateful — while the state retreats from childcare, healthcare, and education.

Parenting, once understood as a shared civic project, is now a private ordeal. The “good parent” myth demands endless self-denial while ignoring the structural forces that make family life unsustainable: stagnant wages, unaffordable housing, unaffordable education, and the erosion of community networks.

The parent who whispers, “I regret having children,” isn’t rejecting love — they are acknowledging betrayal. They were promised fulfillment through family, but abandoned by a system that commodifies care and isolates suffering.


The Dobbs Decision and the Politics of Coerced Parenthood

The 2022 Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization ruling — which overturned Roe v. Wade — deepened this betrayal. By stripping away the constitutional right to abortion, the Supreme Court forced millions into unwanted pregnancies under conditions of economic and emotional strain.

This was no accident of jurisprudence. It was the political offspring of neoliberal neglect and Trump-era authoritarianism — a regime that exalts “family values” while defunding the social infrastructure that makes family life possible.

Dobbs represents coerced parenthood in a nation without paid leave, affordable childcare, or universal healthcare. It is the culmination of a system that insists on reproduction but refuses responsibility — transforming bodily autonomy into a political battleground while leaving families to fend for themselves.


Trumpism, Despair, and Manufactured Nostalgia

Trumpism feeds on the despair that neoliberalism creates. It promises to restore “traditional America” — stable jobs, strong families, obedient children — but it offers only resentment as consolation.

When exhausted parents or debt-ridden graduates look for meaning, Trumpian populism channels their frustration toward scapegoats: immigrants, educators, feminists, the poor. It converts structural despair into cultural war.

Trump’s America is a paradox: it glorifies the family while destroying the material base that sustains it. It preaches “Make America Great Again” while keeping its base desperate, indebted, and emotionally dependent on rage.


The Rise of the Educated Underclass

Nowhere is this contradiction clearer than in the making of the educated underclass — the millions of Americans who did everything “right” but found the social contract shredded beneath them.

They earned degrees, followed career advice, and invested in the myth of meritocracy. Yet decades of wage stagnation, precarious employment, and student debt have left them economically fragile and politically disoriented.

Many are parents who believed education would secure their children’s futures. Instead, they see their own children inheriting instability — locked out of homeownership, burdened with loans, and facing a world where credentials no longer guarantee dignity.

This educated underclass, spanning teachers, social workers, adjunct professors, nurses, and mid-level professionals, represents the human fallout of the neoliberal university and the marketized economy it feeds. Their disillusionment — like parental regret — is both personal and systemic.


Higher Education as a Debt Factory

Colleges once promised upward mobility; now they manufacture anxiety and debt. The family that sacrifices for tuition does so on faith that a degree still matters. But as corporate consolidation and automation erode stable work, that faith collapses.

Parents, particularly those from the working and lower-middle class, internalize this collapse as failure — not recognizing that the problem lies in a system that sells hope on credit. Their children, emerging into a gig economy with record debt, form the next generation of the educated underclass: credentialed, precarious, and politically volatile.


Regret as a Rational Response

In this context, parental regret is not deviance — it is rational. It reflects the exhaustion of trying to raise children, pay loans, and sustain meaning in a society where everything, including love, has been commodified.

It reflects the psychic cost of neoliberalism’s lie: that education, work, and family can still deliver self-realization without collective solidarity or public investment.

And it warns of what happens when a nation loses faith not only in its institutions but in the very act of reproduction itself.


Toward a Politics of Care and Repair

To break this cycle, we must confront the intertwined crises of reproduction, education, and inequality. A humane alternative would demand:

  • Universal reproductive freedom — protecting the right not to bear children, and the resources to raise them with dignity.

  • Tuition-free higher education and student debt relief — dismantling the educated underclass.

  • Guaranteed childcare, healthcare, and paid leave — treating parenting as collective labor, not private suffering.

  • Living wages and housing justice — reestablishing the economic base of real family life.

  • Democratized higher education — ending the capture of universities by finance and corporate boards.

Only by restoring care as a public good — not a private burden — can we move beyond regret toward renewal.


From Regret to Resistance

The parent who says, “I regret having children,” and the graduate who says, “My degree ruined my life,” are not failures. They are witnesses. Their grief exposes the moral bankruptcy of a system that exploits care, education, and aspiration for profit.

Trumpism thrives on that despair, offering nostalgia instead of justice. Neoliberalism rationalizes it, calling it “personal responsibility.”

But the truth is collective: meaning cannot survive where solidarity has been destroyed. The antidote to regret is not silence — it is organizing. It is rebuilding a society where care, education, and dignity are shared, not sold.


Sources

  • MSN News, “I Regret Having Children — It Has Stripped My Life of Meaning,” 2025.

  • Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, 597 U.S. ___ (2022).

  • Donath, Orna. Regretting Motherhood: A Sociopolitical Analysis. North Atlantic Books, 2017.

  • Fraser, Nancy. Cannibal Capitalism. Verso, 2022.

  • Brown, Wendy. Undoing the Demos. Zone Books, 2015.

  • Giroux, Henry. Neoliberalism’s War on Higher Education. Haymarket, 2014.

  • Hochschild, Arlie. Strangers in Their Own Land. The New Press, 2016.

  • Shaulis, Dahn. The College Meltdown (Higher Education Inquirer archives).

Thursday, November 6, 2025

Hyper Credentialism and the Neoliberal College Meltdown (Glen McGhee and Dahn Shaulis)

In the neoliberal era, higher education has become less a public good and more a marketplace of promises. The ideology of “lifelong learning” has been weaponized into an endless treadmill of hyper-credentialism — a cycle in which students, workers, and institutions are trapped in perpetual pursuit of new degrees, certificates, and micro-badges.


From Education to Signaling


Once, a college degree was seen as a path to citizenship and critical thought. Today, it’s a market signal — and an increasingly weak one. The bachelor’s degree no longer guarantees stable employment, so the system produces ever-more credentials: master’s programs, micro-certificates, “badges,” and other digital tokens of employability.

This shift doesn’t solve economic precarity — it monetizes it. Workers internalize the blame for their own stagnating wages, believing that the next credential will finally make them “market ready.” Employers, meanwhile, use credential inflation to justify low pay and increased screening, outsourcing the costs of training onto individuals.

A Perfect Fit for Neoliberalism

Hyper-credentialism is not a side effect; it’s a feature of the neoliberal education economy. It supports four pillars of the model:

Privatization and Profit Extraction – Public funding declines while students pay more. Each new credential creates a new revenue stream for universities, online program managers (OPMs), and ed-tech corporations.

Individual Responsibility – The structural causes of unemployment or underemployment are reframed as personal failures. “You just need to upskill.”

Debt Dependency – Students and workers finance their “reskilling” through federal loans and employer-linked programs, feeding the student-debt industry and its servicers.

Market Saturation and Collapse – As more credentials flood the market, each becomes less valuable. Institutions respond by creating even more credentials, accelerating the meltdown.

The Education-Finance Complex

The rise of hyper-credentialism is inseparable from the growth of the education-finance complex — a web of universities, private lenders, servicers, and Wall Street investors.
Firms like 2U, Coursera, and Guild Education sell the illusion of “access” while extracting rents from students and institutions alike. University administrators, pressured by enrollment declines, partner with these firms to chase new markets — often by spinning up online master’s programs with poor outcomes.

The result is a debt-driven ecosystem that thrives even as public confidence collapses. The fewer good jobs there are, the more desperate people become to buy new credentials. The meltdown feeds itself.

Winners and Losers

Winners: Ed-tech executives, university administrators, debt servicers, and the politicians who promote “lifelong learning” as a substitute for wage growth or labor rights.

Losers: Students, adjunct faculty, working-class families, and the public universities hollowed out by austerity and privatization.

The rhetoric of “upskilling” and “personal growth” masks a grim reality: a transfer of wealth from individuals to financialized institutions under the guise of opportunity.

A System That Can’t Redeem Itself

As enrollment declines and public trust erodes, the industry doubles down on micro-credentials and “stackable” pathways — small fixes to a structural crisis. Each badge, each certificate, is sold as a ticket back into the middle class. Yet every new credential devalues the old, producing diminishing returns for everyone except those selling the product.

Hyper-credentialism thus becomes both the symptom and the accelerant of the college meltdown. It sustains the illusion of mobility in a collapsing system, ensuring that the blame never reaches the architects of austerity, privatization, and financialization.

Sources and Further Reading

Brown, Wendy. Undoing the Demos: Neoliberalism’s Stealth Revolution.

Giroux, Henry. Neoliberalism’s War on Higher Education.

Cottom, Tressie McMillan. Lower Ed: The Troubling Rise of For-Profit Colleges in the New Economy.

The Higher Education Inquirer archives on the college meltdown, OPMs, and the debt economy.

Tuesday, July 22, 2025

Neoliberalism, Accreditation, and the Endless Reinvention of Higher Ed Scams

Fraudsters are like cockroaches: persistent, hard to eliminate, and always scurrying just beneath the surface. And like cockroaches, when you see one, you can assume many more are hidden from view. In the sprawling, trillion-dollar ecosystem of American higher education—built on trust, hope, and credentials—fraud has been a constant companion. And under neoliberalism, it doesn’t just survive. It adapts, multiplies, and thrives.

The case of Anthony Bieda and the newly formed National Association for Academic Excellence (NAAE) is a vivid reminder of how this ecosystem protects and even rewards those who have failed the public. Bieda, a former executive at the disgraced Accrediting Council for Independent Colleges and Schools (ACICS), is now fronting a fresh accreditation startup, backed by conservative donors and political forces aligned with Donald Trump’s vision for higher ed deregulation.

NAAE’s mission is to provide a “holistic,” “anti-woke” alternative to traditional accreditors, evaluating colleges not on outcomes like graduation rates or job placement, but on how they shape the “human person.” It's vague, ideological, and intentionally opaque. Even Bieda admits the metrics are a secret—soon to be intellectual property.

Fraud in American higher education didn’t start with Trump University or Corinthian Colleges. It dates back to the 19th century, when diploma mills sold degrees like snake oil. In the early 20th century, accreditation systems emerged to clean up the mess—but fraud simply evolved. As the federal government opened the spigot of student aid after World War II, for-profit colleges and shady operators followed the money.

By the 2000s, the con had been professionalized. Publicly traded companies like Corinthian and ITT Tech learned how to game the system, using slick advertising, inflated job placement rates, and predatory recruiting to rake in billions in Title IV funds. The students—often low-income, Black, Latino, veterans, or single mothers—were left with broken promises and ballooning debt.

The watchdogs failed them. And some, like ACICS, weren’t just negligent—they were complicit.

In theory, accreditors are gatekeepers. In practice, they’ve too often been enablers. Accreditation bodies are funded by the very institutions they review, leading to deep structural conflicts of interest. ACICS became notorious for accrediting schools that federal and state regulators had flagged as predatory. After years of scrutiny, it was finally shut down in 2022.

Yet here we are, three years later, with ACICS’s former leader launching a new accrediting agency, this time cloaked in the language of "freedom of thought" and "anti-wokeness." Backed by the American Academy of Sciences and Letters (AASL), which insists it’s apolitical despite pushing overt culture war themes, NAAE is asking to be trusted with federal gatekeeping power.

It’s neoliberalism in action: dismantle public systems, defang oversight, and recycle failed leaders with fresh branding. The logic isn’t about protecting students—it’s about deregulating markets under the guise of reform.

The digital age has only made things worse. Online colleges with low academic standards, limited faculty oversight, and profit-driven motives are booming. AI will soon be used not just in instruction and grading, but in accreditation assessments themselves. NAAE promises to use AI to detect inconsistencies and enforce its vague standards. But when the standards themselves are ideological and untested, automation becomes a smokescreen.

Meanwhile, shady consultants, student loan relief scammers, and credentialing platforms are multiplying. It's not just about bad schools anymore—it’s an entire financialized ecosystem that treats students as data points and debtors.

Occasionally, the public sees the fraud for what it is. Corinthian and ITT collapsed. Whistleblowers have emerged. Borrower defense lawsuits have won relief. But like cockroaches, fraudsters scatter and reassemble elsewhere. They form new schools, new agencies, new lobbies. They rebrand and wait for the political winds to shift.

And with Trump pushing to dismantle the Department of Education and rewrite accreditation rules by executive order, the roaches are back in the kitchen.

At the Higher Education Inquirer, we believe fraud is not just a byproduct of capitalism—it’s a feature of an underregulated, investor-driven model of education. The solution is not to invent new accreditors with old ideas, but to demand radical transparency and public accountability.

That means open data on outcomes, default rates, and executive pay. It means public audits of accreditor decisions. It requires whistleblower protections for staff and students. And it must include criminal and financial penalties for institutional fraud.

Because fraudsters are like cockroaches. You may never eliminate them all—but you can turn on the lights, close the cracks, and make it a lot harder for them to scurry back into power.

Sources
Theo Scheer, “He Helped Lead a Disgraced College Accreditor. Under Trump, He Might Have Another Shot.” The Chronicle of Higher Education, July 21, 2025
U.S. Department of Education actions on ACICS (2016–2022)
Higher Education Inquirer reporting on for-profit colleges, accreditation failures, and Trump-era education policy
Interviews with whistleblowers and former students of collapsed institutions

Wednesday, December 3, 2025

A Century of American Exploitation: Oil, Crypto, and the Struggle for Latin America’s Universities

Latin America—a region of thirty-three countries stretching from Mexico through Central and South America and across the Caribbean—has spent more than a century fighting against foreign exploitation. Its universities, which should anchor local prosperity, cultural autonomy, and democratic life, have instead been repeatedly reshaped by foreign corporations, U.S. government interests, global lenders, and now crypto speculators. Yet the region’s history is also defined by persistent, courageous resistance, led overwhelmingly by students, faculty, and Indigenous communities.

Understanding today’s educational crisis in Latin America requires tracing this long arc of exploitation—and the struggle to build systems rooted in equity rather than extraction.

1900s–1930s: Bananas, Oil, and the Rise of the “Banana Republics”

Early in the 20th century, American corporations established vast profit-making empires in Latin America. United Fruit Company—today’s Chiquita Banana—dominated land, labor, and politics across Guatemala, Honduras, and Costa Rica. Standard Oil and Texaco secured petroleum concessions in Venezuela and Ecuador, laying foundations for decades of foreign control that extracted immense wealth while leaving behind environmental devastation, as seen in Texaco’s toxic legacy in the Ecuadorian Amazon between 1964 and 1992.

Universities were bent toward these foreign interests. Agricultural programs were geared toward serving plantation economies, not local farmers. Engineering and geological research aligned with extractive industries, not community development.

Resistance did emerge. Student groups in Guatemala and Costa Rica formed part of early anti-oligarchic movements, linking national sovereignty to university reform. Their demands echoed global currents of democratization. Evidence of these early student-led struggles appears in archival materials and Latin American scholarship on university reform, and culminates in the influential 1918 Córdoba Manifesto in Argentina—a radical declaration that attacked oligarchic, colonial universities and demanded autonomy, co-governance, and public responsibility.

1940s–1980s: Coups, Cold War Interventions, and the Deepening of U.S. Oil Interests

During the Cold War, exploitation intensified. In Guatemala, the CIA-backed overthrow of democratically elected President Jacobo Árbenz in 1954 protected United Fruit’s land holdings. Universities were purged or militarized, and critical scholars were exiled or killed.

In Chile, the 1973 overthrow of Salvador Allende—supported by American corporate giants such as ITT and Anaconda Copper—ushered in a brutal dictatorship. Under Augusto Pinochet, thousands were murdered, tortured, or disappeared, while the Chicago Boys imported radical neoliberal reforms that privatized everything, including the higher education system.

Throughout the region, oil deals disproportionately favored American companies. Mexico and Venezuela saw petroleum wealth siphoned off through arrangements that benefited foreign investors while leaving universities underfunded and politically surveilled. Scholarship critical of foreign intervention was marginalized, while programs feeding engineers and economists to multinational firms were expanded.

Student resistance reached historic proportions. Chilean students and faculty formed the core of the anti-dictatorship movement. Mexico’s students rose in 1968, demanding democracy and university autonomy before being massacred in Tlatelolco. CIA declassified documents reveal that student uprisings across Latin America in the early 1970s were so widespread that U.S. intelligence considered them a regional threat.

1990s–2000s: Neoliberalism, Privatization, and the Americanization of Higher Education

In the 1990s, neoliberalism swept the region under pressure from Washington, the IMF, and the World Bank. After NAFTA, Mexico’s universities became increasingly aligned with corporate labor pipelines. In Brazil, Petrobras’ partnerships with American firms helped reshape engineering curricula. Private universities and for-profit models proliferated across the region, echoing U.S. higher ed corporatization.

Hugo Chávez captured the broader sentiment of resistance when he declared that public services—including education—cannot be privatized without violating fundamental rights.

Students fought back across Latin America. In Argentina and Brazil they contested tuition hikes and privatization. In Venezuela, the debate shifted toward whether oil revenue should fund tuition-free universities.

Indigenous Exclusion, Racism, and the Colonial Foundations of Inequality

One of the greatest challenges in understanding Latin American education is acknowledging the deep racial and ethnic stratification that predates U.S. exploitation but has been exacerbated by it. Countries like Ecuador, Bolivia, Peru, Mexico, Brazil, and Guatemala have large Indigenous populations that, to this day, receive the worst education—much like Native American communities relegated to underfunded reservation schools in the United States.

Racism remains powerful. Whiter populations enjoy greater economic and educational access. University admission is shaped by class and color. These divisions are not accidental; they are a machinery of control.

There have been important exceptions. Under President Rafael Correa, Ecuador built hundreds of new schools, including Siglo XXI and Millennium Schools, and expanded public education access. In Mexico, the 2019 constitutional reform strengthened Indigenous rights, including commitments to culturally relevant education. Bolivia—whose population is majority Indigenous—has promoted Indigenous languages, judicial systems, and education structures.

But progress is fragile. Austerity, IMF conditionalities, and elite resistance have led to cutbacks, school closures, and renewed privatization across the region. The study you provided on Ecuador documents Indigenous ambivalence, even hostility, toward Correa’s universal education plan—revealing how colonial wounds, cultural erasure, and distrust of state power complicate reform and provide openings for divide-and-conquer strategies long exploited by ruling classes.

These contradictions deepen when Indigenous movements—rightfully demanding no mining, no oil extraction, and protection of ancestral lands—collide with leftist governments reliant on resource extraction to fund public services. This tension is especially acute in Ecuador and Bolivia.

2010s–Present: Crypto Colonialism and a New Frontier of Exploitation

Cryptocurrency has opened a new chapter in Latin America’s long history of foreign-driven experimentation. El Salvador’s adoption of Bitcoin in 2021, promoted by President Nayib Bukele, transformed the country into a speculative test lab. Bukele has now spent more than $660 million in U.S. dollars on crypto, according to investigative reporting from InSight Crime. Universities rushed to create blockchain programs that primarily serve international investors rather than Salvadoran students.

In Venezuela, crypto became a survival tool amid hyperinflation and economic collapse. Yet foreign speculators profited while universities starved. Student groups warned that crypto research was being weaponized to normalize economic chaos and distract from public-sector deterioration.

Resistance has grown. Salvadoran students have protested the Bitcoin law, demanding that public resources focus on infrastructure, health, and education. Venezuelan students call for rebuilding social programs rather than chasing speculative financial technologies.

Contemporary Student Resistance: 2010s–2020s

Across the region, student movements remain powerful. The Chilean Winter of 2011–2013 demanded free, quality public education and challenged Pinochet’s neoliberal legacy. The movement culminated in the 2019 uprising, where education reform was central.

Mexico’s UNAM students continue to resist corruption, tuition hikes, gender violence, and the encroachment of corporate and foreign interests. The 1999–2000 UNAM strike remains one of the longest in modern higher education.

Colombian students have forced governments to negotiate and invest billions in public universities, framing their struggle as resistance to neoliberal austerity shaped by U.S. policy.

Argentina continues to face massive austerity-driven cuts, sparking protests in 2024–2025 reminiscent of earlier waves of resistance. Uruguay’s Tupamaros movement—largely student-led—remains a historical touchstone.

Every country in Latin America has experienced student uprisings. They reflect a truth that Paulo Freire, exiled from Brazil for teaching critical pedagogy, understood deeply: education can either liberate or oppress. Authoritarians, privatizers, and foreign capital prefer the latter, and they act accordingly.

Today’s Regional Education Crisis

The COVID-19 pandemic pushed the system into further crisis. Children in Latin America and the Caribbean lost one out of every two in-person school days between 2020 and 2022. Learning poverty now exceeds 50 percent. Entire generations risk permanent economic loss and civic disenfranchisement.

Infrastructure is collapsing. Rural and Indigenous communities suffer the worst conditions. Public investment is chronically insufficient because governments are trapped in cycles of debt repayment to international lenders. Ecuador has not seen a major public-investment program in a decade, as austerity and IMF repayments dominate national budgets.

The result is a system starved of resources and increasingly vulnerable to privatization schemes—including U.S.-style online coursework, ideological “instruction kits,” and for-profit degree mills.

Latin American Universities as Battlegrounds for Sovereignty

Latin America’s universities are shaped by the same forces that have dominated the region’s history: oil extraction, agribusiness, foreign capital, neoliberalism, structural racism, debt, and now crypto speculation. Yet universities have also been homes to transformation, rebellion, cultural resurgence, and hope.

Across more than a century, students—Indigenous, Afro-descendant, mestizo, working-class—have been the region’s fiercest defenders of public education and national sovereignty. Their resistance continues today, from Quito to Buenos Aires, from Mexico City to Santiago.

For readers of the Higher Education Inquirer, the lesson is clear: the struggle for higher education in Latin America is inseparable from the struggle for democracy, racial justice, Indigenous autonomy, and freedom from foreign domination. The region’s ruling elites and international lenders understand that an educated public is dangerous, which is why they starve, privatize, and discipline public schools. Students understand the opposite: that education is power, and that power must be reclaimed.

The next chapter—especially in countries like Ecuador—will depend on whether students, teachers, and communities can defend public education against the dual forces that have undermined it for more than a century: privatizers and fascists.


Sources (Selection)

National Security Archive, CIA Declassified Documents (1971)
InSight Crime reporting on El Salvador Bitcoin expenditures
Luciani, Laura. “Latin American Student Movements in the 1960s.” Historia y Memoria (2019)
The Córdoba Manifesto (1918)
UNESCO, World Bank data on learning poverty (2024)
Latin American studies on United Fruit, Standard Oil, Texaco/Chevron in Ecuador
LASA Forum: Analysis of Indigenous responses to Correa’s education reforms
Periodico UNAL: “The Student Rebellion: Córdoba and Latin America”
Multiple regional news sources on Argentina’s 2024–2025 education protests

Monday, October 27, 2025

The College Meltdown: A Retrospective

[In 2017, we collaborated with Crush the Street on a video describing the College Meltdown.]  

“Education is not merely a credentialing system; it is a humanizing act that fosters connection, purpose, and community.”


Origins

The College Meltdown began in the mid-2010s as a blog chronicling the slow collapse of U.S. higher education. Rising tuition, mounting student debt, and corporatization were visible signs, but the deeper crisis was structural: the erosion of public accountability and mission.

By 2015, the warning signs were unmistakable to us. On some campuses, student spaces were closed to host corporate “best practices” conferences. At many schools, adjunct instructors carried the bulk of teaching responsibilities, often without benefits, while administrators celebrated innovation. Higher education was quietly being reshaped to benefit corporations over students and communities — a true meltdown.


Patterns of the Meltdown

Enrollment in U.S. colleges began declining as early as 2011, reflecting broader demographic shifts: fewer children entering the system and a growing population of older adults. Small colleges, community colleges, and regional public universities were hardest hit, while flagship institutions consolidated wealth and prestige.

Corporate intermediaries known as Online Program Managers (OPMs) managed recruitment, marketing, and course design, taking large portions of tuition while universities retained risk. Fully automated robocolleges emerged, relying on AI-driven templates, predictive analytics, and outsourced grading. While efficient, these systems dehumanized education: students became data points, faculty became monitors, and mentorship disappeared.

“Robocolleges and AI-driven systems reduce humans to data points — an education stripped of connection is no education at all.”


Feeding the AI Beast

As part of our effort to reclaim knowledge and influence public discourse, we actively contributed to Wikipedia. Over the years, we made more than 12,000 edits on higher education topics, ensuring accurate documentation of predatory practices, adjunct labor, OPMs, and corporatization. These edits both informed the public and, inadvertently, fed the AI beast — large language models and AI systems that scrape Wikipedia for training data now reflect our work, amplifying it in ways we could never have predicted.

“By documenting higher education rigorously, we shaped both public knowledge and the datasets powering AI systems — turning transparency into a tool of influence.”


Anxiety, Anomie, and Alienation

The College Meltdown documented the mental health toll of these transformations. Rising anxiety, feelings of anomie, and widespread alienation were linked to AI reliance, dehumanized classrooms, insecure faculty labor, and societal pressures. Students felt like credential seekers; faculty suffered burnout.

“Addressing the psychological and social effects of dehumanized education is essential for ethical recovery.”


Trump, Anti-Intellectualism, and Fear in the Era of Neoliberalism

The project also addressed the broader political and social climate. The Trump era brought rising anti-intellectualism, skepticism toward expertise, and a celebration of market logic over civic and moral education. For many, it was an era of fear: fear of surveillance, fear of litigation, fear of being marginalized in a rapidly corporatized, AI-driven educational system. Neoliberal policies exacerbated these pressures, emphasizing privatization, metrics, and competition over community and care.

“Living under Trump-era neoliberalism, with AI monitoring, corporate oversight, and mass surveillance, education became a space of anxiety as much as learning.”


Quality of Life and the Call for Rehumanization

Education should serve human well-being, not just revenue. The blog emphasized Quality of Life and advocated for Rehumanization — restoring mentorship, personal connection, and ethical engagement.

“Rehumanization is not a luxury; it is the foundation of meaningful learning.”


FOIA Requests and Whistleblowers

From the start, The College Meltdown relied on evidence-based reporting. FOIA (Freedom of Information Act) requests were used to obtain internal communications, budgets, and regulatory filings, shining light on opaque practices. Whistleblowers, including adjunct faculty and staff at universities and OPMs, provided firsthand testimony of misconduct, financial malfeasance, and educational dehumanization. Their courage was central to the project’s mission of transparency and accountability.

“Insider testimony and public records revealed the hidden forces reshaping higher education, from corporate influence to predatory practices.”


Historical Sociology: Understanding the Systemic Collapse

The importance of historical sociology cannot be overstated in analyzing the decline of higher education. By examining the evolution of educational systems, we can identify patterns of inequality, the concentration of power, and the commodification of knowledge. Historical sociology provides the tools to understand how past decisions and structures have led to the current crisis.

“Historical sociology reveals, defines, and formulates patterns of social development, helping us understand the systemic forces at play in education.”


Naming Bad Actors: Accountability and Reform

A critical aspect of The College Meltdown was the emphasis on naming bad actors — identifying and holding accountable those responsible for the exploitation and degradation of higher education. This included:

  • University Administrators: Prioritizing profit over pedagogy.

  • Corporate Entities: Robocolleges and OPMs profiting at the expense of educational quality.

  • Political Figures and Ultraconservatives: Promoting policies that undermined public education and anti-intellectualism.

“Holding bad actors accountable is essential for meaningful reform and the restoration of education's ethical purpose.”


[In 2016, we called out several bad actors in for-profit higher education, including CEOs Jack Massimino, Kevin Modany, and Todd Nelson.] 

Existential Aspects of Climate Change

The blog also examined the existential dimensions of climate change. Students and faculty face a dual challenge: preparing for uncertain futures while witnessing environmental degradation accelerate. Higher education itself is implicated, both as a contributor through consumption and as a forum for solutions. The looming climate crisis intensifies anxiety, alienation, and the urgency for ethical, human-centered education.

“Climate change makes the stakes of education existential: our survival, our knowledge, and our moral responsibility are intertwined.”


Mass Speculation and Financialization

Another critical theme explored was mass speculation and financialization. The expansion of student debt markets, tuition-backed bonds, and corporate investments in higher education transformed students into financial instruments. These speculative dynamics mirrored broader economic instability, creating both a moral and systemic crisis for the educational sector.

“When education becomes a commodity for speculation, learning, mentorship, and ethical development are subordinated to profit and risk metrics.”


Coverage of Protests and Nonviolent Resistance

The College Meltdown documented student and faculty resistance: tuition protests, adjunct labor actions, and campaigns against predatory OPM arrangements. Nonviolent action was central: teach-ins, sit-ins, and organized campaigns demonstrated moral authority and communal solidarity in the face of systemic pressures, litigation, and corporate intimidation.


Collaboration and Resistance

Glen McGhee provided exceptional guidance, connecting insights on systemic collapse, inequality, and credential inflation. Guest authors contributed across disciplines and movements, making the blog a living archive of accountability and solidarity:

Guest Contributors:
Bryan Alexander, Ann Bowers, James Michael Brodie, Randall Collins, Garrett Fitzgerald, Erica Gallagher, Henry Giroux, David Halperin, Bill Harrington, Phil Hill, Robert Jensen, Hank Kalet, Neil Kraus, the LACCD Whistleblower, Wendy Lynne Lee, Annelise Orleck, Robert Kelchen, Debbi Potts, Jack Metzger, Derek Newton, Gary Roth, Mark Salisbury, Gary Stocker, Harry Targ, Heidi Weber, Richard Wolff, and Helena Worthen.


Lessons from the Meltdown

The crisis was systemic. Technology amplified inequality. Corporate higher education rebranded rather than reformed. Adjunctification and labor precarity became normalized. Communities of color and working-class students suffered disproportionately.

Dehumanization emerged as a central theme. AI, automation, and robocolleges prioritized efficiency over mentorship, data over dialogue, and systems over human relationships. Rising anxiety, anomie, and alienation reflected the human toll.

“Rehumanization, mentorship, community, transparency, ethical accountability, and ecological awareness are essential to restore meaningful higher education.”


Looking Forward

As higher education entered the Trump era, its future remained uncertain. Students, faculty, and communities faced fear under neoliberal policies, AI-driven monitoring, mass surveillance, litigation pressures, ultraconservative influence, climate crises, and financial speculation. Will universities reclaim their role as public goods, or continue as commodified services? The College Meltdown stands as a testament to those who resisted dehumanization and anti-intellectualism. It also calls for Quality of Life, ethical practice, mental well-being, environmental responsibility, and Rehumanization, ensuring education serves the whole person, not just the bottom line. 


Sources and References

  • Washington, Harriet A. Medical Apartheid. Doubleday, 2006.

  • Rosenthal, Elisabeth. An American Sickness. Penguin, 2017.

  • Skloot, Rebecca. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Crown, 2010.

  • Nelson, Alondra. Body and Soul. University of Minnesota Press, 2011.

  • Paucek, Chip. “2U and the Growth of OPMs.” EdSurge, 2021. link

  • Ravitch, Diane. The Death and Life of the Great American School System. Basic Books, 2010.

  • Alexander, Bryan. Academia Next. Johns Hopkins University Press, 2020.

  • U.S. Department of Education. “Closed School Information.” 2016–2020. link

  • Federal Reserve Bank of New York. Student Debt Statistics, 2024. link

  • Wayback Machine Archive of College Meltdown Blog: link