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Monday, December 22, 2025

The Meritocratic Mask Is Crumbling (Glen McGhee)

“The Merit Ladder”

You unlock the door to a university, and the corridor stretches infinitely upward. Every student walks the same stairwell, one step at a time. The walls are adorned with clocks, calculators, and grade sheets, ticking and tallying as if the universe itself measured effort with perfect fairness.

But something is wrong. Some students float effortlessly upward, their steps silent, their progress smooth. Others stumble on invisible obstacles, their feet dragging in ways the rules do not explain. They glance at the walls, at the clocks, at the calculators—every metric insists they are equal, every announcement proclaims fairness. Yet the disparity is undeniable.

A voice echoes from the ceiling, calm, clinical: “Merit is universal. Merit is measurable. Merit is scale-invariant.” The students nod, forced to believe, even as they watch their neighbors leap ahead. Some students whisper, “It’s not the merit—it’s the ladder.” And indeed, the ladder is uneven, its rungs hidden, shifted by invisible hands of wealth, culture, geography, and health.

In this world—the stairwell of American higher education—the illusion of fairness is maintained with meticulous care. But every so often, a student notices the truth, and then the voice falters, the clocks pause, and the corridors ripple with the secret that can no longer be hidden. For the myth of meritocracy is collapsing. The ladder was never fair, and now, as the illusion fades, everyone will see it.


The Scale-Invariance Claim

For more than a century, American higher education has rested on an elegant but unspoken assumption: that the rules of meritocracy are scale-invariant. The ideology promises that any student—regardless of wealth, geography, culture, family background, or health—can climb the credential ladder. A student from a low-income rural household competes on the same metric as a student from an affluent suburb. A community college student is measured by the same ruler as an Ivy League undergraduate. Merit, the story goes, is constant across all scales.

This is the deep mathematical promise embedded in the system:
(X, merit) ≅ (X, λ·merit) for all λ > 0.
Change the scale—money, social capital, proximity, cultural background—and the metric of “merit” supposedly remains unchanged. Hard work is invariant. Ability is invariant. The measurement of learning is invariant.

But no part of this has ever been true. To understand the experience, one could step into Kafka’s The Trial, where invisible, arbitrary rules govern the fates of all, or into the unsettling dimensions of The Twilight Zone, where a carefully maintained illusion of fairness masks structural control. Episodes like “The Obsolete Man” or “Number 12 Looks Just Like You” illustrate societies where uniform rules are proclaimed but inequities are baked into every interaction—a perfect mirror for the fiction of meritocracy.


The Characteristic Scales American Higher Ed Pretends Not to Have

Every foundational element of U.S. higher education has a characteristic scale. Once these scales are made visible, the meritocratic myth dissolves.

Financial scale.
With little money, a student cannot attend or persist. With substantial wealth, barriers disappear. Financial rescaling completely changes outcomes.

Social capital scale.
A family with generations of college experience confers knowledge, networks, and expectations that directly affect admissions, persistence, and post-graduation trajectories. First-generation students navigate blind. The system is not invariant under social capital rescaling.

Geographic scale.
Proximity to selective universities, high-performing high schools, or robust community college systems radically alters opportunity. Rural and small-town America operates at a completely different scale.

Cultural and linguistic scale.
Students whose home culture mirrors academic expectations “fit.” Students from culturally distant communities must perform costly translation work. This is not a scale-invariant environment.

Health and disability scale.
Students without health barriers move cleanly through the system. Students with disabilities or chronic illness face friction at every stage. Their outcomes follow a different curve.

A genuinely scale-invariant system would show consistent outcomes across all these starting positions. American higher education shows the opposite. The system has always been scale-dependent—and merit was never the dominant term.


The Measurement Problem the Meritocracy Never Solved

The ideological foundation requires not only a scale-invariant world but a scale-invariant measurement system. GPA, grades, test scores, papers, and degrees must reliably track some underlying construct called “merit” or “learning.”

Higher education never developed such a construct. “Learning” is not stable across institutions or contexts. It is socially constructed daily by instructors with different philosophies, different constraints, and different biases. There is no psychometric framework that defines a scale-invariant measure of learning. The closest attempts—standardized testing regimes—have repeatedly collapsed under their own inequities.

Yet the system pretends that a 3.8 at an Ivy and a 3.2 at a regional university reflect a universal metric rather than two entirely different grading cultures.


Grade Inflation and AI Cheating: The Mask Slips

Recent trends expose how fragile the entire measurement fiction has become.

Elite universities give A grades at unprecedented rates. Two-thirds of all grades at some institutions are now A’s. GPA averages well above 3.7 are defended as “signs of excellence,” but in practice they are rescalings of the ruler itself. Institutions under competitive prestige pressure simply adjust the metric to protect their reputation.

AI cheating accelerates the collapse. Students with resources buy tutoring, editing, and AI-powered writing tools. These tools outperform human novices. The ability to “perform merit” is now directly purchasable. The metric no longer measures writing ability or analytical thinking. It measures access to technology, coaching, and time.

The function of grades has shifted from signaling ability to signaling socioeconomic positioning. What was once ρ(ability) is now ρ(ability + money), with wealth as the dominant term.


Literary and Cultural Parallels

This collapse is eerily familiar in literature and media. Kafka’s The Trial captures the experience of navigating opaque rules that punish effort unpredictably. Huxley’s Brave New World and Orwell’s 1984 show societies that insist on fairness while structurally enforcing inequality. Ellison’s Invisible Man exposes the consequences of climbing a ladder rigged by invisible scales.

The Twilight Zone dramatized these dynamics for mass audiences. Episodes such as “The Obsolete Man”, “Number 12 Looks Just Like You”, and “The Shelter” depict societies where declared rules are universal, yet outcomes are determined by hidden advantages. These narratives echo the experience of students forced to believe in meritocracy even while the structural scales—wealth, family education, geography, culture, health—determine success.


What “Never Was Meritocratic” Actually Means

When HEI reports that American higher education never was meritocratic, it is not a moral accusation. It is an empirical one. The system was constructed with characteristic scales baked in. Wealth, social capital, proximity, culture, and health have always determined trajectories.

The ideology of merit obscured those scales by promising invariance where none existed. The promise served to justify gatekeeping, tuition inflation, credential inflation, and systematic exclusion. Legacy admissions, donor influence, geographic disparities, and familial educational background were not aberrations—they were structural pillars.


The Collapse of the Meritocratic Narrative

The contemporary system is unraveling because the myth of scale-invariance—its core ideological justification—has been exposed as untenable.

Grade inflation reveals that institutions adjust the metric to preserve prestige.
AI reveals that performance can be outsourced or purchased.
Credential inflation reveals that degrees are required because employers have no alternative signal—not because the degrees measure anything.
Homeschooling and private micro-schools reflect widespread disbelief in the system’s ability to measure learning.
Employer skepticism shows that the labor market no longer trusts the bachelor’s degree as a signal.

Once the legitimacy of the metric collapses, the legitimacy of the entire structure collapses with it.


The Devastating Implication: A System Built on a Mathematical Fiction

A truly scale-invariant system would show no significant correlation between wealth and degree attainment, no legacy effects, no geographic disparities, and no demographic patterning. The opposite is true in every dimension.

This system is not failing to fulfill its meritocratic promise. It never could fulfill it. It was designed for scale-dependence and shielded by the promise of scale-invariance.

Now that the mask is slipping, the $80,000 price tags, the exclusionary admissions processes, the credential inflation, and the crushing student debt load are losing their ideological justification. Without the fiction that merit is meaningfully and consistently measured, the system’s rationale dissolves.

The crisis of American higher education is not primarily a financial crisis or a demographic crisis. It is a legitimacy crisis. The foundational myth—meritocracy as scale-invariance—has collapsed. And with it, the justification for the entire credentialing apparatus is beginning to collapse as well.


Sources
Higher Education Inquirer archives on grade inflation, admissions inequities, and credential inflation.
John Beach’s work on the social construction of “learning.”
HEI reporting on AI cheating, K-12 system collapse, employer distrust, and the shifting meaning of academic credentials.
Franz Kafka, The Trial
Aldous Huxley, Brave New World
George Orwell, 1984
Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man
Twilight Zone episodes: “The Obsolete Man,” “Number 12 Looks Just Like You,” “The Shelter”

Friday, December 19, 2025

HybriU: A Cloaked Threat in U.S. Higher Ed That the House Committee on the CCP Has Ignored

[Editor's note: The Higher Education Inquirer has attempted to contact the House Select Committee on the Chinese Communist Party a number of times regarding our extensive investigation of Ambow Education and HybriU.  As of this posting, we have never received a response.]  

In the evolving landscape of U.S. higher education, one emerging force has attracted growing concern from the Higher Education Inquirer but remarkably little attention from policymakers: Ambow Education’s HybriU platform. Marketed as a next-generation AI-powered “phygital” learning solution designed to merge online and in-person instruction, HybriU raises serious questions about academic credibility, data governance, and foreign influence. Yet it has remained largely outside the scope of inquiry by the House Select Committee on the Chinese Communist Party.

Ambow Education has long operated in opaque corners of the for-profit higher education world. Headquartered in the Cayman Islands with a U.S. presence in Cupertino, California, the company’s governance and leadership history are tangled and controversial. 

Under CEO and Board Chair Jin Huang, Ambow has repeatedly survived regulatory and institutional crises, prompting the HEI to liken her to “Harry Houdini” for her ability to evade sustained accountability even as schools under Ambow’s control deteriorated. Huang has at times held multiple executive and board roles simultaneously, a concentration of authority that has raised persistent governance concerns. Questions surrounding her academic credentials have also lingered, with no publicly verifiable evidence confirming completion of the doctoral degree she claims.

Ambow’s U.S. footprint includes Bay State College in Boston, which was fined by the Massachusetts Attorney General for deceptive marketing and closed in 2023 after losing accreditation, and the NewSchool of Architecture and Design in San Diego, which continues to operate under financial strain, low enrollment, leadership instability, and federal Heightened Cash Monitoring. These institutional failures form the backdrop against which HybriU is now being promoted as Ambow’s technological reinvention.

Introduced in 2024, HybriU is marketed as an AI-integrated hybrid learning ecosystem combining immersive digital environments, classroom analytics, and global connectivity into a unified platform. Ambow claims the HybriU Global Learning Network will allow U.S. institutions to expand enrollment by connecting international students to hybrid classrooms without traditional visa pathways. Yet independent reporting has found little publicly verifiable evidence of meaningful adoption at major U.S. universities, demonstrated learning outcomes, or independent assessments of HybriU’s educational value, cybersecurity posture, or data governance practices. Much of the platform’s public presentation relies on aspirational language, promotional imagery, and forward-looking statements rather than demonstrable results.

Compounding these concerns is Ambow’s extreme financial fragility. The company’s market capitalization currently stands at approximately US$9.54 million, placing it below the US$10 million threshold widely regarded by investors as a major risk category. Companies at this scale are often lightly scrutinized, thinly traded, and highly vulnerable to operational disruption. Ambow’s share price has also been highly volatile, with an average weekly price change of roughly 22 percent over the past three months, signaling instability and speculative trading rather than confidence in long-term fundamentals. For a company pitching itself as a provider of mission-critical educational infrastructure, such volatility raises serious questions about continuity, vendor risk, and institutional exposure should the company falter or fail.

Ambow’s own financial disclosures report modest HybriU revenues and cite partnerships with institutions such as Colorado State University and the University of the West. However, the terms, scope, and safeguards associated with these relationships have not been publicly disclosed or independently validated. At the same time, Ambow’s reported research and development spending remains minimal relative to its technological claims, reinforcing concerns that HybriU may be more marketing construct than mature platform.

The risks posed by HybriU extend beyond performance and balance sheets. Ambow’s corporate structure, leadership history, and prior disclosures acknowledging Chinese influence in earlier filings raise unresolved governance and jurisdictional questions. While the company asserts it divested its China-based education operations in 2022, executive ties, auditing arrangements, and opaque ownership structures remain. When a platform seeks deep integration into classroom systems, student engagement tools, and institutional data flows, opacity combined with financial fragility becomes a systemic risk rather than a marginal one.

This risk is heightened by the current political environment. With the Trump Administration signaling a softer, more transactional posture toward the CCP—particularly in areas involving business interests, deregulation, and foreign capital—platforms like HybriU may face even less scrutiny going forward. While rhetorical concern about China persists, enforcement priorities appear selective, and ed-tech platforms embedded quietly into academic infrastructure may escape meaningful oversight altogether.

Despite its mandate to investigate CCP influence across U.S. institutions, the House Select Committee on the CCP has not publicly examined Ambow Education or HybriU. There has been no hearing, subpoena, or formal inquiry into the platform’s governance, data practices, financial viability, or long-term risks. This silence reflects a broader blind spot: influence in higher education increasingly arrives not through visible programs or exchanges, but through software platforms and digital infrastructure that operate beneath the political radar.

For colleges and universities considering partnerships with HybriU, the implications are clear. Institutions must treat Ambow not merely as a technology vendor but as a financially fragile, opaque, and lightly scrutinized actor seeking deep integration into core academic systems. Independent audits, transparent governance disclosures, enforceable data-ownership guarantees, and contingency planning for vendor failure are not optional—they are essential.

Education deserves transparency, stability, and accountability, not hype layered atop risk. And oversight bodies charged with protecting U.S. institutions must recognize that the future of influence and vulnerability in higher education may be written not in classrooms, but in code, contracts, and balance sheets.


Sources

Higher Education Inquirer, “Jin Huang, Higher Education’s Harry Houdini” (August 2025)
https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/08/jin-huang-higher-educations-harry.html

Higher Education Inquirer, “Ambow Education Continues to Fish in Murky Waters” (January 2025)
https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/01/ambow-education-continues-to-fish-in.html

Higher Education Inquirer, “Smoke, Mirrors, and the HybriU Hustle: Ambow’s Global Learning Pitch Raises Red Flags” (July 2025)
https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/smoke-mirrors-and-hybriu-hustle-ambows.html

Ambow Education, 2024–2025 Annual and Interim Financial Reports
https://www.ambow.com

Market capitalization and volatility data, publicly available market analytics

Massachusetts Attorney General’s Office, Bay State College settlement

U.S. Department of Education, Heightened Cash Monitoring disclosures

House Select Committee on the Chinese Communist Party, mandate and public hearings

Thursday, December 18, 2025

Higher Education and Empire: How U.S. Universities Reproduce Global Inequality

In the public imagination, universities are bastions of knowledge, debate, and progress. Yet beneath the veneer of research and scholarship lies a more troubling reality: many American institutions of higher education are deeply enmeshed in structures of global power, empire, and inequality. From elite research universities to sprawling public institutions, higher education in the United States not only reflects the hierarchies of the world it inhabits but actively reproduces them.

The complicity of universities is neither incidental nor simply a matter of individual choices by administrators. As scholars have noted, the mechanisms of institutional power are deeply structural. Economic and geopolitical pressures shape research priorities, hiring practices, and funding relationships. Academic capitalism, which treats universities as competitive, profit-driven enterprises, has become the norm rather than the exception (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2022). Faculty labor is increasingly precarious, tenure-track opportunities are scarce, and institutional priorities are subordinated to external market logics. The consequences are profound: the promise of knowledge as a public good is eroded, and access is increasingly limited to those already advantaged by class, race, or geography.

U.S. universities’ entanglement with empire is global in scope. Historical patterns of colonialism persist in the form of research agendas, partnerships, and international collaborations that favor dominant powers. The post-apartheid South African university system, for example, demonstrates how neoliberal pressures reshape higher education into corporatized, commodified institutions, constraining equity and social justice efforts (Jansen, 2024). Similarly, elite U.S. institutions reproduce intersectional inequalities, privileging white male scholars while marginalizing women and scholars from the Global South, consolidating a global hierarchy of knowledge production (Smith & Rodriguez, 2024). Knowledge itself becomes a commodity, valued not for its capacity to enlighten or empower but for its capacity to reinforce global hierarchies.

Military and defense connections illustrate another dimension of complicity. ROTC programs, defense research contracts, and partnerships with intelligence agencies embed universities directly within state power and the machinery of imperial control. Students from working-class backgrounds may see military scholarships as pathways to mobility, yet these programs impose long-term obligations, exposure to systemic discrimination, and moral risk, binding individuals to structures that serve national and corporate interests rather than individual or public welfare (Johnson, 2024). By providing both material incentives and ideological framing, universities shape not only research and discourse but also life trajectories, often in ways that reproduce existing inequalities.

Technological developments exacerbate these trends. The rise of artificial intelligence in global education exemplifies digital neocolonialism, where Western frameworks dominate curricula and knowledge production, marginalizing non-Western epistemologies (Lee, 2024). Universities, in adopting and disseminating these technologies, participate in global systems that enforce cultural hegemony while presenting an illusion of neutrality or progress.

Critics argue that U.S. higher education’s complicity is most visible during crises abroad. In Venezuela, universities have hosted panels and research collaborations that echo dominant U.S. policy narratives, while largely ignoring humanitarian consequences (Higher Education Inquirer, 2025). During conflicts in Yemen and Gaza, partnerships with foreign institutions and the enforcement of donor or corporate agendas frequently coincide with silence on human rights abuses. Even when individual scholars attempt to challenge these norms, institutional pressures—funding dependencies, prestige incentives, and market logics—often constrain their capacity to act.

The structural nature of this complicity means that reform cannot be solely individual or performative. Transparency in funding, ethical scrutiny of partnerships, and protection for dissenting voices are necessary but insufficient. Universities must critically examine their embeddedness within global systems of extraction, surveillance, and domination. They must ask whether the pursuit of prestige, rankings, or revenue aligns with the purported mission of fostering equitable knowledge production. Only through systemic, structural change can institutions move from passive complicity toward active accountability.

The implications of these dynamics extend beyond academia. Universities train professionals, shape policy, and generate research that informs global decision-making. When they normalize inequality, silence dissent, or serve as instruments of state or corporate power, the consequences are felt in classrooms, clinics, policy offices, and across global societies. Students, researchers, and communities are both shaped by and subjected to these power structures, often in ways that perpetuate the very inequalities institutions claim to challenge.

In exposing these patterns, recent scholarship has provided both a theoretical and empirical foundation for critique. From analyses of academic capitalism and labor precarity (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2022) to examinations of global knowledge hierarchies (Smith & Rodriguez, 2024) and digital neocolonialism (Lee, 2024), researchers have mapped the pathways through which higher education reproduces systemic inequality. By integrating these insights, scholars, students, and policymakers can begin to imagine alternatives—universities that truly serve knowledge, equity, and global justice rather than empire and market logic.

Higher education’s promise has always been aspirational: the idea that knowledge might liberate rather than constrain, enlighten rather than exploit. Yet in the current landscape, universities often do the opposite, embedding global hierarchies within their governance, research, and pedagogical frameworks. Recognizing this complicity is the first step. Confronting it requires courage, structural awareness, and a commitment to justice that extends far beyond the walls of the academy.


References

  • Higher Education Inquirer. (2025). Higher Education and Its Complicity in U.S. Empire. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/11/higher-education-and-its-complicity-in.html

  • Jansen, J. (2024). The university in contemporary South Africa: Commodification, corporatisation, complicity, and crisis. Journal of Education and Society, 96, 15–34.

  • Johnson, M. (2024). The hidden costs of ROTC and military pathways. Higher Education Inquirer. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/11/the-hidden-costs-of-rotc-and-military.html

  • Lee, C. (2024). Generative AI and digital neocolonialism in global education: Towards an equitable framework. arXiv:2406.02966.

  • Slaughter, S., & Rhoades, G. (2022). Not in the Greater Good: Academic capitalism and faculty labor in higher education. Education Sciences, 12(12), 912.

  • Smith, R., & Rodriguez, L. (2024). The Howard‑Harvard Effect: Institutional reproduction of intersectional inequalities. arXiv:2402.04391.

Tuesday, December 9, 2025

Preston Cooper Is Wrong: Enrollment Is Only One of Higher Education’s Many Crises

In a recent American Enterprise Institute article, Preston Cooper insists that the post-2010 collapse in college enrollment is “a correction, not a crisis.” According to Cooper, students are becoming more discerning consumers, abandoning low-value colleges and low-ROI degrees while flocking to higher-quality institutions and more lucrative majors. In this narrative, the system is simply shedding inefficiencies. The market is working.

But this argument is incomplete to the point of distortion. Enrollment decline is not a tidy market correction. It is a symptom of profound structural problems: affordability, inequality, political interference, labor exploitation, deteriorating academic quality, widespread cheating, and the growing reliance on “robocolleges” and automated learning platforms with questionable educational value. Cooper’s analysis ignores all of this and reduces higher education to a single variable—student choices—when the system is being reshaped by forces far larger and more corrosive than consumer preference.

Affordability remains the biggest barrier to access. Surveys repeatedly show that adults who never enrolled or who dropped out cite cost as their primary obstacle, and higher education leaders themselves acknowledge that families often do not understand the real price until they are already overwhelmed. Tuition, fees, housing, food, and transportation are enough to make college inaccessible for millions. This is not a sign of students shopping wisely; it is evidence of a system that has priced out vast segments of the population.

Cooper’s argument also ignores how structural inequalities determine who even reaches the point of decision-making. Research from multiple institutions shows that disparities in academic preparation—rooted in racial segregation, school funding inequity, socioeconomic status, and access to quality teachers—heavily influence college-going patterns. Students from under-resourced schools or low-income families do not have equal access to information, support systems, or opportunities. The idea that they are “choosing” not to attend low-value schools disregards the constraints that shape those choices.

Meanwhile, colleges themselves are destabilizing. Shrinking enrollments and stagnant public funding have produced financial crises across the sector. Even reputable institutions rely on aggressive discounting, program cuts, hiring freezes, and dependence on contingent faculty. Student support services shrink while administrative costs continue to rise. Cooper’s framing of “let the weak fail” overlooks the collateral damage: students denied needed resources, programs eliminated, and entire communities harmed when regional colleges collapse.

The crisis extends beyond finances. Students’ freedom of speech is increasingly under pressure as state legislatures, governors, and politically reactive boards restrict curricula, censor faculty, and monitor student organizations. Expression around race, inequality, gender, and geopolitical issues is under surveillance or actively punished. Whether driven by conservative politics, donor pressure, or administrative fear of controversy, the suppression of student and faculty voices undermines the university’s democratic mission.

Cooper also fails to address the degrading working conditions of adjunct faculty, who now make up the majority of instructors. Adjuncts often earn poverty-level wages, lack health insurance, and have no job security. Many teach at multiple institutions simply to survive. The system Cooper describes as “self-correcting” rests on the exploitation of the people responsible for delivering the education students are supposedly choosing.

Then there are the emerging problems he completely ignores: robocolleges and AI-driven instruction. As institutions cut costs, many outsource teaching to automated platforms, online mega-providers, and algorithmic tutoring systems. These “robocolleges” promise efficiency but often deliver shallow instruction, predatory recruitment, weakened student support, and minimal human interaction. They generate revenue, but not always learning. Cooper assumes that students are leaving low-value institutions, yet many of these automated systems are themselves low-value—and increasingly difficult to regulate or evaluate.

The rise of automated education connects directly to another crisis: academic integrity. AI-assisted cheating is now widespread across campuses. Students, overwhelmed by cost pressures, mental health struggles, large class sizes, and insufficient support, increasingly rely on AI tools to complete assignments without understanding the material. Instructors struggle to identify misconduct, institutions scramble to respond, and genuine learning becomes harder to guarantee. This is not the sign of a system “correcting” itself. It is evidence of a sector that has lost its footing and is failing to uphold educational standards.

Cooper’s argument rests on the assumption that higher education should primarily be judged by short-term labor-market returns. But higher education is more than a job-training pipeline. It is a public good that supports social mobility, civic participation, community development, scientific and cultural advancement, and democratic life. A system that suppresses speech, exploits faculty, overrelies on automated instruction, and cannot distinguish real learning from AI-generated work is not corrected. It is in crisis.

The enrollment decline is real, but it is only the surface. Beneath it lies a system plagued by affordability barriers, entrenched inequality, political intrusion, labor precarity, academic degradation, technological misuse, and rising distrust. To call this a “correction” is to look away from the deeper rot. For students, educators, and communities, it is a crisis—one that demands urgent structural reform rather than market-based optimism.

Sources
National Association of Student Financial Aid Administrators (NASFAA). “The Biggest Barriers to Higher Education Enrollment Are Cost and Lack of Financial Aid.”
Inside Higher Ed. “Student Success Leaders Worry About Affordability, AI, and DEI.”
Brookings Institution. “Persistent Gaps in Academic Preparation Generate College Enrollment Disparities.”
Deloitte Insights. “Top Risks in Higher Education.”
Independent Institute. “Higher Education’s Triple Crisis.”
PEN America. “Tracking Campus Free Speech Legislation and Suppression.”
American Federation of Teachers / AAUP. “The Gig Academy: Precarity and the Exploitation of Adjunct Labor.”
The Century Foundation. Analyses of Online Program Management (OPM) and automated higher education risks.
Inside Higher Ed and Times Higher Education reporting on AI-driven cheating and academic integrity.

Thursday, December 4, 2025

Everyone is Cheating, Even the Professors (Jared Henderson)

There's a lot of talk about how AI is making cheating easier than ever, and most people want to find a way to stop it. But the problem goes much deeper than we typically assume. This video covers AI-assisted cheating (like with ChatGPT, Claude, etc.), the value of education (and Caplan's signaling theory), and the reason why professors and researchers commit fraud. 


Monday, December 1, 2025

Is the Federal Trade Commission FOIA program still in operation?

In light of recent developments at the Federal Trade Commission under the current administration — including staffing reductions and a temporary 2025 government shutdown — many observers and researchers are questioning whether the FTC’s Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) program is still functioning. The answer remains: yes — the FOIA program is still formally operational, but its capacity and responsiveness appear diminished under current conditions.

The FTC continues to administer FOIA through its Office of General Counsel (OGC), which processes all FOIA requests. As of the 2024 fiscal year, the FTC’s FOIA Unit comprised four attorneys, five government-information specialists, and one paralegal, with occasional support from contractors and other staff. In that year, the agency processed 1,919 requests (and 29 appeals), up from 1,812 in 2023. The agency’s publicly available “FOIA Handbook,” last updated in April 2025, continues to outline how requests should be submitted, what records are on the public record, and how exemptions are applied.

The FTC’s website still provides instructions for submitting a FOIA request via its online portal, email, fax, or mail. That means requests remain legally eligible — including those related to for-profit colleges, student loan servicers, institutional behavior, complaints, or decision-making memos.

However, HEI’s own experience in 2025 highlights some of the challenges with the FTC’s current FOIA responsiveness. In January 2025, we submitted a FOIA request asking for a record of complaints against the University of Phoenixbut have no record of a response. In August 2025 we did receive a substantive response related to complaints regarding a student loan company, but the number of complaints appeared lower than we expected. On November 30, 2025, we received an automated response to our FOIA request about AidVantage, a student loan servicer and subsidiary of Maximus. While we did receive a reply, it reflected a stale message stating they would respond after the government reopened — even though the government had reopened on November 13.

These examples illustrate that while FOIA is formally operational, actual responsiveness has deteriorated. For years, HEI had a good relationship with the FTC, obtaining critical information for a number of investigations in a timely manner. It remains to be seen whether that reliability can be restored.

Compounding the issue are broader staffing and operational changes at the FTC. In testimony before Congress in May 2025, FTC Chair Andrew N. Ferguson reported that the agency began FY 2025 with about 1,315 personnel but had reduced to 1,221 full-time staff, with plans to potentially reduce further to around 1,100 — the lowest level in a decade. These staffing reductions coincide with scaled-back discretionary activities, such as rulemaking, public guidance publishing, and outreach. During the October 2025 lapse in government funding, the FTC announced that FOIA requests could still be submitted but would not be processed until appropriations resumed.

For researchers, journalists, and advocates — including those pursuing records related to for-profit colleges, student loan servicers, regulatory decisions, or historical investigations — FOIA remains a legally viable tool. The path is open, though response times are slower, staff resources are constrained, and releases may be more limited, especially for sensitive or exempt material.

Sources

Congressional budget testimony on FTC staffing and budget: https://www.congress.gov/119/meeting/house/118225/witnesses/HHRG-119-AP23-Wstate-FergusonA-20250515.pdf

FTC FOIA Handbook (April 2025): https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/FOIA-Handbook-April-2025.pdf

FTC 2024 Chief FOIA Officer Report (staffing, request volume): https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/chief-foia-officer-report-fy2024.pdf

FTC website instructions for submitting FOIA requests: https://www.ftc.gov/foia/make-foia-request

FTC 2025 shutdown plan showing FOIA processing paused during funding lapse: https://www.ftc.gov/ftc-is-closed

Reporting on FTC removal of business-guidance blogs in 2025: https://www.wired.com/story/federal-trade-commission-removed-blogs-critical-of-ai-amazon-microsoft/

Monday, November 24, 2025

College Graduates Now Make Up a Record 25% of the Unemployed in the United States

Americans with four-year college degrees now represent a record share of total U.S. unemployment, signaling a sharp slowdown in white-collar hiring and a worsening job market for recent graduates.

According to newly released data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the unemployment rate for adults aged 25 and older with at least a bachelor’s degree rose to 2.8% in September 2025, up 0.5 percentage points from the previous year. No other educational attainment group saw a comparable increase during the same period.

In total, more than 1.9 million college-educated Americans were unemployed in September. This marks the first time since the BLS began tracking the metric in 1992 that college graduates have comprised 25% of the nation’s unemployed workers—a historically high proportion that reflects both slowing hiring and a nationwide glut of degree holders competing for fewer professional roles.

Economists warn that the trend is linked to deeper structural shifts in the U.S. labor market. Michael Feroli, chief U.S. economist at JPMorgan Chase & Co., said the surge “should further fuel AI-related job loss fears,” pointing to automation’s accelerating impact on administrative, professional, and entry-level analytical positions.

Federal Reserve Bank of New York President John Williams, speaking in Santiago, Chile, described the current cohort of graduates as facing “a bit of a perfect storm.” In a typical labor cycle, he noted, new graduates “are being swept into the labor market as they get out of college,” but that pattern has broken down this year.

The data also coincide with a wave of high-profile layoff announcements from major corporations—including Amazon, Target, and Starbucks—which have trimmed thousands of jobs across corporate, tech, and retail-management roles.

Before 2025, the share of unemployed workers with at least a bachelor’s degree had never reached this level, underscoring the challenges facing a generation encouraged to pursue higher education as the safest path to economic stability. The new numbers suggest that, for many, the labor market reality is falling far short of that promise.


Sources

U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics
Bloomberg News reporting on September 2025 unemployment data
Remarks by Michael Feroli, JPMorgan Chase & Co.
Remarks by John Williams, President, Federal Reserve Bank of New York
Corporate layoff announcements from Amazon, Target, and Starbucks

Sunday, November 23, 2025

The Link Between Greed and Efficiency

In the mythology of American capitalism, “efficiency” is the magic word that justifies austerity for workers, rising tuition for students, and ever-expanding wealth for administrators, financiers, and institutional elites. It is framed as neutral, technocratic, and rational. In reality, efficiency in higher education has become inseparable from greed, functioning as a mask for extraction and consolidation.

Universities and their sprawling medical centers have become some of the largest landowners and employers in the cities they inhabit. As Devarian Baldwin has shown, these institutions operate as urban empires, expanding aggressively into surrounding neighborhoods, raising housing costs, displacing long-time residents, and reshaping cities to suit institutional priorities. University medical centers, nominally nonprofit, consolidate smaller hospitals, close services deemed unprofitable, and charge some of the highest healthcare prices in the nation. These operations are justified as efficiency or economic development, yet they often destabilize the communities they claim to serve.

Endowments, some exceeding fifty billion dollars at elite institutions, have become central to this dynamic. Managed like hedge funds, these pools of capital are heavily invested in private equity, venture capital, real estate, and derivatives. The financial logic of endowment management now shapes university priorities, shifting focus from public service and learning to capital accumulation, investor returns, and risk management. Efficiency is defined not by educational outcomes but by the growth of financial assets.

This culture of extraction has been amplified by decades of government austerity. Public funding for higher education has steadily declined since the 1980s, forcing institutions to behave like corporations. At the same time, the aging Baby Boomer generation is creating unprecedented financial pressures on Social Security, Medicare, and healthcare systems, leaving public coffers stretched thin and reinforcing a winner-take-all national mentality. In this environment, universities compete fiercely for students, research dollars, donors, and prestige, producing conditions ripe for exploitation.

Outsourcing has become a standard method to achieve “efficiency.” Universities frequently contract out food service, custodial work, IT, housing management, and security. Workers employed by these contractors often face lower wages, fewer benefits, and higher turnover, while administrators present these arrangements as cost-saving measures. Meanwhile, administrative layers within institutions continue to expand, creating a managerial class that oversees growth and strategy while teaching budgets shrink. As Marc Bousquet has argued, the corporate-style management model displaces faculty governance and treats students and staff as revenue streams rather than participants in a shared educational mission.

The adjunctification of the faculty exemplifies efficiency as exploitation. Contingent instructors now teach the majority of classes in American higher education, earning poverty-level wages without benefits while juggling multiple teaching sites. Institutions call this “flexibility” and “cost containment,” but in reality it transfers value from instruction to administrative overhead, athletics, real estate, and financial operations, all while reducing the quality of education and undermining academic continuity.

The rise of Online Program Managers, or OPMs, further illustrates the fusion of greed and efficiency. These companies design, manage, and market entire online degree programs, often taking forty to seventy percent of tuition revenue. While presented as efficiency partners, OPMs aggressively recruit students, inflate costs, and minimize academic oversight. Their business model mirrors the exploitative strategies of for-profit colleges, which pioneered high-cost, low-quality instruction combined with heavy marketing to capture federal loan dollars. The collapse of chains such as Corinthian, ITT, and EDMC left millions of borrowers with debt and no degree, yet the model persists inside nonprofit universities through OPMs and algorithm-driven online programs.

“Robocolleges” represent the latest evolution of this trend. AI-driven instruction, predictive analytics, automated grading, and digital tutoring promise unprecedented efficiency, but they often replace human educators, reduce pedagogical oversight, exploit student data, and prioritize enrollment growth over educational quality. Efficiency here serves the financial bottom line rather than the learning or well-being of students.

The result of these extractive practices is a national crisis of student debt, now exceeding one trillion dollars. Students borrow to cover skyrocketing tuition, outsourced services, underpaid instruction, and the costs of programs shaped by OPMs or automated platforms. Debt is not an accident of the system; it is the intended outcome, a mechanism for transferring public resources and student labor into private profit.

The broader social context intensifies the problem. Higher education exists in a winner-take-all, financialized society, where resources flow upward and the majority of people are told to compete harder, work longer, and borrow more. Universities have internalized this ideology, acting as both symbols and engines of extraction. Efficiency, under this paradigm, is defined not by the effectiveness of teaching or research but by the expansion of institutional power, wealth, and influence.

True efficiency would look very different. It would invest in educators rather than contractors, stabilize academic labor rather than exploit it, serve surrounding communities rather than displace them, expand learning opportunities rather than debt, and prioritize democratic governance over corporate-style hierarchy. Efficiency should measure how well institutions serve the public good, not how well they protect endowment returns, OPM profits, or administrative salaries.

Until such a redefinition occurs, efficiency will remain one of the most powerful tools of extraction in American higher education, a rhetorical justification for greed disguised as rational management.


Sources

Devarian Baldwin, In the Shadow of the Ivory Tower
Marc Bousquet, How the University Works
Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed
Christopher Newfield, The Great Mistake
Sara Goldrick-Rab, Paying the Price
Government reports on for-profit colleges, student debt, and OPMs
Research on higher education financialization, outsourcing, and austerity policies

Friday, November 14, 2025

Generation Z and the Fractured American Dream: Class Divide, Debt, and the Search for a Future

For Generation Z, the old story of social mobility—study hard, go to college, work your way up—has lost its certainty. The class divide that once seemed bridgeable through education now feels entrenched, as debt, precarious work, and economic volatility blur the promise of progress.

The new economy—dominated by artificial intelligence, speculative assets like cryptocurrency, and inflated housing markets—has not delivered stability for most. Instead, it’s widened gaps between those who own and those who owe. Many young Americans feel locked out of wealth-building entirely. Some have turned to riskier bets—digital assets, gig work, or start-ups powered by AI tools—to chase opportunities that traditional institutions no longer provide. Others have succumbed to despair. Suicide rates among young adults have climbed sharply in recent years, correlating with financial stress, debt, and social isolation.

And echoing through this uncertain landscape is a song that first rose from the coalfields of Kentucky during the Great Depression—Florence Reece’s 1931 protest hymn, “Which Side Are You On?”

Come all you good workers,
Good news to you I’ll tell,
Of how the good old union
Has come in here to dwell.

Which side are you on?
Which side are you on?

Nearly a century later, those verses feel newly urgent—because Gen Z is again being forced to pick a side: between solidarity and survival, between reforming a broken system or resigning themselves to it.


The Class Divide and the Broken Ladder
Despite record levels of education, Gen Z faces limited social mobility. College remains a class marker, not an equalizer. Students from affluent families attend better-funded universities, graduate on time, and often receive help with housing or job placement. Working-class and first-generation students, meanwhile, navigate under-resourced campuses, heavier debt, and weaker professional networks.

The Pew Research Center found that first-generation college graduates have nearly $100,000 less in median wealth than peers whose parents also hold degrees. For many, the degree no longer guarantees a secure foothold in the middle class—it simply delays financial independence.

They say in Harlan County,
There are no neutrals there,
You’ll either be a union man,
Or a thug for J. H. Blair.

The metaphor still fits: there are no neutrals in the modern class struggle over debt, housing, and automation.


Debt, Doubt, and the New Normal
Gen Z borrowers owe an average of around $23,000 in student loans, a figure growing faster than any other generation’s debt load. Over half regret taking on those loans. Many delay buying homes, having children, or even seeking medical care. Those who drop out without degrees are burdened with debt and little to show for it.

The debt-based model has become a defining feature of American life—especially for the working class. The price of entry to a better future is borrowing against one’s own.

Don’t scab for the bosses,
Don’t listen to their lies,
Us poor folks haven’t got a chance
Unless we organize.

If Reece’s song once called miners to unionize against coal barons, its spirit now calls borrowers, renters, adjuncts, and gig workers to collective resistance against financial systems that profit from their precarity.


AI and the Erosion of Work
Artificial intelligence promises efficiency, but it also threatens to hollow out the entry-level job market Gen Z depends on. Automation in journalism, design, law, and customer service cuts off rungs of the career ladder just as young workers reach for them.

While elite graduates may move into roles that supervise or profit from AI, working-class Gen Zers are more likely to face displacement. AI amplifies the class divide: it rewards those who already have capital, coding skills, or connections—and sidelines those who don’t.


Crypto Dreams and Financial Desperation
Locked out of traditional wealth paths, many young people turned to cryptocurrency during the pandemic. Platforms like Robinhood and Coinbase promised quick gains and independence from the “rigged” economy. But when crypto markets crashed in 2022, billions in speculative wealth evaporated. Some who had borrowed or used student loan refunds to invest lost everything.

Online forums chronicled not only the financial losses but also the psychological fallout—stories of panic, shame, and in some tragic cases, suicide. The new “digital gold rush” became another mechanism for transferring wealth upward.


The Real Estate Wall
While digital markets rise and fall, real estate remains the ultimate symbol of exclusion. Home prices have climbed over 40 percent since 2020, while mortgage rates hover near 8 percent. For most of Gen Z, ownership is out of reach.

Older generations built equity through housing; Gen Z rents indefinitely, enriching landlords and institutional investors. Without intergenerational help, the “starter home” has become a myth. In America’s new class order, those who inherit property inherit mobility.


Despair and the Silent Crisis
Behind the data lies a mental health emergency. The CDC reports that suicide among Americans aged 10–24 has risen nearly 60 percent in the past decade. Economic precarity, debt, housing insecurity, and climate anxiety all contribute.

Therapists describe “financial trauma” as a defining condition for Gen Z—chronic anxiety rooted in systemic instability. Universities respond with mindfulness workshops, but few confront the deeper issue: a society that privatized risk and monetized hope.

They say in Harlan County,
There are no neutrals there—
Which side are you on, my people,
Which side are you on?

The question lingers like a challenge to policymakers, educators, and investors alike.


A Two-Tier Future
Today’s economy is splitting into two distinct realities:

  • The secure class, buffered by family wealth, education, AI-driven income, and real estate assets.

  • The precarious class, burdened by loans, high rents, unstable work, and psychological strain.

The supposed democratization of opportunity through technology and education has in practice entrenched a new feudalism—one coded in algorithms and contracts instead of coal and steel.


Repairing the System, Not the Student
For Generation Z, the American Dream has become a high-interest loan. Education, technology, and financial innovation—once tools of liberation—now function as instruments of control.

Reforming higher education is necessary, but not sufficient. The deeper work lies in redistributing power: capping predatory interest rates, investing in affordable housing, curbing speculative bubbles, ensuring that AI’s gains benefit labor as well as capital, and confronting the mental health crisis that shadows all of it.

Florence Reece’s song endures because its question has never been answered—only updated. As Gen Z stands at the intersection of debt and digital capitalism, that question rings louder than ever:

Which side are you on?


Sources

  • Florence Reece, “Which Side Are You On?” (1931).

  • Pew Research Center, “First-Generation College Graduates Lag Behind Their Peers on Key Economic Outcomes,” 2021.

  • Dēmos, The Debt Divide: How Student Debt Impacts Opportunities for Black and White Borrowers, 2016.

  • EducationData.org, “Student Loan Debt by Generation,” 2024.

  • Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis, Gen Z Student Debt and Wealth Data Brief, 2022.

  • CNBC, “Gen Z vs. Their Parents: How the Generations Stack Up Financially,” 2024.

  • WUSF, “Generation Z’s Net Worth Is Being Undercut by College Debt,” 2024.

  • Newsweek, “Student Loan Update: Gen Z Hit with Highest Payments,” 2024.

  • The Kaplan Group, “How Student Debt Is Locking Millennials and Gen Z Out of Homeownership,” 2024.

  • CDC, Suicide Mortality in the United States, 2001–2022, National Center for Health Statistics, 2023.

  • Brookings Institution, “The Impact of AI on Labor Markets: Inequality and Automation,” 2024.

  • CNBC, “Crypto Crash Wipes Out Billions in Investor Wealth, Gen Z Most Exposed,” 2023.

  • Zillow, “U.S. Housing Affordability Reaches Lowest Point Since 1989,” 2024.

Thursday, November 13, 2025

The College Meltdown Index: Profiting from the Wreckage of American Higher Education


“Education, once defended as a public good, now functions as a vehicle for private gain.”


From Collapse to Contagion

The College Meltdown never truly ended—it evolved.

After a decade of spectacular for-profit implosions, the higher education sector has reconstituted itself around new instruments of profit: debt servicing, edtech speculation, and corporate “partnerships” that disguise privatization as innovation.

The College Meltdown Index—tracking a mix of education providers, servicers, and learning platforms—reveals a sector in quiet decay.

Legacy for-profits like National American University (NAUH) and Aspen Group (ASPU) trade at penny-stock levels, while Lincoln Educational (LINC) and Perdoceo (PRDO) stumble through cost-cutting cycles.

Even the supposed disruptors—Chegg (CHGG), Udemy (UDMY), and Coursera (COUR)—are faltering as user growth plateaus and AI reshapes their value proposition.

Meanwhile, SoFi (SOFI), Sallie Mae (SLM), and Maximus (MMS) thrive—not through learning, but through the management of debt.


The Meltdown Graveyard

Below lies a sampling of the education sector’s ghost tickers—the silent casualties of a system that turned public trust into private loss.

SymbolInstitutionStatusApprox. Closure/Delisting
CLAS.UClass TechnologiesDefunct2024
INSTInstructure (pre-acquisition)Acquired by Thoma Bravo2020
TWOUQ2U, Inc.Bankrupt2025
CPLACapella UniversityMerged with Strayer (Strategic Ed.)2018
ESI-OLDITT Technical InstituteDefunct2016
EDMCEducation Management CorporationDefunct2018
COCO-OLDCorinthian CollegesDefunct2015
APOLApollo Education Group (U. of Phoenix)Taken Private2017

Each ticker represents not only a failed business model—but a generation of indebted students.


The Phoenix That Shouldn’t Have Risen

No institution better symbolizes this moral decay than the University of Phoenix and Phoenix Education Partners (PXED).

At its height, Phoenix enrolled nearly half a million students. By 2017, following federal investigations and mass defaults, Apollo Education Group—its parent company—collapsed under scrutiny.

But rather than disappearing, Phoenix was quietly resurrected through a private equity buyout led by Apollo Global Management, Vistria Group, and Najafi Companies.

Freed from public oversight, the university continued to enroll vulnerable adult learners, harvesting federal aid while shedding accountability.

In 2023, the University of Idaho’s proposed acquisition of Phoenix provoked national outrage, forcing state officials to confront a basic question: Should a public university absorb a for-profit brand built on exploitation?

The deal collapsed—but the temptation to monetize Phoenix’s infrastructure remains. In 2025, a small portion became publicly traded.  Its call centers and online systems remain models of enrollment efficiency, designed to extract just enough engagement to secure tuition payments.


From Education to Extraction

The sector’s transformation reveals a deeper moral hazard.

If students succeed, investors profit.
If students fail, federal subsidies and servicer contracts ensure the money keeps flowing.

Executives face no downside. Shareholders are protected. The losses fall on students and taxpayers.

In this sense, the “meltdown” is not a market failure—it’s a market design.

“The winners are those who most efficiently extract value from hope.”

Public universities increasingly partner with private Online Program Managers (OPMs), leasing their brands to companies that control marketing, pricing, and student data. The once-clear line between public and for-profit education has blurred beyond recognition.


The Quiet Winners of Collapse

A few companies continue to prosper by aligning with “practical” or “mission-safe” sectors:

  • Adtalem (ATGE) in nursing and health education,

  • Grand Canyon Education (LOPE) in faith-branded online degrees,

  • Bright Horizons (BFAM) in corporate childcare and workforce training.

Yet all remain heavily dependent on public dollars and tax incentives. The state subsidizes their existence; the market collects the rewards.

Meanwhile, 2U’s bankruptcy leaves elite universities scrambling to explain how a publicly traded OPM, once championed as the future of online learning, could disintegrate overnight—taking with it a network of high-priced “nonprofit” certificate programs.


A Reckoning Deferred

The College Meltdown Index exposes a system that has internalized its own failures.
Fraud has been replaced by financial engineering, transparency by outsourcing, and accountability by spin.

The real collapse is not in the market—but in moral logic. Education, once the cornerstone of social mobility, has become a speculative instrument traded between hedge funds and holding companies.

Until policymakers—and universities themselves—confront the ethics of profit in higher education, the meltdown will persist, slowly consuming what remains of the public good.


“The real question is not whether the system will collapse, but who will rebuild it—and for whom.”


Sources:

  • Higher Education Inquirer, College Meltdown 2.0 Index (Nov. 2025)

  • SEC Filings (2010–2025)

  • U.S. Department of Education, Heightened Cash Monitoring Reports

  • An American Sickness – Elisabeth Rosenthal

  • The Goosestep – Upton Sinclair

  • Medical Apartheid – Harriet A. Washington

  • Body and Soul – Alondra Nelson

  • The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks – Rebecca Skloot