This month, The Higher Education Inquirer has surpassed 300,000 views, the highest in our history. That milestone is not just a number — it represents the growing community of readers who care about uncovering the truth behind higher education’s power structures.
And yet, we must also be candid: we are considering ceasing operations at the very moment our popularity is peaking. Some may find this paradox hard to understand. Why step back now, when the audience has never been larger?
The reality is that investigative journalism is most vulnerable when it is most effective. Our work has never been about clicks or page views; it has been about holding powerful institutions and the bad actors behind them accountable. With that mission has come heightened scrutiny and retaliation. The lawsuit we currently face is just one example of the legal and financial pressures designed to silence independent voices. Even when such cases are ultimately thrown out or defeated, the process is exhausting and expensive, diverting energy away from reporting and into survival.
Beyond the lawsuit, the sustainability of this project has always been tenuous. Unlike large media corporations, we have no shield of corporate lawyers, no deep-pocketed donors, and no guarantee of steady funding. Every article is the product of labor that is often invisible — research, fact-checking, and the personal toll of constant resistance to disinformation and intimidation.
In this environment, popularity does not equate to stability. If anything, it makes us more of a target. The more people read, the more those exposed by our work have an incentive to retaliate.
If The Higher Education Inquirer does close, it will not be because the audience wasn’t there. It will be because the system in which independent journalism struggles to survive has failed to protect those doing the work.
We remain deeply grateful to our readers. Whether this is a pause, a transition, or an end, we want you to understand why we are considering this step. The paradox of our situation speaks volumes about the fragility of truth-telling in America — and the lengths to which power will go to keep it contained.
In the last decade, Charlie Kirk and Milo Yiannopoulos emerged as two of the most controversial figures on U.S. campuses. Though different in demeanor, both tapped into a potent formula: using universities as battlegrounds in the culture wars, staging spectacles that blurred the line between political activism, media provocation, and profit.
Yiannopoulos, a former Breitbart editor, built his American notoriety through his 2016–2017 campus speaking tour. His brand was openly flamboyant, camp, and cruel—delighting his fans with ridicule of feminists, Muslims, and LGBTQ activists while enraging opponents. The height of his career came at the University of California, Berkeley, in February 2017, when protests against his scheduled speech escalated into property damage, a police crackdown, and national media coverage. Berkeley—the symbolic birthplace of the 1960s Free Speech Movement—was suddenly cast as the stage for a right-wing provocation about free expression.
But the fallout from Yiannopoulos’s personal life quickly undercut his momentum. Video surfaced of him appearing to condone sexual relationships between older men and boys, remarks he later attempted to reframe as jokes or personal history. The scandal cost him a book deal with Simon & Schuster, led to his resignation from Breitbart, and triggered a cascade of canceled appearances. His sexual provocations, once a source of his appeal, became his undoing in mainstream conservative circles.
Charlie Kirk, meanwhile, chose a steadier path. With Turning Point USA, founded in 2012, he avoided Yiannopoulos’s sexual flamboyance and leaned instead on organization-building, donor cultivation, and a veneer of respectability. TPUSA planted chapters across hundreds of campuses, launched the Professor Watchlist, and turned campus protests into proof of “leftist intolerance.” If Yiannopoulos was the shock jock of campus conservatism, Kirk became its institution-builder.
Yet the connection between them remains. Both recognized the utility of outrage—that protests and cancellations could be reframed as censorship, and that universities could be cast as ideological enemies. Berkeley provided the prototype: a riot in defense of inclusivity was spun into evidence of liberal suppression, fueling conservative mobilization and fundraising.
Donors, Dark Money, and the Business of Outrage
Neither Yiannopoulos nor Kirk could have sustained their visibility without deep-pocketed benefactors and ideological patrons.
Yiannopoulos’s rise was closely tied to the Mercer family, the billionaire backers of Breitbart News who also helped fund Donald Trump’s 2016 campaign. Their patronage gave him a platform at Breitbart and the resources to stage his “Dangerous Faggot Tour.” When the pedophilia scandal erupted, the Mercers swiftly cut ties, leaving him adrift without institutional protection.
Kirk’s Turning Point USA followed a different trajectory, courting a wide network of wealthy conservative donors. According to IRS filings and investigative reports, TPUSA has received millions from the Koch network, Illinois Republican governor Bruce Rauner’s family, and donors linked to the DeVos family. By 2020, TPUSA’s budget topped $30 million annually, making it a financial juggernaut in the campus culture wars. The group’s lavish conferences, slick marketing, and constant media presence depended heavily on this donor pipeline.
These financial networks reveal that both Kirk and Yiannopoulos were never simply “grassroots” activists. They were, in fact, products of elite funding streams, crafted and sustained by billionaire patrons seeking cultural leverage. For universities, that means student protests were never just about clashing ideologies—they were also responses to well-financed operations designed to destabilize higher education as an institution and mobilize a generation of voters.
Kirk’s later alignment with Christian nationalism and the MAGA movement extended his influence far beyond campus politics. His assassination in September 2025 has already created a martyrdom narrative for the right, just as Yiannopoulos’s clashes at Berkeley created symbolic victories, even as his personal scandals consumed him.
For higher education, the legacies of Kirk and Yiannopoulos are instructive. Universities remain prime targets for political entrepreneurs who thrive on outrage, whether their methods are flamboyant and sexualized or organizational and ideological. The question for higher education is not whether these figures will return—others surely will—but whether institutions can resist being drawn, again and again, into spectacles that erode the very idea of the university as a space for learning and dialogue.
The BRICS alliance—Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa—has emerged as both an economic and educational bloc. While the U.S., U.K., and Europe still dominate in global higher education prestige, the BRICS countries are investing billions to expand their universities’ reach, attract international students, and challenge Western dominance in research and rankings.
The Top BRICS Universities
Recent rankings—such as the “Three University Missions” framework compiled by the Association of Ranking Compilers (ARC)—consistently place Chinese and Russian universities at the top of the BRICS hierarchy.
China: Peking University, Tsinghua University, Fudan University, Shanghai Jiao Tong University, and the University of Science and Technology of China (USTC) consistently place among the world’s top institutions.
Russia: Lomonosov Moscow State University and Saint Petersburg State University lead, followed by Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology and Novosibirsk State University.
India: Indian Institute of Science (IISc) Bangalore and IITs (Bombay, Delhi, Madras) stand out in engineering and science.
Brazil: The University of São Paulo (USP) and Universidade Estadual de Campinas (Unicamp) are Latin America’s strongest performers.
South Africa: The University of Cape Town, University of the Witwatersrand, and Stellenbosch University remain the leading African universities.
China dominates numerically, with more than 200 universities represented in BRICS rankings—far ahead of Russia (161), India (93), Brazil (55), and South Africa (fewer than 20).
Beyond Rankings: What BRICS Universities Teach
Most leading BRICS universities are heavily STEM-oriented, training future engineers, medical professionals, and scientists. This is no accident. Just as Western universities in the so-called “Golden Years of Capitalism” prepared students for the industrial revolution, BRICS institutions are preparing for the next epoch—artificial intelligence, robotics, and 5G technologies.
In China and Russia, billionaires exist, but unlike in the United States, they do not dominate university governance. The state, particularly the Party in China, sets the agenda. Education here is not a marketplace of private donors and endowments, but a tool of statecraft and long-term economic planning.
This contrasts sharply with the United States, where higher education has been weaponized as a savior narrative against China—but where the system is riddled with debt, tuition inflation, and the casualization of faculty labor. In China, university education can be tuition-free, with no debt burdens, and designed to produce graduates with immediately usable skills.
International Students and Global Reach
One of the most striking shifts is in international student enrollment, where China has become a global hub. It now hosts the third-largest number of foreign students in the world, behind only the U.S. and U.K. Unlike in the West, international students in China disproportionately choose humanities programs—over 200,000 enrolled compared to fewer than 20,000 in the U.S.
Other BRICS nations are making slower progress. Russia has seen international enrollments grow, with Ural Federal University reporting a twelvefold increase in BRICS-country students since 2012. Brazil, India, and South Africa host far fewer foreign students but are experimenting with scholarship and exchange programs to grow.
Scholarship initiatives—especially linked to China’s Belt and Road Initiative—play a central role. In 2024, 200 Ethiopian students received full scholarships to study in Chinese universities. Institutions like Harbin Institute of Technology and Beijing Institute of Technology have become magnets for students from Africa, South Asia, and the Middle East.
Extraction and Education
The rise of BRICS education cannot be separated from the global economy of extraction—extraction of minerals, extraction of information, extraction of labor, and even extraction through surveillance and coercion. The knowledge economy in BRICS nations increasingly aims to produce technologies and machines that can help, hurt, or kill—from medical robotics to military drones.
Humanities, once central to shaping citizens and culture, risk being sidelined into boutique programs or small schools, little more than hobbies for the privileged. The future of higher education, in BRICS and globally, is being reoriented toward what capitalism demands: technical skills to maintain permanent war, digital economies, and resource exploitation.
Institutional Networks and Alliances
Beyond rankings and enrollments, BRICS has established its own inter-university cooperation networks:
BRICS Network University (BRICS-NU): A joint initiative promoting academic mobility, joint research, and shared degree programs. It is now expanding to BRICS+ countries such as Egypt, Iran, and the UAE.
BRICS+ Universities Association (BUA): Formed in 2023 to boost student recruitment and global visibility of BRICS institutions.
These alliances are designed not only to strengthen BRICS solidarity but also to present an alternative to Western-dominated institutions like the Ivy League, Oxbridge, and the Russell Group.
Why BRICS Universities Matter
For students in the Global South, BRICS universities increasingly represent a viable alternative to costly degrees in the U.S. or U.K. The lower tuition, growing prestige, and geopolitical alignment with emerging powers make these schools attractive.
For governments, higher education has become a strategic tool of soft power. China in particular is using its universities to deepen ties with Africa, Central Asia, and Latin America. Russia also leverages education as diplomacy, especially among post-Soviet states.
But the deeper issue is that education everywhere is now shaped by global capitalism, not just national priorities. If there is to be resistance—whether to debt peonage in the U.S. or to authoritarian technocracy in China—it will need to be international, much like labor struggles have had to cross borders.
Looking Ahead
With Egypt, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE joining BRICS+ in 2024–25, the bloc’s educational footprint will grow even larger. Universities in Cairo, Riyadh, and Abu Dhabi could soon be ranked alongside Peking University and Lomonosov Moscow State.
Singapore, while not a BRICS member, remains an important comparison point: its National University of Singapore (NUS) and Nanyang Technological University (NTU) routinely rank above all but the very top Chinese universities.
As the 21st century unfolds, the global higher education order is no longer confined to the West. The BRICS countries—and their universities—are carving out a new, contested space in the knowledge economy. Whether this space leads to emancipation or further domination is an open question. For now, it looks less like the liberal dream of the university and more like the epoch of the robot, alongside permanent war.
For years, Higher Education Inquirer (HEI) has documented how the climate crisis intersects with higher education. The evidence shows universities caught between their public claims of sustainability and the realities of financial pressures, risky expansion, and—in some cases—climate denial.
Bryan Alexander’s Universities on Fire offers a framework for understanding how climate change will affect colleges and universities. He describes scenarios where institutions face not only physical damage from storms, floods, and wildfires, but also declining enrollments, strained budgets, and reputational harm if they continue business as usual.
HEI’s reporting on Stockton University illustrates this problem. Its Atlantic City campus was celebrated as a forward-looking project, but the site is highly vulnerable to sea-level rise. Projections show more than two feet of water by 2050 and as much as five feet by 2100. Despite this, the university has continued to invest in the property, a decision that raises questions about long-term planning and responsibility.
The problems are not only physical. HEI has reported on “science-based climate change denial,” where the language of research and inquiry is used to delay or undermine action. This type of denial allows institutions to appear rigorous while, in practice, legitimizing doubt and obstructing necessary changes.
Even the digital infrastructure of higher education is implicated. Data centers and cloud computing require enormous amounts of water for cooling, a fact made more urgent in drought-stricken regions. HEI has suggested that universities confront their digital footprints by auditing storage, deleting unnecessary data, and questioning whether unlimited cloud use is consistent with sustainability goals.
The federal safety net is also shrinking. FEMA cuts have reduced disaster relief funding at a time when climate-driven storms and floods are growing more severe. Colleges and universities that once relied on federal recovery dollars are now being forced to absorb more of the financial burden themselves—whether through state appropriations, private insurance, or higher tuition. In practice, this means students and working families will bear much of the cost of rebuilding.
Meanwhile, contradictions continue to pile up. Camp Mystic, a corporate retreat space that hosts gatherings for university-affiliated leaders, has become a symbol of institutional hypocrisy: universities stage climate conferences and sustainability summits while maintaining financial and cultural ties to industries and donors accelerating the crisis. These contradictions erode trust in higher education’s role as a credible leader on climate.
Climate disruption does not occur in isolation. HEI’s essay Let’s Pretend We Didn’t See It Coming...Again examined how higher education is entangled with a debt-driven economy vulnerable to collapse. With more than $1.7 trillion in student loans, heavy reliance on speculative finance, and partnerships with debt-financed ventures, universities are already positioned on fragile ground. Climate change adds another layer of instability to institutions already at risk.
Taken together, these trends describe a sector moving into uncertain waters. Rising seas threaten campuses directly. Digital networks consume scarce resources. FEMA funding is shrinking. Denial masquerades as academic debate. Debt burdens and speculative finance amplify risks. Universities that continue to expand without accounting for these realities may find themselves not only unprepared but complicit in the crisis.
HEI will continue to investigate these issues, tracking which institutions adapt responsibly and which remain locked in denial and contradiction.
Across American higher education, labor rights have been under sustained pressure for decades. Adjunct faculty and contingent academic workers face precarious employment conditions, stagnant pay, and eroding protections. Yet when systemic critiques are raised, elite university presidents often reframe the discussion, narrowing structural problems into manageable, apolitical talking points.
Technocratic Deflection
Presidents frequently recast labor issues in neutral managerial terms:
Union suppression = “workforce modernization”
Adjunct exploitation = “budgetary flexibility”
Student debt peonage = “innovative financing”
By reducing structural injustices to administrative concerns, they strip these issues of political and historical significance, making them easier to manage and harder to challenge.
The “Hands Tied” Defense
When confronted with inequities, presidents often insist:
“Declining appropriations leave us no choice.”
“Our boards demand fiscal responsibility.”
“Market forces shape our decisions.”
This logic frames systemic oppression as inevitable, technical, and apolitical — a narrative that protects institutional power while masking the long-term consequences for faculty and students.
Vocabulary Capture
Elite leaders control the conversation through language:
Critics say “union suppression”; presidents say “workforce modernization.”
Activists say “racial exclusion”; presidents invoke “mission fit.”
Students call it “robocolleges” or corporatization; presidents speak of “scaling access.”
By changing the words, they change the battlefield, making systemic critique appear radical, ill-informed, or irrelevant.
Evasion of History
Historical context is often sidelined:
Universities rarely acknowledge their role in breaking faculty strikes or adopting corporate governance models.
They deflect from the impact of elite endowments and funding structures in deepening inequality.
Decisions that shape labor, access, and academic priorities are rarely recognized as part of a decades-long neoliberal project.
Case Studies
1. Columbia University's $221 Million Settlement
In a notable instance, Columbia University agreed to a $221 million settlement with the Trump administration, restoring previously cut federal research funding. While the university emphasized its continued autonomy in admissions and hiring decisions, the settlement included oversight on issues such as merit-based hiring and campus free speech. This move sparked backlash from faculty who viewed it as political interference in academic governance .
2. Harvard University's Response to Federal Pressure
Harvard University faced scrutiny from the Trump administration over alleged failure to combat antisemitism. In response, Harvard President Alan Garber pledged cooperation with federal demands but faced criticism for lacking a strong defense of academic independence. Administrative actions, including suspensions of pro-Palestinian programs, heightened faculty unease and raised concerns about potential political interference in academic institutions .
3. The 2023 Rutgers University Strike
At Rutgers University, faculty and graduate student workers participated in a strike demanding increased salaries, job security, and equal pay for equal work. The strike, involving over 9,000 staff members and 67,000 students, was suspended after a tentative agreement for across-the-board salary increases was reached. This action highlighted the growing mobilization of contingent faculty and the challenges they face in advocating for better working conditions .
The Veritas Problem
Elite institutions claim Veritas — truth — but their leaders practice selective blindness. They respond to criticism in managerial jargon, policing language, and rendering systemic injustices invisible within the institution.
Across campuses nationwide, the strategy is consistent: narrow the conversation, maintain the appearance of neutrality, and protect the interests of trustees, donors, and corporate partners — all while structural crises of labor, debt, and inequality continue unchecked.
Sources:
"Columbia agrees $221mn settlement with Trump administration" – Financial Times, August 2025
"Harvard faculty organize amid anxiety university will capitulate to Trump" – The Guardian, April 2025
"2023 Rutgers University strike" – Wikipedia, June 2023
University of California (UC) President James Milliken has sounded an alarm over what he calls one of the “gravest threats” in the institution’s 157-year history. In testimony before state lawmakers, Milliken outlined a looming financial crisis sparked by sweeping federal funding cuts and unprecedented political demands from the Trump administration.
The UC system — spanning 10 campuses, five medical centers, and serving hundreds of thousands of students and patients — receives more than $17 billion in federal funds annually. That includes $9.9 billion in Medicare and Medicaid reimbursements, $5.7 billion in research dollars, and $1.9 billion in student financial aid. According to Milliken, much of this funding is now at risk.
Already, UCLA alone has seen more than $500 million in research grants cut. On top of that, the administration has levied a $1.2 billion penalty against the system, alleging that UCLA and other campuses failed to adequately address antisemitism.
“These shortfalls, combined with the administration’s punitive demands, could devastate our university and cause enormous harm to our students, our patients, and all Californians,” Milliken warned. He has requested at least $4 to $5 billion annually in state aid to blunt the impact of federal cuts.
More Than a Budget Fight
The Trump administration has tied federal funding to sweeping political conditions, including:
Release of detailed admissions data.
Restrictions on protests.
Elimination of race-related scholarships and diversity hiring.
A ban on gender-affirming care for minors at UCLA health centers.
Critics argue that these conditions amount to political blackmail, undermining both academic freedom and healthcare access.
California Governor Gavin Newsom denounced the federal measures as “extortion” and “a page out of the authoritarian playbook.” Thirty-three state legislators urged UC leaders “not to back down in the face of this political shakedown.”
Protesters in the Crossfire
Yet while UC leaders frame themselves as defenders of free inquiry, many students and faculty who have protested war, racism, and inequality have found themselves silenced by the very system that now claims victimhood.
2011 UC Davis Occupy Protest: Images of police casually pepper-spraying seated students went viral, symbolizing the university’s harsh response to peaceful dissent.
2019 UC Santa Cruz Graduate Worker Strike: Graduate students demanding a cost-of-living adjustment were fired, evicted, or disciplined rather than heard.
2022 UC Irvine Labor Strikes: Workers organizing for fair pay and job security faced heavy-handed tactics from administrators.
2023–24 Gaza Encampments: UC campuses, including UCLA and UC Berkeley, called in police to dismantle student encampments protesting U.S. and UC complicity in Israel’s war in Gaza. Dozens of students were arrested, suspended, or disciplined for their participation.
These incidents show a pattern: UC celebrates academic freedom in official statements, but clamps down when protests threaten its ties to corporate donors, political interests, or foreign governments.
As one Berkeley student put it during the Gaza protests: “The university claims it’s under attack from Trump’s censorship — but it censors us every single day.”
UC’s Own Accountability Problem
Beyond silencing dissent, UC has been unresponsive to many Californians on broader issues: rising tuition, limited in-state enrollment, reliance on low-paid adjuncts, and partnerships with corporations that profit from student debt and labor precarity. For many working families, UC feels less like a public institution and more like an elite research enterprise serving industry and politics.
This contradiction makes the current crisis double-edged. UC is indeed being targeted by the Trump administration, but it also faces a legitimacy crisis at home.
Looking Ahead
Milliken, who took office as UC President on August 1, is lobbying state lawmakers to commit billions annually to offset federal cuts. But UC’s survival may hinge not only on political deals in Sacramento, but also on whether it can rebuild trust with the Californians it has too often sidelined — including the protesters and whistleblowers who have been warning for years about its drift away from public accountability.
The larger struggle, then, is not just UC versus Washington. It is about whether a public university system can still live up to its mission of serving the people — not corporations, not politicians, and not the wealthy few who hold the purse strings.
Sources:
University of California Office of the President
California State Legislature records
Statements from Gov. Gavin Newsom
U.S. Department of Justice communications
Higher Education Inquirer archives on UC protest suppression and public accountability
Coverage of UC Davis pepper-spray incident (2011), UC Santa Cruz COLA strike (2019), UC Irvine labor strikes (2022), Gaza encampment crackdowns (2023–24)
Every fall, the job search season kicks into high gear. For many academics—graduate students, contingent faculty, and even mid-career professionals—the process is exhausting. Updating résumés, scouring job boards, crafting cover letters, and collecting references has become a ritual of stress. Career guides and webinars offer tips, but they rarely address the structural issues that make academic job hunting such a fraught experience.
The Chronicle of Higher Education is marketing its own “September Collection” of advice: five free articles on managing applications, jump-starting an industry job search, applying outside academe, and coping with the increasingly common “tandem job search” faced by Ph.D. couples. On the surface, this content promises guidance and expert insight. Yet beneath the tips lies a deeper reality: academia’s labor market is in crisis.
The Disappearing Job Market
Managing job applications has become an overwhelming task because the number of secure academic positions has shrunk dramatically. Tenure-track lines are scarce, and adjunctification has normalized poverty wages and instability for tens of thousands of scholars. According to the American Association of University Professors (AAUP), three out of four faculty positions are now contingent—part-time, non-tenure-track, or adjunct. Many of these jobs pay less than minimum wage once preparation, grading, and commuting are factored in.
Meanwhile, universities continue to produce Ph.D.s at record levels, ensuring a glut of qualified applicants for every rare tenure-track posting. The advice to “manage your applications” often masks this reality: candidates are competing for scraps in a system that treats intellectual labor as disposable.
Beyond the Ivory Tower: Exits and Exile
Several of the Chronicle’s highlighted articles focus on leaving academia altogether. Job seekers are told how to “jump-start” industry careers or apply for jobs “outside of academe.” This is not just pragmatic advice—it reflects a broader shift.
Universities have become credential mills, producing far more advanced degree holders than the system can absorb. In 2022, the U.S. awarded over 55,000 doctoral degrees—yet fewer than 10,000 tenure-track positions opened nationwide. The so-called “two-body problem” for dual-academic couples has become a euphemism for professional exile: one or both partners must give up their academic careers or live apart indefinitely.
Debt and Desperation
The situation is compounded by the student debt crisis, which affects graduate students as well as undergraduates. Graduate borrowing accounts for 40% of all federal student loan debt, often exceeding $100,000 for Ph.D.s in the humanities and social sciences. Job seekers enter the market already burdened with debt, only to find themselves competing for contingent jobs that pay less than $25,000 a year.
In contrast, BRICS countries such as China are producing graduates without debt, often tuition-free, and with state-backed pathways into science, engineering, and medical professions. The U.S. system, by comparison, looks less like a ladder of opportunity and more like a trap of financial servitude.
The Role of Billionaires
Adding insult to injury, billionaire donors and corporate interests increasingly shape U.S. higher education. From the Koch network funding business and policy schools, to tech billionaires investing in “disruptive” ed-tech, private wealth dictates academic priorities. The result is a university system aligned with corporate needs—STEM fields for industry pipelines, financialized research, and administrative expansion—while the humanities and social sciences are starved of funding.
Job seekers are told to adapt to this market logic. Attend career fairs. Build transferable skills. Manage stress. But the real dysfunction lies in the fact that billionaires and trustees wield more power over universities than faculty and students combined.
From Individual Struggle to Collective Fight
The Chronicle’s Fall Virtual Career Fair, scheduled for October 15th, is framed as a solution: networking, résumé reviews, stress management. Yet these offerings treat the problem as one of individual navigation, not systemic collapse.
If there is to be resistance, it will not come from résumé workshops or LinkedIn polls about “workplace dysfunction.” It will come from collective struggle: graduate unions, adjunct organizing, debt strikes, and alliances across borders. Just as workers once had to fight internationally against the globalized forces of capital, academic workers will need to see their struggle as more than seasonal job stress.
The job search season is not just a stressful ritual—it is a symptom of a broken, financialized system. For many, the harsh truth is this: the problem isn’t your résumé. It’s the university itself.
Sources
American Association of University Professors (AAUP), The Annual Report on the Economic Status of the Profession, 2022–23
National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), Doctor’s Degrees Conferred by Post-Secondary Institutions
Brookings Institution, Graduate Student Debt: Dimensions and Policy Implications, 2020
Coalition on the Academic Workforce, A Portrait of Part-Time Faculty Members, 2012
The Chronicle of Higher Education, Career Resources and Virtual Fairs, 2024
Inside Higher Ed, Adjuncts and the Academic Labor Crisis
The Trump administration, since returning to power in 2025, has escalated attacks on the foundations of democracy, the environment, world peace, human rights, and intellectual inquiry. While the administration has marketed itself as “America First,” its policies have more often meant profits for the ultra-wealthy, repression for the working majority, and escalating dangers for the planet.
Below is a running list of 100 of the most dangerous actions and policies—a record of how quickly a government can dismantle hard-won protections for people, peace, and the planet.
I. Attacks on the Environment
Withdrawing from the Paris Climate Agreement—again.
Dismantling the EPA’s authority to regulate greenhouse gases.
Opening federal lands and national parks to oil, gas, and mining leases.
Gutting protections for endangered species.
Allowing coal companies to dump mining waste in rivers and streams.
Rolling back vehicle fuel efficiency standards.
Subsidizing fossil fuel companies while defunding renewable energy programs.
Suppressing climate science at federal agencies.
Greenlighting pipelines that threaten Indigenous lands and water supplies.
Promoting offshore drilling in fragile ecosystems.
Weakening Clean Water Act enforcement.
Dismantling environmental justice programs that protect poor communities.
Politicizing NOAA and censoring weather/climate warnings.
Undermining international climate cooperation at the UN.
Allowing pesticides banned in Europe to return to U.S. farms.
II. Undermining World Peace and Global Stability
Threatening military action against Iran, Venezuela, and North Korea.
Expanding the nuclear arsenal instead of pursuing arms control.
Cutting funding for diplomacy and the State Department.
Withdrawing from the World Health Organization (WHO).
Weakening NATO alliances with inflammatory rhetoric.
Escalating drone strikes and loosening rules of engagement.
Providing cover for authoritarian leaders worldwide.
Walking away from peace negotiations in the Middle East.
Blocking humanitarian aid to Gaza, Yemen, and other war-torn areas.
Expanding weapons sales to Saudi Arabia despite human rights abuses.
Using tariffs and sanctions as blunt instruments against allies.
Politicizing intelligence briefings to justify military adventurism.
Abandoning refugee protections and asylum agreements.
Treating climate refugees as security threats.
Reducing U.S. participation in the United Nations.
III. Attacks on Human Rights and the Rule of Law
Expanding family separation policies at the border.
Targeting asylum seekers for indefinite detention.
Militarizing immigration enforcement with National Guard troops.
Attacking reproductive rights and defunding women’s health programs.
Rolling back LGBTQ+ protections in schools and workplaces.
Reinstating bans on transgender service members in the military.
Undermining voting rights through purges and voter ID laws.
Packing the courts with extremist judges hostile to civil rights.
Weaponizing the Justice Department against political opponents.
Expanding surveillance powers with little oversight.
Encouraging police crackdowns on protests.
Expanding use of federal troops in U.S. cities.
Weakening consent decrees against abusive police departments.
Refusing to investigate hate crimes tied to far-right violence.
Deporting long-term immigrants with no criminal record.
IV. Attacks on Domestic Peace and Tranquility
Encouraging militias and extremist groups with dog whistles.
Using inflammatory rhetoric that stokes racial and religious hatred.
Equating journalists with “enemies of the people.”
Cutting funds for community-based violence prevention.
Politicizing natural disaster relief.
Treating peaceful protests as national security threats.
Expanding federal use of facial recognition surveillance.
Undermining local control with federal overreach.
Stigmatizing entire religious and ethnic groups.
Promoting conspiracy theories from the presidential podium.
Encouraging violent crackdowns on labor strikes.
Undermining pandemic preparedness and response.
Allowing corporations to sidestep workplace safety rules.
Shutting down diversity and inclusion training across agencies.
Promoting vigilante violence through online platforms.
V. Attacks on Labor Rights and the Working Class
Weakening the Department of Labor’s enforcement of wage theft.
Blocking attempts to raise the federal minimum wage.
Undermining collective bargaining rights for federal workers.
Supporting right-to-work laws across states.
Allowing employers to misclassify gig workers as “independent contractors.”
Blocking new OSHA safety standards.
Expanding exemptions for overtime pay.
Weakening rules on child labor in agriculture.
Cutting unemployment benefits during economic downturns.
Favoring union-busting corporations in federal contracts.
Rolling back protections for striking workers.
Encouraging outsourcing of jobs overseas.
Weakening enforcement of anti-discrimination laws in workplaces.
Cutting funding for worker retraining programs.
Promoting unpaid internships as a “pathway” to jobs.
VI. Attacks on Intellectualism and Knowledge
Defunding the Department of Education in favor of privatization.
Attacking public universities as “woke indoctrination centers.”
Promoting for-profit colleges with predatory practices.
Restricting student loan forgiveness programs.
Undermining Title IX protections for sexual harassment.
Defunding libraries and public broadcasting.
Politicizing scientific research grants.
Firing federal scientists who contradict administration narratives.
Suppressing research on gun violence.
Censoring federal climate and environmental data.
Promoting creationism and Christian nationalism in schools.
Expanding surveillance of student activists.
Encouraging book bans in schools and libraries.
Undermining accreditation standards for higher education.
Attacking historians who challenge nationalist myths.
Cutting humanities funding in favor of military research.
Encouraging political litmus tests for professors.
Treating journalists as combatants in a “culture war.”
Promoting AI-driven “robocolleges” with no faculty oversight.
Gutting federal student aid programs.
Allowing corporate donors to dictate university policy.
Discouraging international students from studying in the U.S.
Criminalizing whistleblowers who reveal government misconduct.
Promoting conspiracy theories over peer-reviewed science.
President Donald Trump calls himself a master of deals and a builder of wealth. But a closer look at his economic record shows otherwise. What passes as Trumpenomics is not a coherent strategy but a dangerous cocktail of trickle-down economics, tariffs, authoritarian force, and outright deception. The emperor struts confidently, yet his economic clothes are invisible.
Trickle-Down Economics with Tariffs
Trump’s policies leaned heavily on Arthur Laffer’s supply-side theories, promising that tax cuts for corporations and the wealthy would lift all boats. The 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act slashed the corporate tax rate from 35% to 21%, showering disproportionate benefits on the top 1%. The Congressional Budget Office found that by 2025, households making under $30,000 would actually see tax increases, while millionaires reaped permanent benefits.
At the same time, Trump imposed tariffs on China and other trade partners—despite claiming to be a free-market champion. Tariffs raised consumer prices at home, effectively acting as a hidden tax on working families. The Federal Reserve estimated that U.S. consumers and businesses bore nearly the full cost of Trump’s tariffs, with average households paying hundreds of dollars more each year for basic goods.
Demanding Tributes from Other Nations
Trump approached international trade less as economic policy and more as a tribute system. Nations that purchased U.S. arms, invested in Trump-friendly industries, or flattered his ego received preferential treatment. Those who did not were threatened with tariffs, sanctions, or military abandonment. His decision to reduce funding to NATO while deepening ties with Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the UAE reflected this transactional worldview.
Altering Economic Data and Scapegoating the Poor
Trump consistently attempted to alter or spin economic data. When unemployment spiked during COVID-19, his administration pressured agencies to downplay the crisis. In some cases, career economists reported being silenced or reassigned for refusing to misrepresent figures.
When numbers could not be manipulated, scapegoats were manufactured. Trump blamed immigrants, people of color, and the poor for economic stagnation, while targeting Medicaid recipients and the homeless as symbols of “decay.” Instead of addressing structural problems, his rhetoric diverted public anger downward, away from billionaires and corporations.
Lie, Cheat, Steal
Lawsuits and corruption have always been central to Trump’s business empire, and they carried over into his economic governance. From funneling taxpayer money into Trump-owned properties to bending trade policy for donors, his approach blurred the line between public service and private gain. The New York Times documented that Trump paid just $750 in federal income tax in 2016 and 2017, even as he claimed to be a champion of the American worker.
Fourth Generation Warfare, AI, and Taiwan
Trump’s economic worldview also bleeds into Fourth Generation Warfare (4GW)—the mixing of political, economic, and psychological operations. His chaotic handling of AI development, threats over Taiwan, and erratic China policy destabilized global markets. Uncertainty became a feature, not a bug: allies and rivals alike never knew if Trump’s economic positions were bargaining tools, retaliations, or improvisations.
Authoritarianism at Home and Abroad
At home, Trumpenomics relied on force and intimidation. He threatened to deploy the National Guard against protesters, treating dissent as an economic threat to be neutralized. Abroad, he backed Netanyahu’s expansionist policies while cutting aid to Europe, effectively reshaping U.S. alliances around authoritarian partners willing to pay for loyalty.
Hostility Toward Higher Education
Trump also targeted higher education, cutting research funding, undermining student protections, and ridiculing universities as bastions of “elitism.” The move was both political and economic: by weakening critical institutions, he expanded the space for propaganda and disinformation to thrive.
The Emperor’s New Clothes
Beneath the spectacle, Trumpenomics have left the US more unequal, more indebted, and more divided. The federal deficit ballooned by nearly $7.8 trillion during his first term—before COVID-19 relief spending. Inequality widened: by 2020, the richest 1% controlled more than 30% of the nation’s wealth, while median household income gains evaporated. Tariffs have raised costs, tax cuts hollowed out revenues, and corruption flourished.
Trump’s economy was not built on strength but on illusion. Like the emperor in Hans Christian Andersen’s fable, Trump strutted in garments only his loyalists claimed to see. For everyone else, the truth was painfully visible: the emperor had no clothes.
Sources
Congressional Budget Office, “The Distributional Effects of the 2017 Tax Cuts” (2018)
Federal Reserve Board, “Effects of Tariffs on U.S. Consumers” (2019)
The New York Times, “Trump’s Taxes Show Chronic Losses and Years of Income Tax Avoidance” (Sept. 27, 2020)
David Cay Johnston, It’s Even Worse Than You Think: What the Trump Administration Is Doing to America (2018)
Joseph Stiglitz, “Trump’s Economic Nonsense,” Project Syndicate (2019)
At the Higher Education Inquirer, we don’t chase prestige. We don’t cater to elite donors, corporate sponsors, or political kingmakers. We don’t worship at the altar of endowments, football stadiums, or shiny branding campaigns. Our compass is set firmly toward truth, justice, and equity—guided by one unwavering principle: we are students first.
We are students of systems—unraveling the machinery of higher education that too often works against the very people it claims to serve. We study the credential mills, the loan sharks in nonprofit clothing, the unaccountable university bureaucracies, and the hollow promises of prosperity dangled before vulnerable populations. We investigate how institutions extract billions from working-class families while underpaying adjuncts and laying off staff. And we do it without fear or favor.
But we are also students in the human sense. We learn from whistleblowers, from former for-profit enrollees drowning in debt, from adjuncts scraping by without healthcare, and from young people who’ve had to abandon their dreams because the system was never built for them in the first place. We seek out the voices that elite media too often ignore—because those voices contain the lessons worth learning.
Unlike many outlets that write about students as case studies or marketing tools, we stand with them. We ask: Who gets excluded from access and opportunity? Who profits from their debt? Who benefits when college becomes more about brand than learning, more about sorting than liberating?
When we say we are students first, we mean we are always learning—about how inequality is produced and reproduced through policy, through finance, and through institutional neglect. We mean we are always listening—especially to those who’ve been burned by the system. And we mean we are always questioning—especially the orthodoxy that says “college equals success,” no matter the cost.
Being students first also means accountability. To ourselves, and to those we cover. We don’t pretend to have all the answers. We don't hide behind false neutrality. But we do our homework. We cite our sources. We follow the money. And we take sides—on the side of debtors, exploited workers, and the people pushed to the margins.
So when others ask where we stand in the crumbling landscape of higher education, our answer is simple:
At HEI, we are students first. And we stand with those the system has left behind.
Turning Point USA (TPUSA), founded in 2012 by Charlie Kirk, has become a major player in campus conservatism. The organization claims over 3,000 high school and college chapters across the United States and has raised millions of dollars from right-leaning donors. TPUSA’s presence on campuses and its media footprint have drawn attention from students, faculty, and researchers, especially for its combative style and use of public shaming tactics.
This article explores TPUSA's growth and influence in the context of social psychology—specifically, the theory of the authoritarian personality—and its relevance to U.S. campus politics.
Organizational Growth and Influence
According to TPUSA’s own data and reporting by The Chronicle of Higher Education and The New York Times, the group had more than 250 paid staffers and a $55 million budget in 2021. Its funding has come from major conservative foundations including DonorsTrust, the Bradley Foundation, and the Ed Uihlein Family Foundation. TPUSA also hosts national events like “AmericaFest,” which attract thousands of young conservatives.
TPUSA’s "Professor Watchlist," launched in 2016, lists faculty members it accuses of promoting “leftist propaganda.” Critics, including the American Association of University Professors, argue that this practice endangers academic freedom and targets scholars without due process.
The Authoritarian Personality Framework
The authoritarian personality theory originated with The Authoritarian Personality (1950), a study led by Theodor Adorno and his colleagues at UC Berkeley. The study introduced the F-scale (Fascism scale), which measured tendencies toward submission to authority, aggression against perceived outsiders, and conformity to traditional norms.
Subsequent research has built on and modified this theory. Political scientists like Stanley Feldman and Karen Stenner have connected authoritarian predispositions with support for strong leaders, intolerance of ambiguity, and punitive attitudes toward perceived rule-breakers. In recent decades, these traits have been linked to political alignment, especially in times of perceived threat or instability.
TPUSA Messaging and Authoritarian Traits
TPUSA frequently uses binary language in its public messaging—casting issues as good versus evil, and labeling opponents as “radical” or “anti-American.” At national events, founder Charlie Kirk has encouraged confrontational activism. At the 2022 Student Action Summit, he urged attendees to "go on offense" against what he called the "woke mob."
In content analysis of TPUSA social media, researchers at the University of North Carolina (2021) noted recurring themes of authority, nationalism, and threat framing—elements often associated with authoritarian communication. TPUSA’s criticism of universities, professors, and diversity programs reflects a view of institutions as hostile or illegitimate, which research suggests can align with authoritarian worldviews.
While not all TPUSA supporters endorse authoritarian values, survey research (such as the Voter Study Group’s 2018 and 2020 datasets) shows that authoritarian-leaning respondents are more likely to approve of restricting campus speech, favor military-style leadership, and distrust pluralistic norms. These attitudes can map closely onto TPUSA’s policy priorities and media strategy.
Implications for Higher Education
TPUSA’s presence on campuses has prompted reactions from faculty senates and student governments, with some institutions debating whether the group’s tactics fall within acceptable norms of political discourse. Several chapters have been suspended or disciplined by universities for alleged harassment or violations of student conduct codes.
Data from the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) show that campus conflicts over political speech have increased in the last decade, with cases involving TPUSA contributing to this trend.
The broader issue is not whether conservative students should organize, but how political movements use fear, threat narratives, and loyalty to authority to shape behavior. Researchers at the University of Toronto and New York University (Stenner & Haidt, 2017) have found that political polarization increases when authoritarian cues are amplified—especially when groups frame disagreement as dangerous.
Tactics of Fascism
Turning Point USA represents a well-funded and expanding force in campus politics. While it promotes conservative positions, its tactics—particularly public shaming, threat-based messaging, and hierarchical appeals—reflect elements associated with the authoritarian personality as described in decades of psychological and political research.
The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to examine the role of political organizations in shaping student discourse, and the broader consequences for democratic institutions, academic inquiry, and civil society.
Sources
Adorno, T. W., Frenkel-Brunswik, E., Levinson, D. J., & Sanford, R. N. (1950). The Authoritarian Personality. Harper & Brothers.
Stenner, K. (2005). The Authoritarian Dynamic. Cambridge University Press.
Stenner, K. & Haidt, J. (2017). “Authoritarianism Is Not a Momentary Madness.” In Can It Happen Here?, edited by Cass Sunstein. Dey Street Books.
Feldman, S. (2003). “Enforcing Social Conformity: A Theory of Authoritarianism.” Political Psychology, 24(1), 41–74.
The Chronicle of Higher Education. “Turning Point USA’s Rapid Campus Expansion.” October 2021.
The New York Times. “How Turning Point USA Built a Youth Army.” December 2020.
UNC Center for Information, Technology, and Public Life. “Authoritarian Messaging and Youth Political Mobilization.” 2021.
Voter Study Group. Democracy Fund Survey Reports, 2018–2020.
American Association of University Professors (AAUP). “Professor Watchlist Threatens Academic Freedom.” Statement, 2016.
FIRE (Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression). Campus Free Speech Reports, 2010–2023.
