The Disillusioned Young Man and Higher Ed in the US

Across the United States, growing numbers of young men are dropping out—of college, of the labor market, and of public life. They are disillusioned, disappointed, and increasingly detached from the institutions that once promised stability and purpose. Higher education is at the center of this unraveling. For many young men, it has become a symbol of a broken social contract—offering neither clear direction nor tangible reward.

Enrollment numbers reflect this retreat. Women now account for nearly 60 percent of U.S. college students. Men, particularly working-class men, have been withdrawing steadily for years. They are not disappearing from education simply out of disinterest—they are being priced out, pushed out, and in some cases replaced.

College has become a high-risk gamble for those without economic security. Some students take out tens of thousands of dollars in loans and find themselves dropping out or graduating into dead-end jobs. Others gamble in a more literal sense. The explosion of online sports betting and gambling apps has created a public health crisis that is largely invisible. Research shows that college students, particularly men, are significantly more likely to develop gambling problems than the general population. Some have even used federal student aid to fund their gambling. The financial and psychological toll is severe.

Alcohol remains another outlet for despair. While binge drinking has long been part of campus life, it is now more frequently a form of self-medication than social bonding. The stresses of debt, job insecurity, isolation, and untreated mental illness have led many young men to drink excessively. The consequences—academic failure, expulsion, addiction, violence—are often invisible until they are catastrophic.

The education system offers few lifelines. Counseling services are understaffed. Mentorship is scarce. For-profit colleges and nonselective public institutions offer quick credentials but little career mobility. Internships are often unpaid. Adjunct professors, who now make up the majority of the college teaching workforce, are overworked and underpaid, with little time for student engagement. The result is an environment where young men are left to fend for themselves, often without guidance, community, or hope.

Into this vacuum step political influencers who promise meaning and belonging—but offer grievance and distraction instead. Charlie Kirk, founder of Turning Point USA, has become one of the most recognizable figures appealing to disaffected young men. His message is simple: college is a scam, the system is rigged against you, and the left is to blame. But Kirk’s rhetoric does little to address real economic suffering. Instead of empowering young men with tools for analysis, organizing, or resilience, he offers them a worldview of resentment and victimhood. It's ideology without substance—an escape route that leads nowhere.

Compounding the crisis is the transformation of the U.S. labor market. Union jobs that once offered working-class men decent wages and stability have been gutted by automation, offshoring, deregulation, and union-busting campaigns. The pathways that allowed previous generations to thrive without a college degree have largely disappeared. Retail and service jobs dominate the landscape, with low pay, high turnover, and little dignity.

Meanwhile, higher education institutions have increasingly turned to international students to fill seats and boost tuition revenue. Many universities, especially at the graduate level, rely on international students—who often pay full price—to subsidize their operations. These students frequently gain access to internships, research positions, and jobs in STEM fields, sometimes edging out U.S. students with less financial or academic capital. While international students contribute intellectually and economically to American higher ed, their presence also reflects a system more concerned with revenue than with serving local and regional populations.

This mix of economic decline, addiction, alienation, and displacement has left many young men feeling irrelevant. Some turn to substances. Some drop out entirely. Others embrace simplistic ideologies that frame their loss as cultural rather than structural. But the deeper truth is this: they are caught between institutions that extract from them and influencers who exploit them.

The American higher education system has failed to adapt to the reality of millions of young men who no longer see it as a path forward. Until colleges address the psychological, social, and economic pain these men are facing—until they offer real support, purpose, and value—the disillusionment will deepen. Until labor policy creates viable alternatives through union jobs, apprenticeships, and living wages, higher education will continue to function not as a ladder of mobility but as a mirage.

Sources:
National Student Clearinghouse Research Center, Current Term Enrollment Estimates
University at Buffalo, Clinical and Research Institute on Addictions
International Center for Responsible Gaming
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance
Turning Point USA public statements and financial filings
U.S. Department of Labor, Bureau of Labor Statistics: Union Membership Data
Institute of International Education, Open Doors Report on International Educational Exchange
The Higher Education Inquirer archives on student debt, labor displacement, and campus disinformation campaigns

Digital Dope: How Internet Addiction Mirrors the Great Crises of Gin, Opium, Meth, and Fentanyl

In the 18th century, gin swept through the working-class neighborhoods of London, offering brief euphoria and long-term devastation. In the 19th century, opium dulled the pain of colonialism and industrial collapse. The 20th century brought methamphetamine and its promise of energy and escape, followed by fentanyl—cheap, potent, and deadly.

Now, in the 21st century, we face a new form of mass addiction: not chemical but digital. The most addictive substances of our time are not smoked, snorted, or injected—they are streamed, swiped, and scrolled.

The internet, once hailed as a revolution in knowledge and communication, has been weaponized into an empire of distraction and dependency. Social media, pornography, and online gambling—backed by surveillance capitalism and unchecked corporate power—are engineered for compulsive use. And like the addictive epidemics of the past, they are eroding individual agency, family life, and the very foundations of civic society.

The Gin Craze and the Algorithmic Binge

In 18th-century Britain, the Gin Craze turned city streets into open-air taverns. Cheap, potent alcohol flooded the market, leading to widespread addiction, crime, and social decay. The state profited from taxes while the poor drowned in despair.

Today’s equivalent is the infinite scroll. Social media platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook—like gin—are engineered to be consumed endlessly. The user is reduced to a set of engagement metrics. Like the gin drinker numbing pain, the social media user seeks validation, escape, or identity in a flood of curated images and outrage. Depression, anxiety, and loneliness have exploded, especially among teens and young adults. Suicides, particularly among girls, have surged in tandem with social media usage.

Opium Dens and the Porn Empire

The opium den offered oblivion. It soothed pain but eroded will. Victorian elites warned of its moral decay while quietly indulging themselves.

Today, online pornography is the new opium—widely available, hyper-stimulating, and often degrading. Once confined to private spaces, it is now accessible to children, monetized by multi-billion-dollar platforms, and normalized by mainstream culture. The effects—especially on young people—include desensitization, unrealistic expectations, isolation, and difficulty forming real-life relationships.

Research has shown that excessive porn consumption alters brain chemistry similarly to addictive drugs. It hijacks the reward system, rewires sexual expectations, and in many cases, contributes to erectile dysfunction, compulsive behavior, and emotional detachment.

Meth, Fentanyl, and the Speed of the Feed

Meth promised productivity; fentanyl promises relief. Both deliver destruction.

Digital addiction today mimics the frenetic highs of meth and the numbing power of fentanyl. The constant rush of notifications, likes, and headlines overstimulates the brain and crushes attention spans. Apps and games are engineered like slot machines, delivering intermittent reinforcement that keeps users hooked. The average smartphone user touches their phone over 2,500 times a day.

University students struggle to read long texts or concentrate for extended periods. Professors battle declining classroom attention and rising rates of anxiety and burnout. Like meth, the digital feed gives the illusion of efficiency while grinding the mind into dust.

Online Gambling: Casino in Your Pocket

The rise of online sports betting and casino apps has brought Vegas to every dorm room and bedroom. Targeted ads on Instagram and YouTube lure young people into betting with "free" money. Many students—especially young men—develop compulsive behaviors, losing thousands before they graduate. Some turn to credit cards, payday loans, or family bailouts.

States, like governments in the gin and opium eras, have embraced online gambling for its tax revenues. Universities, meanwhile, remain largely silent—even as students destroy their finances and futures through legalized digital addiction.

Higher Education: From Ivory Tower to Digital Trap

Colleges were once sanctuaries of thought and reflection. Today, they are nodes in the digital economy—where learning management systems monitor clicks, and students are nudged toward screens at every turn. Social interaction is filtered through group chats and Reddit threads. Pornography, gambling, and endless scrolling are a click away on the same device used to write term papers and attend virtual lectures.

Even counseling services are digitized. The solution to tech addiction, students are told, is often more tech—apps that monitor screen time, AI chatbots for mental health, or video therapy that feels detached and impersonal.

The Profiteers and the Pushers

In every addiction crisis, there are profiteers: distillers, opium traders, pharmaceutical companies, and cartels. Today, Big Tech plays the same role. Meta, TikTok, YouTube, Pornhub, DraftKings, FanDuel, and hundreds of smaller apps compete for attention with algorithms that exploit human weakness.

Their business model depends on addiction. They study neuroscience, behavioral psychology, and micro-targeted advertising with military-grade precision. Like the drug lords of the past, they deny responsibility while reaping billions.

And just as the poor suffered most in the gin and opioid crises, it is the working class, the unemployed, the chronically ill, and the disconnected who fall hardest into the digital pit.

The Need for Radical Intervention

Digital addiction is not a moral failing—it’s a public health emergency. Like past addiction epidemics, the solution requires:

• Public awareness campaigns

• Stricter age and content regulation

• Taxation on digital vice industries

• Digital literacy education at all levels

• Offline spaces and activities that foster real connection and attention

Higher education must lead. Not by digitizing every service, but by teaching students to reclaim their minds, their time, and their agency. Faculty must model mindful engagement and challenge the corporatization of the university by tech companies. Administrators must reconsider their reliance on LMS systems, data harvesting, and digital surveillance.

Will We Wake Up in Time?

In the past, addiction crises forced society to reflect on what was lost: family cohesion, civic virtue, mental clarity, and freedom itself. We stand again at such a crossroads. The digital drug is in every hand, and the overdose is slow—but devastating.

Like gin, opium, meth, and fentanyl, the internet addiction crisis is about more than chemicals—it’s about despair, disconnection, and exploitation. And like those earlier epidemics, it is not an individual failing, but a systemic one. The good news? As with past crises, awareness is the first step toward recovery. The question is: Will we act before another generation is lost?

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The Higher Education Inquirer continues to investigate the intersection of capitalism, addiction, and the commodification of human attention. Reach out if you have a story to share.

Sexual Criminals in US Higher Education: A Brief History

Sexual abuse in US higher education has persisted for decades across multiple institutional domains. Perpetrators have included doctors, professors, athletic staff, administrators, fraternity members, and students. While some high-profile cases have drawn national attention, many remain buried under confidentiality agreements, weak oversight, and institutional reluctance to act against powerful individuals and organizations.

Medical and athletic departments have been at the center of several major cases. At the University of Southern California (USC), Dr. George Tyndall, a campus gynecologist, was accused by hundreds of women of sexual abuse during exams spanning three decades. Despite internal complaints dating back to the 1990s, USC allowed Tyndall to remain employed until 2016. The university later agreed to a $1.1 billion settlement in 2021, the largest sexual abuse settlement in higher education history.

At Michigan State University (MSU), Dr. Larry Nassar sexually abused hundreds of women and girls, including Olympic athletes, while serving as a team physician. Reports were repeatedly ignored or minimized by athletic staff and administrators. In 2018, Nassar was sentenced to 40 to 175 years in prison. MSU paid $500 million in settlements to survivors.

Pennsylvania State University saw one of the most publicized cover-ups in collegiate sports when former assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky was convicted in 2012 of sexually abusing boys over a 15-year period. High-ranking university officials, including President Graham Spanier and Athletic Director Tim Curley, were later convicted for failing to report allegations. The scandal led to resignations, criminal charges, and a significant financial settlement.

The University of Michigan faced a similar reckoning. Dr. Robert Anderson, a campus physician, was accused by more than 1,000 former students and athletes of sexual abuse between 1966 and 2003. The university acknowledged that numerous complaints were not acted upon and agreed to a $490 million settlement in 2022.

Columbia University reached a $236 million settlement in 2023 with hundreds of patients of Dr. Robert Hadden, a gynecologist accused of sexually abusing women over several decades. Hadden, affiliated with Columbia and NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, had previously received limited sanctions and continued treating patients despite multiple complaints.

Beyond medical and athletic departments, faculty and administrators have also engaged in sexual misconduct. At Harvard University, government professor Jorge Domínguez was accused of harassment spanning four decades. Multiple internal warnings went unheeded. Domínguez retired only after public pressure and a university investigation confirmed a pattern of misconduct and institutional failure.

Louisiana State University (LSU) was investigated by the U.S. Department of Education following reports of systemic failures to respond to sexual misconduct complaints, including those involving football players and fraternity members. A 2021 report by the law firm Husch Blackwell detailed widespread noncompliance with Title IX procedures and administrative inaction.

Fraternities represent another enduring source of sexual violence and institutional evasion. Greek organizations have been linked to a disproportionately high number of sexual assault reports on campuses. A 2007 sociological study by Armstrong, Hamilton, and Sweeney documented how alcohol-fueled fraternity parties serve as a structural context for what they called "party rape." Despite such findings, enforcement has remained limited.

At Baylor University, a 2016 scandal exposed multiple incidents of sexual assault involving football players and fraternity affiliates. The university hired the law firm Pepper Hamilton, whose report concluded that Baylor had failed to implement Title IX protections. Several university leaders, including President Ken Starr, were forced to resign.

Ohio State University faced its own reckoning when more than 350 men accused team doctor Richard Strauss of sexual abuse from the 1970s through the 1990s. The university confirmed that coaches and administrators were aware of complaints but failed to act. OSU has paid over $60 million in settlements.

The fraternity Sigma Alpha Epsilon (SAE) has faced repeated allegations of sexual misconduct and hazing across numerous campuses, including the University of Oklahoma and Louisiana State University. Although some chapters were suspended, most eventually returned, often with limited structural changes.

At the University of Southern California, the Sigma Nu fraternity was suspended in 2021 after multiple students reported being drugged and assaulted at fraternity events. Student protests followed, demanding greater accountability and questioning the role of fraternities on campus. However, no permanent action was taken against Greek life.

Phi Delta Theta was implicated in the 2017 hazing death of LSU freshman Max Gruver, alongside other reports of sexual misconduct involving chapter members. Gruver’s death, caused by forced alcohol consumption, led to criminal charges and civil litigation, but the fraternity was not banned permanently.

The University of Michigan, University of Virginia, and Columbia University have all faced scrutiny over fraternity-related assaults. At UVA, the controversial and later-retracted 2014 Rolling Stone article “A Rape on Campus” sparked national attention, but also backlash. Nonetheless, the story accelerated broader examinations of sexual assault within Greek life.

Some religious institutions have also been implicated. A 2021 ProPublica investigation into Liberty University found that administrators had discouraged sexual assault victims from reporting incidents and in some cases penalized them under the school’s conduct codes. Liberty settled related lawsuits for $14 million and remains under federal investigation.

Federal laws such as Title IX and the Clery Act require institutions to report and address sexual misconduct, but enforcement is inconsistent. Many institutions use non-disclosure agreements and confidential settlements to manage liability without public accountability. Survivors report that grievance processes are often retraumatizing, with few consequences for perpetrators.

Advocates have called for mandatory public reporting of misconduct cases, independent oversight of campus adjudication, and restrictions on the use of NDAs in sexual misconduct settlements. Some have proposed the creation of a national registry for faculty and staff found responsible for misconduct—similar to systems used in K-12 education—but no such registry currently exists.

The prevalence of sexual abuse in higher education—whether committed by faculty, doctors, athletic staff, or fraternity members—reflects institutional priorities that often place reputation and revenue above student and employee safety. While some institutions have taken steps toward transparency and reform, systemic change remains limited.

Sources
The New York Times. (2021). "USC Agrees to Pay $1.1 Billion to Settle Gynecologist Abuse Claims."
ESPN. (2018). "Larry Nassar sentenced to 40 to 175 years."
NPR. (2012). "Jerry Sandusky Sentenced To 30 To 60 Years For Sex Abuse."
Detroit Free Press. (2022). "University of Michigan to settle sexual abuse lawsuits for $490 million."
The New York Times. (2023). "Columbia to Pay $236 Million in Settlements Over Gynecologist’s Abuse."
Harvard Crimson. (2021). "Domínguez Investigation Finds 40 Years of Sexual Misconduct, Institutional Failures."
USA Today. (2021). "LSU mishandled sexual misconduct complaints."
American Sociological Review. (2007). “Sexual Assault on Campus: A Multilevel, Integrative Approach to Party Rape,” Armstrong, Hamilton, Sweeney.
The Atlantic. (2014). "The Dark Power of Fraternities."
CNN. (2017). "LSU Student Dies in Hazing Incident."
Rolling Stone. (2014, Retracted). “A Rape on Campus.”
Columbia Journalism Review. (2015). “The Lessons of Rolling Stone.”
ProPublica. (2021). “The Liberty Way.”
Chronicle of Higher Education. (2022). “After USC Fraternity Suspensions, Students Push for Greek Life Abolition.”
Inside Higher Ed. (2021). “Fraternity and Sorority Misconduct: Policy Gaps and Institutional Avoidance.”
U.S. Department of Education Office for Civil Rights. (2024). “Open Title IX Investigations in Postsecondary Institutions.”
North American Interfraternity Conference. (2023). Public Statements on Campus Regulation.

Did Higher Education Ever Have a Soul? A Response to Frank Bruni

In his New York Times opinion piece, “I’m Watching the Sacrifice of College’s Soul,” Frank Bruni laments the erosion of academic rigor and the rise of artificial intelligence in the college classroom. He worries that students read less, care more about networking, and rely too much on AI to write their papers. And he ties this perceived moral decay to the broader culture war era under a second Trump administration.

But if we are truly asking whether college has lost its soul, the answer lies not just in classroom etiquette, grade inflation, or even AI. These are surface symptoms. The deeper rot goes back much further—and runs much deeper.

In 2025, as student debt surpasses $2 trillion, adjuncts live paycheck to paycheck, and billion-dollar university endowments sit idle amid growing social crises, the question lingers like a ghost in the lecture hall: Did higher education ever have a soul?

Bruni suggests that something noble has been lost. But to mourn a fall from grace assumes there was grace to begin with. It assumes the soul of higher education was once intact—whole, ethical, virtuous. That assumption demands interrogation.

A Soul in Theory
From the founding of Harvard in 1636 to the post-WWII GI Bill expansion, there have always been idealistic threads: Socratic dialogue, liberal education, shared governance, land-grant missions to uplift the working class. Thinkers like John Dewey and W.E.B. Du Bois believed that education could be democratic and emancipatory, a crucible for ethical development and social justice.

But for every Du Bois, there was a Booker T. Washington being positioned to serve capitalism. For every land-grant university, there were extractive relationships with Indigenous lands and communities. For every golden age of college access, there were doors closed to women, Black Americans, and the working poor.

The soul, it seems, has always lived uneasily beside the dollar.

The Neoliberal Turn
In the last half-century, the contradictions have only grown starker. Beginning in the late 1970s and accelerating in the Reagan era, higher education became increasingly privatized, commodified, and financialized. Universities morphed into entrepreneurial corporations, presidents became CEOs, students became customers, and faculty became precarious gig workers. The soul of higher education—if ever there was one—was sold off in pieces. Not in a single transaction, but through thousands of small decisions: outsourcing food services, patenting research, expanding sports empires, launching predatory online programs, partnering with Wall Street, and calling it “innovation.”

Today, we see the results:

For-profit colleges and edtech firms exploiting vulnerable populations.

Public universities chasing out-of-state tuition while abandoning their mission to serve local and working-class communities.

DEI initiatives used as branding while workers on campus remain underpaid, underinsured, and over-policed.

Boards of trustees stacked with bankers, developers, and tech executives more loyal to markets than to mission.

And beyond the classrooms that Bruni mourns, darker truths persist—truths rarely explored in glossy alumni magazines or New York Times op-eds:

Fraternities continue to operate as quasi-criminal enterprises, protected by wealthy alumni and timid administrations. Hazing deaths, sexual assault, racial abuse, and alcohol-fueled violence are treated as unfortunate exceptions, rather than the predictable outcomes of a toxic culture of entitlement and silence.

NCAA football, the crown jewel of many flagship universities, thrives on the unpaid labor of student-athletes whose bodies are sacrificed for weekend entertainment and television contracts. Behind the pageantry lie lifelong injuries, untreated concussions, and a trail of lawsuits over traumatic brain damage—while coaches and athletic directors rake in seven-figure salaries.

These are not footnotes to the story of higher education’s moral decline. They are the story—central to understanding what kind of “soul” has actually animated American higher education for decades.

A Soul in Struggle
Yet to say higher education never had a soul would be to erase the people who have fought—and still fight—for it to matter.

The soul has lived in the pushback: in student protests for civil rights and against apartheid; in hunger strikes for living wages and union recognition; in the quiet resilience of community college faculty who refuse to give up on their students despite impossible workloads and poverty wages. It’s found in the Black campus movements of the 1960s and today, in the labor organizing of adjuncts and graduate students, and in underfunded tribal colleges and HBCUs resisting systemic neglect.

And the soul is alive in critique itself—in those willing to ask not only what students are learning, but why the university exists, who it serves, and who it exploits.

Where Do We Go from Here?
Frank Bruni mourns the death of something noble. But perhaps what’s dying isn’t the soul of higher education—it’s the illusion that the soul was ever fully alive within institutions so deeply enmeshed in money, hierarchy, and exclusion.

If higher education once had a soul, it now lies fragmented—compromised by institutional betrayal, bureaucratic inertia, and a corporate logic that values prestige over people. But to ask whether it ever had a soul is to ask whether the soul resides in institutions at all, or in the people struggling within and against them.

Perhaps we shouldn’t romanticize the past, but neither should we resign ourselves to the present.

The soul of higher education may never have been whole. But it has always been contested. And in that contest—between commerce and conscience, exclusion and liberation, silence and speech—we may yet find the spark to reimagine what education could be.

Because if the university is to be saved, its soul must be fought for—not assumed, and certainly not bought.

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Sources:

• Bruni, Frank. “I’m Watching the Sacrifice of College’s Soul.” New York Times, July 14, 2025.

• U.S. Department of Education. Federal Student Aid Portfolio Summary. https://studentaid.gov/data-center

• The Century Foundation. “The Adjunct Crisis.”

• Flanagan, Caitlin. “Death at a Penn State Fraternity.” The Atlantic, November 2017.

• NPR. “Inside the Secret World of College Fraternities.”

• ESPN. “Concussion Lawsuits and the NCAA.”

• The Chronicle of Higher Education. “How Billion-Dollar Endowments Avoid Spending.”

• The Guardian. “Inside America’s College Debt Machine.”

• American Association of University Professors (AAUP). “Trends in Faculty Employment Status.”

• The Intercept. “EdTech and the Exploitation of Students.”

• Washington Post. “DEI for PR, Not for Pay.”

• Inside Higher Ed. “Boards of Trustees: Who They Really Represent.”

• NLRB Rulings and Union Filings, 2010–2025.

What the Pentagon Doesn’t Want You to See: For-Profit Colleges in the Military-Industrial-Education Complex

[Editor's note: The Higher Education Inquirer has emailed these FOIA documents to ProPublica and the Republic Report.  We will send these documents to any additional media and any individuals who request for the information. We are also seeking experts who can help us review and decipher the information that has been released.]   

On July 3, 2025, the Higher Education Inquirer received the latest response from the U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) regarding FOIA request 22-F-1203—our most recent effort in a nearly eight-year campaign to uncover how subprime and for-profit colleges have preyed on military servicemembers, veterans, and their families. 

The response included confirmation that 1,420 pages of documents were located. But of those, 306 pages were withheld in full, and 1,114 were released only with heavy redactions.  A few for-profit colleges—Trident University International, Grand Canyon University, DeVry University, and American Public University System (which includes American Military University and American Public University)—were specifically mentioned in the partially visible content.

 

And yet the larger truth remains hidden. The names of other institutions known to have exploited military-connected students—University of Phoenix, Colorado Technical University, American InterContinental University, Purdue University Global, and Liberty University Online, among others—were nowhere to be found in the documents we received. Their absence is conspicuous.

We have been pursuing the truth since December 2017, demanding records that would reveal how the DoD enabled these schools to thrive. We sought the list of the 50 worst-performing colleges receiving Tuition Assistance (TA) funds, based on data compiled under Executive Order 13607 during the Obama Administration. That list was never released. When the Trump Administration took power in 2017, they quietly abandoned the protective measures meant to hold these colleges accountable. Our FOIA request DOD OIG-2019-000702 was denied, with the Pentagon claiming that no such list existed. A second request in 2021 (21-F-0411) was also rejected. And now, more than three years after we filed our 2022 request, the DoD continues to deny the public full access to the truth.

The records we did receive are riddled with legal exemptions: internal deliberations, privacy claims, and most notably, references to 10 U.S.C. § 4021, a law that allows the DoD to withhold details of research transactions outside of traditional grants and contracts. In other words, the Pentagon has built legal firewalls around its relationships with for-profit education providers—and continues to shield bad actors from scrutiny.

But the complicity doesn’t end there. It extends deep into the institutional fabric of how the military interfaces with higher education.

Decades of Systemic Corruption

Since the 1980s, the U.S. Department of Defense has worked hand-in-glove with for-profit colleges through a nonprofit called the Council of College and Military Educators (CCME). What began in the 1970s as a noble initiative to expand access to education for military personnel was hijacked by predatory colleges—including the University of Phoenix—that used the organization as a lobbying front.

These schools infiltrated CCME events, using them to curry favor with military officials, often by hiring veterans as on-base sales agents and even providing alcohol to loosen up potential gatekeepers. While CCME publicly maintained the appearance of academic integrity and service, behind the scenes it served as a conduit for lobbying, influence, and enrollment schemes. Military education officers were schmoozed, manipulated, and in some cases, quietly co-opted. This is something you won’t find in CCME’s official history.

We have been told by multiple insiders that the partnership between DoD and these schools was not just tolerated but actively nurtured. Attempts at reform came and went. Investigations were buried. Promises to "do better" evaporated. No one was held accountable. No one went to jail. But the damage has been lasting—measured in ruined credit, wasted benefits, and lives derailed by fraudulent degrees and broken promises.

The Trump-Hegseth Department of Defense

And still, new scandals—except those uncovered by us—go largely unreported. The media has moved on. Congressional attention has shifted. And the same schools, or their rebranded successors, continue to operate freely, often under the protective shadow of military partnerships.

Today, the DoD continues to deny that the DODOIG-2019-000702 list of the 50 worst schools even exists. But we know otherwise. Based on VA data, whistleblower accounts, and independent reporting, we are confident that this list was compiled—and buried. The question is why. And the answer may very well lie in the unredacted names of institutions too politically connected or too legally protected to be exposed.

The Higher Education Inquirer will not stop pushing for those names, those communications, and that accountability. Because behind every redaction is a servicemember who trusted the system—and got scammed. Behind every delay is a taxpayer footing the bill for worthless credentials. Behind every refusal to act is a government too intertwined with profit to protect its own people.

This is not just a story of bureaucratic inertia. It is a story of complicity at the highest levels. And it is ongoing.

Related links:
DoD review: 0% of schools following TA rules (Military Times, 2018)
Schools are struggling to meet TA rules, but DoD isn’t punishing them. Here’s why. (Military Times, 2019)

Madness on Campus: The Unseen Struggles of College Students

College campuses are often portrayed as vibrant places of learning, personal growth, and social exploration. For many, these years are full of excitement, new experiences, and the thrill of shaping one’s future. However, beneath the surface of campus life, a darker reality lurks—a reality that is rarely discussed but increasingly hard to ignore. The mental health struggles of college students have reached a crisis point, and the pressure to succeed academically, socially, and professionally is often pushing students to their breaking point. The “madness” on campus isn’t just about late-night study sessions or the intensity of competitive sports—it’s about the unseen battles many students are facing every day.

The Pressure Cooker of College Life

For today’s college students, the pressure to succeed is more intense than ever. In addition to excelling academically, students are expected to balance internships, extracurriculars, social lives, and the looming uncertainty of their futures. The fear of not measuring up, of failing to secure a job after graduation, or of not living up to parental expectations can be overwhelming. These pressures are compounded by financial burdens, the weight of student loans, and in many cases, the struggle to make ends meet while navigating the high cost of living.

While the modern college experience has evolved to include more support systems than in past generations, the demands placed on students have also grown exponentially. Many students find themselves caught in a cycle of stress and exhaustion, trying to juggle the high expectations placed upon them. Unfortunately, these expectations can be detrimental to their mental health, leading to feelings of inadequacy, anxiety, and depression.

The Silent Epidemic: Mental Health on Campus

According to recent surveys, mental health issues among college students have skyrocketed in the past decade. Anxiety, depression, and stress are at all-time highs, with more students reporting feeling overwhelmed and mentally exhausted. A 2023 study from the American College Health Association found that 60% of students felt “overwhelming” anxiety at some point during the previous year, and 40% reported feeling so depressed that it was difficult to function. Despite this, only a small percentage of students are receiving the mental health support they need.

The stigma surrounding mental health remains one of the biggest obstacles to seeking help. Students often feel they must appear “perfect” in order to meet academic and social expectations, and admitting to mental health struggles can feel like an admission of failure. As a result, many students suffer in silence, exacerbating their problems and making it harder to find a way out.

Campus resources, while they exist, are often overwhelmed. Counselors and therapists on many campuses are stretched thin, with waitlists sometimes extending for weeks. This leaves many students without the help they so desperately need. Additionally, the counseling services offered on many campuses are often seen as temporary fixes—band-aid solutions to much deeper, systemic issues that go unaddressed.

The Tragic Consequences of Ignored Struggles

The mental health crisis among college students is not just a matter of academic performance or emotional distress—it has life-and-death consequences. A growing number of tragic stories are emerging from campuses across the nation, with young people taking their own lives in response to their struggles. Suicide is now one of the leading causes of death among college-aged individuals, with an alarming number of students feeling they have no other option.

One heartbreaking example is Riley O’Neill, a talented swimmer at the University of Texas, whose death in 2020 shocked the college community. O’Neill, who had been struggling with depression and the overwhelming pressures of college life, took his own life after feeling isolated and unable to cope with his struggles. His death, like many others, brought attention to the unseen mental health crises occurring on campuses and underscored the urgent need for better mental health resources and support systems for students.

Stories like O’Neill’s are tragic reminders of the real, human toll of mental health struggles on campus. They should serve as a wake-up call for universities to reevaluate how they support their students and to prioritize mental health just as much as academic performance or career success.

Sexual Assault on Campus: An Overlooked Crisis

Another critical issue that often goes unaddressed is sexual assault on college campuses. According to the National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC), 1 in 5 women and 1 in 16 men experience sexual assault while in college. This staggering statistic highlights the reality that sexual violence is an endemic problem on many campuses across the country. Yet, many victims of assault feel isolated, shamed, or even responsible for the violence they’ve experienced. The trauma of sexual assault can have severe, long-lasting effects on mental health, including depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and suicidal thoughts.

Part of the reason sexual assault continues to be a pervasive issue on campuses is the culture of silence that surrounds it. Victims often feel afraid to come forward, either due to the fear of not being believed, the social stigma, or the complicated legal and institutional processes that often seem to favor the accused rather than the survivor. This fear can lead to underreporting, with many victims choosing to keep their trauma hidden. Additionally, some students may feel the pressure to remain silent due to concerns about their academic and social standing on campus.

It’s crucial that campuses provide safe, supportive environments for students who have experienced sexual assault. Universities must have clear policies and resources in place to support survivors—ranging from accessible counseling services to campus security that is trained to handle these cases with sensitivity and professionalism. Survivors of sexual violence deserve to feel heard, validated, and safe while navigating the aftermath of their experiences.

The Role of Alcohol and Drug Abuse in Campus Struggles

In addition to mental health challenges and sexual assault, substance abuse is another issue that is deeply intertwined with the campus experience. Alcohol and drug use are unfortunately common among college students, and for many, partying or experimenting with substances is viewed as an integral part of social life. However, for some, these substances become a coping mechanism for the stress, anxiety, and depression that they are grappling with.

The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA) reports that about 60% of full-time college students between the ages of 18 and 22 drink alcohol, with 40% engaging in binge drinking. Excessive alcohol consumption is often linked to risky behaviors, including unsafe sexual activity, physical injuries, and academic struggles. For students already dealing with mental health issues, alcohol can exacerbate feelings of depression and anxiety, creating a dangerous cycle of dependence and emotional turmoil.

Drugs, including prescription medication misuse, marijuana, and party drugs, are also prevalent on campuses. These substances may be used to self-medicate for anxiety or depression, or they may be part of a social trend. The consequences of substance abuse are severe, ranging from academic failure and legal issues to addiction and overdose. For students in crisis, turning to drugs and alcohol may feel like an escape, but it ultimately only deepens their problems.

Campuses need to take substance abuse seriously by offering programs that promote responsible drinking, early intervention for at-risk students, and support for those struggling with addiction. Universities must also be proactive in educating students about the dangers of alcohol and drug abuse, providing resources for students who may need help overcoming addiction, and ensuring that they have a clear path to recovery.

The Months After Graduation: A New Set of Pressures

For many students, the madness doesn’t end when they graduate. In fact, some may argue that it intensifies. The months following graduation bring a new set of challenges and anxieties. While some students quickly find jobs, others face the harsh reality of a competitive job market, uncertainty, and the pressure to establish themselves as successful adults.

Recent graduates often struggle with the transition from the structured environment of college to the ambiguity of the professional world. Many face the disappointment of job rejections or the discouragement of landing positions that don’t align with their degree or career aspirations. The search for meaningful work, combined with the financial strain of student loans, can lead to feelings of failure, depression, and isolation.

This period is especially challenging for students who may have expected to step into a job immediately after graduation or who lack a clear career path. The societal pressure to “have it all figured out” within the first few months of post-graduation life can exacerbate anxiety and self-doubt. Graduates are expected to succeed quickly, to climb the career ladder, and to live independently—yet many are struggling with the emotional fallout from the relentless pressure of college life and the overwhelming uncertainty of the future.

Moreover, the feeling of isolation can be particularly pronounced during this time. Students leave behind the community of friends and professors that supported them through college, and in the midst of job applications, networking, and interviews, they often find themselves feeling disconnected. The support systems that existed in college become harder to access, and many graduates feel like they’re navigating their post-college life alone.

A Call for Compassion and Understanding

The madness on campus isn’t just about the chaos of late-night cramming sessions or the excitement of sports games. It’s about the unseen mental health struggles that affect so many students every day. It’s about creating a system that values students as whole individuals, not just as future professionals or academic performers.

In the face of this crisis, it is imperative that colleges and universities act now. By prioritizing mental health, fostering a culture of compassion, and offering the resources and support that students need, we can ensure that the madness on campus transforms from a chaotic burden to an environment of healing, growth, and well-being. The future of higher education must be one where students are supported in every sense—academically, socially, and emotionally. Only then will we be able to protect our students from the madness that too often consumes them.

Resources for Students Struggling with Mental Health, Sexual Assault, and Substance Abuse:

If you or someone you know is struggling with any of the following issues, here are some resources to reach out to:

• National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255) – Available 24/7 for confidential support.

• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 – Free, 24/7 text support for those in crisis.

• National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC): www.nsvrc.org – Offers resources and support for sexual assault survivors.

• RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network): 1-800-656-HOPE (4673) – National sexual assault hotline offering confidential support and resources.

• Alcoholics Anonymous (AA): www.aa.org – Provides support for individuals struggling with alcohol addiction.

• National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA): www.drugabuse.gov – Provides resources for students dealing with substance abuse issues.

These resources are here to help students navigate the challenges of mental health, sexual violence, and substance abuse during and after their college years. Don’t be afraid to ask for help—it’s a critical step in finding support and healing.

The Council of College Military Educators: DOD's Complicity with Predatory Colleges Continues

Since the 1980's, the US Department of Defense has enabled bad actor colleges to prey upon servicemembers, veterans, and their families. Through a non-profit organization called the Council of College Military Educators, DOD and these questionable schools created a formal alliance.  

The Council of College Military Educators (CCME) formed in the 1970s with a noble goal, to provide free education to military personnel. But the organization was hijacked by the University of Phoenix and other predatory for-profit colleges who used a variety of questionable and sometimes illegal techniques to enroll students on military bases around the globe. Schools often hired veterans to act as shills for the school.  

In its heyday, CCME events were a prime place for predatory schools to lobby military educators. We were told that schools even paid for alcohol, to make the DOD personnel more receptive.  That's something you won't read in CCME's history. For nearly a decade we have tried to get justice for folks who have been preyed upon by those schools, and little has been done. Scandals have come and gone and been forgotten.  No one went to jail. But the ripple effects of folks who have been deceived by predatory schools have not receded. 

New scandals about those who serve being preyed upon by schools have not been revealed (except by us) and it's possible that they may never by full reported.  And so it goes.  

DODOIG-2019-000702 List of the 50 Worst Schools