Trump Sends West Virginia National Guard to D.C. Without Consulting Mayor Bowser

President Donald Trump has doubled down on his federal intervention in Washington, D.C., calling in reinforcements from West Virginia’s National Guard. The decision, announced August 16, marks an intensification of Trump’s so-called “Making D.C. Safe and Beautiful” campaign, a project already criticized for its political theater and disregard for local autonomy.

The deployment—300 to 400 West Virginia Guard troops—comes just days after Trump invoked Section 740 of the Home Rule Act to seize temporary control of the District’s police. This was the first time any president has used that provision. Combined with D.C.’s own Guard, the new arrivals bring the total number of federally-controlled troops patrolling the capital to more than 800.

The move was made without the consent of D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser, who has called the intervention “unsettling and unprecedented.” Attorney General Brian Schwalb has already filed suit to block Trump’s attempt to install a federally appointed “emergency police commissioner.” Both argue the administration has violated the spirit, if not the letter, of Home Rule.

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A Manufactured Emergency—And a Convenient Distraction

The federal escalation follows the sensationalized “Big Balls” assault—an incident Trump quickly used to justify invoking sweeping emergency powers. As Higher Education Inquirer previously reported, Trump has leaned heavily on this case to stir fear and project strength, despite the fact that violent crime in D.C. is currently at a 30-year low.

But there’s another layer: the timing. Trump’s deployment of out-of-state Guard troops comes as media scrutiny of the Epstein case intensifies, including renewed focus on how elite institutions enabled and benefited from Epstein’s money. Harvard, MIT, and other universities took his donations, gave him influence, and in some cases provided a veneer of legitimacy to a man whose connections to Trump and other powerful figures remain politically toxic.

The “crime emergency” narrative serves not only as a pretext for overriding D.C.’s fragile autonomy—it also provides the administration with a diversionary spectacle, drowning out scandals that link Trump to Epstein and, by extension, to the culture of impunity within higher education and elite philanthropy.

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Projection of Strength at Home, Weakness Abroad

Trump’s militarized display in the capital also serves as a contrast to his failure with Vladimir Putin over Alaska’s northern shipping lanes. As climate change opens new Arctic passages, Russia has aggressively asserted control. Trump’s administration has made bold promises to defend U.S. interests, but negotiations with Putin have yielded little. Instead, Russia continues to expand its military and commercial footprint while the U.S. presence stagnates.

Unable to project strength against Putin in the Arctic, Trump has turned to the symbolic occupation of Washington, D.C., where he can choreograph troops and police on American streets. It is authoritarian theater at home to mask diplomatic impotence abroad.

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State Militias in the Capital

West Virginia Governor Patrick Morrisey framed the troop deployment as an act of patriotism, fulfilling a request from the Trump White House. But for many in D.C., the symbolism is chilling: a president calling on a neighboring state’s militia to police residents of a city that already lacks voting representation in Congress.

This arrangement underscores the fragility of D.C.’s democratic status. Residents now face not just local disenfranchisement, but the visible presence of outsiders in military fatigues patrolling their neighborhoods—all while national attention is steered away from elite corruption and foreign policy failure.

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The Bigger Picture

Trump’s willingness to override the District’s autonomy fits neatly into a broader pattern of authoritarian spectacle. The militarized presence on D.C.’s streets may reassure his supporters, but it raises grave questions about precedent. If a president can federalize a city’s police and import out-of-state Guard troops in a moment of historically low crime, what is to stop him from doing so elsewhere?

And just as important: how many of these “emergencies” are staged diversions to shield him from accountability—not only for his political record, but for his ties to Epstein and his inability to stand up to Putin in Alaska?

For HEI, this story is not just about Washington. It is about how crisis politics and higher education’s complicity in elite networks of power intersect to protect the wealthy and connected, while ordinary citizens and students are left with militarized streets, unpayable debts, and shrinking democratic rights.

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Sources

• Reuters: West Virginia governor to deploy National Guard troops to U.S. capital

• Politico: West Virginia deploys hundreds of National Guard troops to Washington

• Washington Post: D.C. to see more federal troops as Trump pushes to extend emergency

• Time: White House backs off ‘hostile takeover’ of D.C. police after lawsuit

• HEI: Trump Exploits the ‘Big Balls’ Assault

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

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

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

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

Climate denial collides with national security

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

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

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

The costs of disinvestment

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

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

Why this matters beyond Alaska

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

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

A pragmatic way forward

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

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

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

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

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

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Sources

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• Empower Alaska: UA Arctic expertise overview.

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

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

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

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

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

The Hidden Crisis: Debt and Inequality Among Ph.D. Graduates

For decades, a Ph.D. has been viewed as the pinnacle of academic achievement. Yet behind the prestige lies a growing financial burden that disproportionately affects students in the humanities, education, social sciences, and health-related fields. As the cost of higher education continues to rise and funding disparities persist across disciplines, many doctoral graduates are finding themselves saddled with unsustainable levels of debt—and limited job prospects to match.

Data from the Survey of Earned Doctorates (SED), administered by the National Science Foundation, shows that new Ph.D. recipients in the humanities and arts are among the most likely to graduate with high levels of education-related debt. In 2020, 18% of these graduates reported more than $50,000 in debt, compared to under 5% of engineering and physical sciences Ph.D.’s. Nearly 90% of engineering, math, and physical sciences graduates completed their programs with less than $10,000 in debt. This level of disparity reflects long-standing inequities in how doctoral education is funded.

Yet the humanities are not alone. Several other doctoral fields show similar or worse financial patterns, often with little public attention.

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Education Ph.D.’s: High Ideals, Heavier Debt

One of the most indebted groups in graduate education is those earning Ph.D.’s in education. In 2020, just 47% of education doctoral graduates left without any graduate education debt—down from 62% in 2004. Despite being among the lowest-paid doctoral degree holders, education Ph.D.’s are expected to take on leadership roles in schools, districts, or universities—many of which are increasingly reliant on part-time labor or austerity budgets. The mismatch between debt incurred and income potential is among the worst in higher education.

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Psychology and Behavioral Sciences: A Pipeline to Precarity

Students pursuing doctorates in psychology and related behavioral sciences also face rising debt, especially in clinical and counseling specializations that require unpaid or underpaid internships and practicum hours. While 63% of new graduates in this area reported less than $10,000 in debt in 2020, a significant minority fell into the $30,000 to $90,000+ range. The financial burden is compounded by licensing requirements and low reimbursement rates in mental health professions. Many psychologists work in strained public systems, often serving low-income and vulnerable populations.

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Health-Related Doctorates: Not All Medical Degrees Pay Off

Professional doctorates in healthcare—such as the Doctor of Physical Therapy (DPT), Doctor of Nursing Practice (DNP), and Doctor of Pharmacy (PharmD)—are often marketed as high-demand credentials. Yet they carry massive tuition bills and limited institutional funding, especially compared to MD or Ph.D. programs. Graduates in these areas routinely report $100,000 to $150,000 in debt, with some exceeding $200,000. And as new programs proliferate—especially at private and for-profit institutions—the job market has become increasingly saturated, particularly for pharmacists and physical therapists.

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Social Work and Public Service: Debt-Fueled Altruism

Doctoral degrees in social work and public administration are frequently pursued by those seeking to lead in nonprofits, public agencies, or higher education. But the returns are modest. Many social work Ph.D.’s and DSWs leave school with $50,000 to $100,000 or more in debt. Jobs are often emotionally demanding, poorly compensated, and subject to burnout. Despite the “practical” nature of these degrees, financial insecurity remains a constant for many graduates.

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Race, Debt, and Structural Inequity

Debt burdens also mirror longstanding racial and economic inequalities in higher education. Between 2015 and 2020, 55% of American Indian/Alaska Native and Black/African American humanities and arts Ph.D.’s graduated with more than $30,000 in debt—far higher than the average for other racial and ethnic groups. Indigenous students in particular face disproportionate debt levels relative to their representation and institutional support. These figures reflect a broader pattern of exclusion, where marginalized communities pay more to gain access to degrees that offer fewer economic returns.

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The Polarization of Graduate Debt

Across nearly all disciplines, the period from 2015 to 2020 saw a shift in the distribution of graduate debt toward the extremes: more students finished either with no debt or with very high debt. For humanities and arts Ph.D.’s, the share of debt-free graduates rose by 8 percentage points. But at the same time, the share with over $90,000 in debt also increased, pointing to a bifurcated system where some students are fully funded while others are left financially exposed.

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An Unequal System of Doctoral Education

The disparities in debt and job prospects among Ph.D. fields reveal deep problems in the political economy of U.S. graduate education:

• STEM fields benefit from federal research funding and industry partnerships that help subsidize tuition and provide stipends.

• Humanities, education, and social work programs rely heavily on student loans and tuition revenue, often at under-resourced public institutions.

• Women and students of color are disproportionately represented in fields with high debt and low pay, reinforcing broader patterns of inequality.

Despite these challenges, universities continue to market Ph.D. programs as tickets to professional success and personal fulfillment—ignoring the growing body of evidence that for many, the costs may outweigh the benefits.

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A Call for Structural Reform

The growing debt crisis among Ph.D. graduates in non-STEM fields reflects more than just poor financial planning—it reveals a system in which certain kinds of knowledge and service are undervalued. As policymakers and institutions consider the future of graduate education, they must confront the realities of underfunding, labor precarity, and racial inequality that have become embedded in the Ph.D. pipeline.

Without meaningful reform—including equitable funding, debt relief, and transparent job placement data—the doctorate risks becoming a credential for the privileged and a trap for the rest.

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Sources

• Survey of Earned Doctorates (SED), National Center for Science and Engineering Statistics

• Humanities Indicators, American Academy of Arts & Sciences

• American Psychological Association (APA)

• American Association of Colleges of Nursing (AACN)

• American Physical Therapy Association (APTA)

• National Center for Education Statistics (NCES)

• Andrew W. Mellon Foundation

• National Endowment for the Humanities

Higher Education in Retreat (Gary Roth)

 [Editor's note: This article first appeared in the Brooklyn Rail.  We thank the Brooklyn Rail for allowing us to repost this.]

For decades, the top-tier colleges and universities—often represented by Harvard, Yale, and Princeton, but including a few dozen other private and public institutions as well—have reshaped themselves to accommodate the rapidly-changing demographic profile of the United States.1 From all appearances, the universities were also in harmony with the sensibilities and preferences of the country’s leading citizens. Key moments, like the sanctioning of gay marriage that found support from wide-spread sectors of the upper class, seemed to solidify the drift towards a diverse and tolerant social order, one that resonated not only domestically but internationally as well.

The future evolution of civil society was, in this way of thinking, firmly and finally in hand. Bitter acrimony might characterize the political world or single-issue items like abortion, but actual developments outweighed the leftover pockets of resistance, which in any case were thought to be localized in less significant parts of the country and the world and could at best only slow the inevitable. How hard people pushed for change would ultimately determine the future.

This somnambulistic mode of thought pervaded the university world and also wide swaths of the liberal public. It helps explain the ease with which parts of the university community, after an initial round of caution, joined hands with its political opposition to suppress the campus protests that developed in response to Israel’s brutality towards Palestinian civilians.

Appeasement and accommodation, while regrettable within the academic community because of the retreat from sacrosanct ideas such as freedom of speech and freedom of assembly, nonetheless set the stage for developments that followed the national elections at the end of last year. Martin Niemöller’s self-confession about his support—as a Lutheran pastor—for the German fascists during the 1930s captures nicely the corner into which the higher education community had boxed itself:

When the Nazis came for the Communists, I kept quiet; I wasn’t a communist.
When they came for the trade unionists, I kept quiet; I wasn’t a trade unionist.
When they jailed the Social Democrats, I kept quiet; I wasn’t a social democrat.
When they jailed the Jews, I kept quiet; I wasn’t a Jew.
When they came for me, there was no one left who could protest.2

Without a vibrant protest movement already in place to push against harsh and arbitrary actions, the universities seemed to have little choice but to acquiesce to a regime that seems interested in flattening the population into an undifferentiated mass.3

Because appeasement and accommodation have been embraced as proactive survival tactics, resistance has centered on a judicial system thought to be less conservative than the groups that have come to dominate the executive and legislative branches of government, a judiciary conceptualized as a mediator rather than an initiator and enforcer of social conflict. Given the legal system’s history, this too becomes another moment of sleep walking. It is a huge distance from the dynamism that characterized the world of higher education not long ago.

Among the most dynamic institutions have been the privately-governed universities like Harvard, Yale, and Princeton. Not just their social vision, but their great wealth allowed them to embrace initiatives that stand at the forefront of attempts to remold institutional behavior. Front and center have been efforts to diversify the upper ranks of corporate, governmental, and non-profit establishments such that they too reflect the diversity of the population at large.

Previous attempts to diversify the collegiate student body by means of affirmative action programs that focused on underrepresented groups, especially African Americans and Latines, were struck down by the judiciary. Anti-affirmative action backlash took aim at the admissions policies at highly-competitive graduate programs, such as elite law and medical schools, and on prestigious scholarship programs. The backlash, in other words, concentrated on the byways that provided access into the upper levels of society.

Schools and programs that served the remainder of the population were not of particular concern. Graduate programs in public administration, for instance, where the training of mid-level administrators is the aim, rarely came under attack, whether located at medium-sized liberal arts colleges or regional state universities. These types of institutions also suspended their affirmative action initiatives, but mostly as preemptive moves to avoid future litigation. By strategically targeting the institutions at the top, the entire system was enticed to reorient itself.

Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives were one of the responses to both past and recent judicial rollbacks. These were initiatives directed toward the recruitment and retention of underrepresented groups rather than their admission and funding. DEI initiatives, though, did not deal with the cost of attendance, which at the elite private institutions is beyond everyone’s means except for the wealthy. For tuition, room, and board to attend as an undergraduate, the current cost for the 2025–26 school year at Princeton, for example, is $82,650. Fees are extra.4

Financial incentives based on socioeconomic status, however, were a strategy that seemingly silenced all critics. The most generous programs encompass virtually all applicants from either a working or middle class background; that is, everyone except the elite is covered as long as household or parental income is below $200,000 annually. At Princeton, the limit is $100,000, pegged considerably above the level of median household income in the United States.5

This allows the institutions to be “needs-blind” and recruit students no matter their financial situation. A tuition-free college education—once a hallmark of publicly-funded institutions—has been revived at the upper end of the spectrum, a profound assertion by these institutions of their intent to further the socioeconomic, racial, and ethnic integration of the upper class.

One consequence of these cost-free programs is that it is often cheaper to attend an elite college like Princeton than to attend the nearby publicly-funded state university, the flagship institution—in this case, Rutgers University-New Brunswick. These figures are drawn from government calculations that show actual expenses for families at different tiers of the socioeconomic spectrum:6

CHART 1 – ANNUAL UNDERGRADUATE NET COST OF ATTENDANCE

Family income	PRINCETON	RUTGERS-NEW BRUNSWICK
Less than $ 30,000	$  2,518	$15,885
$30,001 - $ 48,000	$  4,682	$15,532
$48,001 - $ 75,000	$  7,652	$17,578
$75,001 - $110,000	$13,849	$24,020
Over $110,001	$39,943	$33,460

 

A significant reversal has taken place. The elite privates have become the exemplars for the entire system of higher education, not just academically but economically as well. It makes economic sense for the poor to attend elite private institutions (assuming they are offered one of the few open slots) and for the rich to attend publicly-funded ones. Because student loans are not part of these aid packages, students at elite colleges graduate with less debt than students at nearby public flagships.7

We find, then, that the more selective the college—Princeton admits five percent of applicants, Rutgers-New Brunswick sixty-five percent—the cheaper it is to attend, and the more likely you are to graduate—at Princeton ninety-eight percent, at Rutgers-New Brunswick eighty-four percent—the less that debt encumbers you afterwards. And what’s true about the comparison of Princeton and its nearby publicly-funded flagship is true in other states also: Harvard and University of Massachusetts in Amherst, Yale and the University of Connecticut at Storrs, and so on.

Just as important, student socioeconomic profiles parallel those at nearby public flagships. At Princeton, one in five (twenty percent) of its students receives a Pell Grant. These are the federally-funded grants awarded when family income is below, roughly, $50,000. Pell Grants thus serve as a reasonable measure of the density of students from working class and poor backgrounds at a particular institution. At Rutgers-New Brunswick, it is one in four students (28 percent).

Socioeconomic programs like the one at Princeton exist at more than a hundred public and privately-governed college institutions. Taken altogether, there has been a quiet undermining of commonly-accepted assumptions regarding elite institutions and their public counterparts. That the private elite institutions often outperform the public sector ones in matters traditionally considered the latter’s prerogative shows how deeply intertwined the private and public sectors have become.

Yet for all their efforts, the elite institutions still do not reflect the demographics of the population at large. This is true for the elite privates and also for public flagships. Nationally, thirty percent of students receive Pell Grants, a measure of the degree to which the working class has become a substantial part of the university community. At top-tier schools, however, fewer of their students receive Pell Grants. At Harvard, it is seventeen percent; at Yale, nineteen percent; at the Texas flagship, UT Austin, twenty-five percent; at the Florida flagship, UF Gainesville, twenty-three percent.8

That socioeconomic diversity is lower at elite privates and public flagships than is the national norm is not surprising, given the amply-documented correlation between parental finances and scholastic performance.9 Students from wealthier backgrounds, as a rule, perform better academically and are more likely to attend prestigious institutions. Still, the top-tier institutions have come a long way from the times in which they represented, with few exceptions: only the elite.

At places like Princeton, the student body is nearly as diverse racially and ethnically as at the nearby state flagship. According to the broad demographic categories used in government publications and legislation, we find that at both Princeton and Rutgers-New Brunswick, there are no majorities, only minorities:10

CHART 2 – RACE AND ETHNICITY AT TOP-TIER INSTITUTIONS

(in percents)	PRINCETON	RUTGERS-NEW BRUNSWICK
Asian	24	33
Black (African American)	9	7
Hispanic (Latine)	10	16
White	36	31
Non-Resident Alien (International Students)	12	7
Two or More Races (Multiracial)	7	4

 

Immigration and migration initially produced majority-less campuses at urban public institutions; in other words, at institutions located in major metropolitan areas—places where jobs are numerous and resistance to newcomers often diffuse and undirected. At Princeton and other elite institutions, however, it is not demographics, but merit—in combination with these economically-based financial aid packages—that drive the dynamic.

Forty-five years ago, individuals self-identified as white represented eighty-four percent of all undergraduates but only seventy-seven percent of eighteen to twenty-four year-olds (Chart 3). Higher education was a significant cultural dynamic for this group. A major reversal has since taken place, in which the white population now accounts for fifty-two percent of eighteen to twenty-four year-olds and the same percentage of college students. Their lead has been lost.

Every other group has moved in the opposite direction, increasing its presence within the collegiate system faster than their increase in either population or the prime college-attending age cohort (eighteen to twenty-four year-olds). The latter group has been relatively stable within the Black population, for instance, only increasing one percentage point from thirteen to fourteen percent during those decades. But the presence of Black students among undergraduate college students has increased from nine to thirteen percent. Among the Latine (Hispanic) population, the increase has been dramatic. While their share of eighteen to twenty-four year-olds tripled from eight to twenty-four percent, their share among undergraduates increased more than five-fold.

Affirmative action and DEI initiatives fostered the importance of a college education as a means to circumvent obstacles within the economy:11

CHART 3 – RACIAL & ETHNIC DIVERSITY

	18-24 YEAR-OLDS		HIGHER EDUCATION
(in percents)	1980	2022	1980	2022
Asian	2	6	2	8
Black	13	14	9	13
Hispanic	8	24	4	22
White	77	52	84	52
Two or More Races	—	4	—	4

 

Over the past half century, a leveling of the population has taken place, with the Black, Latine, and white communities all participating in post-secondary education at rates equivalent to their respective shares of the prime college-attending age group (eighteen to twenty-four year-olds).

This equalization is an aspect of reality that has been neglected by the academic community, which has generally focused on the advantages members of the white community have both educationally and occupationally due to kinship and parental networks, friendship circles, neighborhood contacts, and a lack of discrimination based on skin color. Implicit in this view is that whites need not rely on the educational system as heavily as other groups, since alternative avenues of advancement are available.

In many of the top institutions, the fall-off of white students is quite pronounced:

CHART 4 - DIVERSITY AT PRIVATE ELITES AND PUBLIC FLAGSHIPS

(in percents)	Higher Education	Harvard	Yale	Columbia	UPenn	UT Austin	UF Gainesville
Asian	8	22	23	18	28	25	12
Black	13	9	9	8	9	5	5
Hispanic	22	12	16	16	11	28	24
White	52	33	32	30	30	32	50
Non-Resident	—	14	11	18	12	4	2
Two/+ Races	4	7	7	6	5	4	5

 

During the decades in which affirmative action and DEI programs have attempted to bring some measure of equal access and equal achievement to educational endeavors, parts of the white community were drifting away. This blind-spot within the academic community’s understanding of social dynamics meant that concepts of relative disadvantage might have fit the situation just as well as ones of privilege and advantage.12

Increased funding in order to include whites in DEI initiatives is a possible solution, although a fundamental rethinking of inclusivity is also called for. Instead, the elimination of services and programs has become a mandate to ensure that no group will be helped to rise out of an undifferentiated mass. If government and higher education are taken out of the picture, social advancement, which always requires additional resources, then hinges solely on the wherewithal of individual families.

The university community, with its emphasis on inclusion and diversity, has represented a last outpost of a kind of thinking—of governmental spending and educational activism—that was once heralded under the label of Keynesianism and dates back to the immediate post-World War II period when everything seemed possible. Like the fate of the white population, society itself has gone through a long-winded period of evolution and transformation despite the tenacity of modes of thought initially generated in previous times.

Because colleges and universities depend so heavily on external funding for research grants and student loans, the political world has laid claim to its governance in ever-aggressive ways. The opening thrust has concentrated on the elite privates—Columbia, UPenn, Harvard, and Princeton among them. The integration of the two worlds of politics and education, in this sense, signals the remaking of higher education into a sphere of government in which the political world functions as its own type of board of directors. While the federal Department of Education is in the process of dissolution, the entire system of higher education is being reduced to the level of a federal department. This is part of an overall effort to curtail civil society and reign in its independence, in which scientists—initially those whose work concentrates on the environment or on global public health issues—have been a major focus.

Perhaps it is in this sense that we can understand the reluctance of university executives to confront directly what at first seemed to be scattershot criticisms aimed at various parts of their enterprises and why they did not push back harder at the assertion that criticism of Israeli policies is a form of antisemitism. It is not just that the higher education community was unprepared for the level and intensity of the criticisms, but that it was so highly vulnerable.

The top-tier institutions are the gonfaloniers of modern times, targets whose capture on the battlefield disorients the troops that follow their lead. To intimidate and diminish the top-tier institutions sends a message to the wider educational community about the punitive actions that non-compliance may bring. It effectively shifts the center of gravity throughout a major portion of society. In the conflict between the government and the educational community that depends on it, the latter can only lose, even if the degree to which it loses is still to be determined. The universities are a highly strategic and, as it turns out, easy target, ideologically and in terms of government expenses.

That the university community has also served as a base and breeding ground for liberal politics is still another reason for its subjugation.13 The overall result gestures in the direction of a shrunken and harshly repressed and repressive educational system that cowers to executive mandates because of the certainty that if not, legislative enactments will follow.14 Highly successful white males are the driving force behind all this. Their goal: a system that encourages no exceptions except for people who mimic themselves.

The world we have known is disappearing, an unraveling that would take considerable time to now reassemble. It is unclear whether and to what degree colleges and universities will remain as sanctuaries for the expression of ideas inconsonant with the political establishment. Perhaps some solace is to be found in this quip by Mother Jones, herself a fierce labor movement advocate at the turn of the nineteenth into the twentieth centuries. She was heard to say: “Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living.”

1. Between 1980 and 2022, the major changes were in the white population, which fell from 80 to 59 percent, while the Latine population increased dramatically from 7 to 19 percent. The Black population barely changed—from 12 to 13 percent, and the Asian population increased from 2 to 6 percent. National Center for Education Statistics, Digest of Education Statistics–Most Current Digest Tables, 2023, Tables 101.20.
2. Many versions of this poem exist. The version here is unabridged, translated from the original.
3. Alan Blinder, “Trump’s Battles With Colleges Could Change American Culture for a Generation.” The New York Times, March 20, 2025.
4. Cost & Aid | Princeton Admission.
5. Median annual income is just over $80,000 per year. These programs also take into account a family's wealth in property, business assets, etc., in complicated formulas that can mitigate qualifying on income alone. Stephanie Saul, “Harvard Will Make Tuition Free for More Students.” The New York Times, 17 March 2025; Peyton Beverford, Free Tuition for Low-Income Students | Appily. 21 March 2025; US Census Bureau, Income in the United States: 2023, 10 September 2024.
6. Unless indicated otherwise, all data is from the US Department of Education, College Scorecard, 23 April 2025. For each institution, see the various listings under: Costs, By Family Income; Financial Aid & Debt; Test Scores and Acceptance; Graduation & Retention; Typical Earnings; Campus Diversity.
7. At Princeton, the median debt for undergraduates when they finish their degrees is $10,320; at Rutgers-New Brunswick, it is $21,500.
8. Share of Federal Pell Grants recipients U.S. 2024 | Statista.
9. The situation a decade ago: “among ‘Ivy-Plus’ colleges (the eight Ivy League colleges, University of Chicago, Stanford, MIT, and Duke), more students come from families in the top 1% of the income distribution (14.5%) than the bottom half of the income distribution (13.5%).” Raj Chetty, John N. Friedman, Emmanuel Saez, Nicholas Turner, and Danny Yagan, “Mobility Report Cards: The Role of Colleges in Intergenerational Mobility,” National Bureau of Economic Research. https://www.nber.org/papers/w23618, July 2017, p. 1.
10. Not listed are: American Indian/Alaska Native, Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander, and Unknown. Numbers do not always equal 100 due to rounding or these absent categories.
11. National Center for Education Statistics, Digest of Education Statistics-Most Current Digest Tables, 2023, Tables 101.20, 306.10 (scroll down for the relevant data—based on 2022 totals, rounded up).
12. In the academic trilogy of race, class, and gender, many scholars sought a means to move the discussion of class from the theoretical, where it received extensive attention, to the concrete so that it could function similarly to the analyses of race and gender. Intersectionality has been one of the results, which nonetheless still leaves class undertheorized on a concrete level.
13. On voting patterns, see: Matt Grossmann and David A. Hopkins, Polarized Degrees: How the Diploma Divide and the Culture War Transformed American Politics. Cambridge University Press: 2024.
14. Isabelle Taft, “How Colleges Are Surveilling Students Now.” The New York Times, March 29, 2025.

Thanks to Jules David Bartkowski, Anne Lopes, and Paul Mattick for comments.

Gary Roth is the author of The Educated Underclass: Students and the Promise of Social Mobility (Pluto Press, 2019).