Trump’s Higher Education Crackdown: Culture War in a Cap and Gown

In a recent flurry of executive orders, former President Donald Trump has escalated his administration’s long-running war on American higher education, targeting college accreditation processes, foreign donations to universities, and elite institutions like Harvard and Columbia. Framed as a campaign for accountability and meritocracy, these actions are in reality part of a broader effort to weaponize public distrust, reinforce ideological purity tests, and strong-arm colleges into political obedience.

But even if Trump's crusade were rooted in good faith—which it clearly is not—his chosen mechanism for “fixing” higher education, the accreditation system, is already deeply flawed. It’s not just that Trump is using a broken tool for political ends—it's that the tool itself has long been part of the problem.

Accreditation: Already a Low Bar

Accreditation in U.S. higher education is often mistaken by the public as a sign of quality. In reality, it’s often a rubber stamp—granted by private agencies funded by the very schools they evaluate. “Yet in practice,” write economists David Deming and David Figlio, “accreditors—who are paid by the institutions themselves—appear to be ineffectual at best, much like the role of credit rating agencies during the recent financial crisis.”

As a watchdog of America’s subprime colleges and a monitor of the ongoing College Meltdown, the Higher Education Inquirer has long reported that institutional accreditation is no sign of academic quality. Worse, it is frequently used by subprime colleges as a veneer of legitimacy to mask predatory practices, inflated tuition, and low academic standards.

The Higher Learning Commission (HLC), the nation’s largest accreditor, monitors nearly a thousand institutions—ranging from prestigious schools like the University of Chicago and University of Michigan to for-profit, scandal-plagued operations such as Colorado Technical University, DeVry University, University of Phoenix, and Walden University. These subprime colleges receive billions annually in federal student aid—money that flows through an accreditation pipeline that’s barely regulated and heavily compromised.

On the three pillars of accreditation—compliance, quality assurance, and quality improvement—the Higher Learning Commission often fails spectacularly when it comes to subprime institutions. That’s not just a bug in the system; it’s the system working as designed.

Who Watches the Watchers?

Accreditors like the HLC receive dues from member institutions, giving them a vested interest in keeping their customers viable, no matter how exploitative their practices may be. Despite objections from the American Association of University Professors, the HLC has accredited for-profit colleges since 1977 and ethically questionable operations for nearly two decades.

As Mary A. Burgan, then General Secretary of the AAUP, put it bluntly in 2000:

"I really worry about the intrusion of the profit motive in the accreditation system. Some of them, as I have said, will accredit a ham sandwich..."

[Image: From CHEA: Higher Learning Commission dues for member colleges. Over the last 30 years, HLC has received millions of dollars from subprime schools like the University of Phoenix.]

The Council for Higher Education Accreditation (CHEA), which oversees accreditors, acts more like a trade association than a watchdog. Meanwhile, the U.S. Department of Education—the only federal entity with oversight responsibility—has done little to ensure quality or accountability. Under the Trump-DeVos regime, the Department actively dismantled what little regulatory framework existed, rolling back Obama-era protections that aimed to curb predatory schools and improve transparency.

In 2023, an internal investigation revealed that the Department of Education was failing to properly monitor accreditors—yet Trump’s solution is to hand even more power to this broken apparatus while demanding it serve political ends.

Harvard: Not a Victim, But a Gatekeeper of the Elite

While Trump's attacks on Harvard are rooted in personal and political animus, it's important not to portray the university as a defenseless bastion of the common good. Harvard is already deeply entrenched in elite power structures—economically, socially, and politically.

The university’s admissions policies have long favored legacy applicants, children of donors, and the ultra-wealthy. It has one of the largest endowments in the world—over $50 billion—yet its efforts to serve working-class and marginalized students remain modest in proportion to its vast resources.

Harvard has produced more Wall Street bankers, U.S. presidents, and Supreme Court justices than any other institution. Its graduates populate the upper echelons of the corporate, political, and media elite. In many ways, Harvard is the establishment Trump claims to rail against—even if his own policies often reinforce that very establishment.

Harvard is not leading a revolution in equity or access. Rather, it polishes the credentials of those already destined to lead, reinforcing a hierarchy that leaves most Americans—including working-class and first-generation students—on the outside looking in.

The Silence on Legacy Admissions

While Trump rails against elite universities in the name of “meritocracy,” there is a glaring omission in the conversation: the entrenched unfairness of legacy admissions. These policies—where applicants with familial ties to alumni receive preferential treatment—are among the most blatant violations of meritocratic ideals. Yet neither Trump’s executive orders nor the broader political discourse dare to address them.

Legacy admissions are a quiet but powerful engine of privilege, disproportionately benefiting white, wealthy students and preserving generational inequality. At institutions like Harvard, Yale, and Princeton, legacy applicants are admitted at significantly higher rates than the general pool, even when controlling for academic credentials. This practice rewards lineage over talent and undermines the very idea of equal opportunity that higher education claims to uphold.

Despite bipartisan rhetoric about fairness and access, few politicians—Democratic or Republican—have challenged the legitimacy of legacy preferences. It’s a testament to how deeply intertwined elite institutions are with the political and economic establishment. And it’s a reminder that the war on higher education is not about fixing inequalities—it’s about reshaping the system to serve different masters.

A Hypocritical Power Grab

Trump’s newfound concern with educational “results” is laced with hypocrisy. The former president’s own venture into higher education—Trump University—was a grift that ended in legal disgrace and financial restitution to defrauded students. Now, Trump is posing as the savior of academic merit, while promoting an ideologically-driven overhaul of the very system that allowed scams like his to thrive.

By focusing on elite universities, Trump exploits populist resentment while ignoring the real scandal: that billions in public funds are siphoned off by institutions with poor student outcomes and high loan default rates—many of them protected by the very accrediting agencies he now claims to reform.

Conclusion: Political Theater, Not Policy

Trump's latest actions are not reforms—they're retribution. His executive orders target symbolic elites, not systemic rot. They turn accreditation into a partisan tool while leaving the worst actors untouched—or even empowered.

Meanwhile, elite institutions like Harvard remain complicit in maintaining a class hierarchy that benefits the powerful, even as they protest their innocence in today’s political battles.

Real accountability in higher education would mean cracking down on predatory schools, reforming or replacing failed accreditors, and restoring rigorous federal oversight. But this administration isn't interested in cleaning up the swamp—it’s repurposing the muck for its own ends.

The Higher Education Inquirer remains committed to pulling back the curtain on these abuses—no matter where they come from or how well they are disguised.

We have met the enemy...

Class conflict has always been woven into the fabric of American higher education. The struggle over access, affordability, and control of knowledge production has long pitted economic elites against working-class and middle-class students, faculty, and staff. Since the 1960s, these tensions have only deepened, exacerbated by policy shifts that have served to entrench inequality rather than dismantle it.

The 1960s marked a critical turning point in the political battle over higher education. Ronald Reagan’s war on the University of California system while he was governor set the tone for a broader conservative backlash against public higher education, which had been expanding to accommodate the postwar baby boom and increasing calls for racial and economic justice. Reagan’s attacks on free tuition and student activism foreshadowed decades of policies designed to limit public investment in higher education while encouraging privatization and corporate influence.

Since the 1970s, economic inequality in the US has grown dramatically, and higher education has been both a battleground and a casualty in this ongoing class war. Today, the sector is experiencing a long-running meltdown, with no signs of reversal. The following key issues illustrate the breadth of the crisis:

Educated Underclass and Underemployment

The promise of higher education as a pathway to economic security has eroded. A growing segment of college graduates, particularly those from working-class backgrounds, find themselves in precarious employment, often saddled with student debt and working jobs that do not require a degree. The rise of the educated underclass reflects a broader trend of economic stratification in the US, where social mobility is increasingly constrained.

Student Loan Debt Crisis

Student loan debt has surpassed $1.7 trillion, shackling millions of Americans to a lifetime of financial insecurity. The cost of higher education has skyrocketed, while wages have stagnated, leaving many borrowers unable to pay off their loans. Rather than addressing this crisis with systemic reform, policymakers have largely chosen half-measures and band-aid solutions that fail to address the structural drivers of student debt.

The Role of Foreign Students in US Higher Education

The influx of international students, particularly from wealthy families abroad, has been used as a revenue stream for cash-strapped universities. While diversity in higher education is valuable, the prioritization of full-tuition-paying international students over domestic students, especially those from working-class backgrounds, reflects a troubling shift in university priorities from public good to profit-seeking.

Academic Labor and Adjunctification

Higher education’s labor crisis is one of its most glaring failures. Over the past several decades, universities have replaced tenured faculty with contingent faculty—adjuncts and lecturers who work for low wages with no job security. This adjunctification has degraded the quality of education while exacerbating economic precarity for instructors, who now make up the majority of faculty positions in the US.

Identity Politics and DEI as a Substitute for Racial Justice

Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives have become a central focus of university policies, yet they often serve as a superficial substitute for genuine racial and economic justice. Originating in part from efforts like those of Ward Connerly in California, DEI programs provide cover for institutions that continue to perpetuate racial and economic inequities, while failing to address core issues such as wealth redistribution, labor rights, and equitable access to higher education.

Privatization of Higher Education

Public funding for universities has declined, and in its place, privatization has surged. Universities have increasingly outsourced services, partnered with corporations, and relied on private donors and endowments to stay afloat. This shift has transformed higher education into a commodity rather than a public good, further marginalizing low-income students and faculty who cannot compete in a system driven by financial interests.

Online Education and the For-Profit Takeover

The rise of online education, fueled by for-profit colleges and Online Program Managers (OPMs), has introduced new layers of exploitation and inequality. While online education promises accessibility, in practice, it has been used to cut costs, lower instructional quality, and extract profits from students—many of whom are left with degrees of questionable value and significant debt.

Alienation and Anomie in Higher Education

As economic pressures mount and academic work becomes more precarious, feelings of alienation and anomie have intensified. Students and faculty alike find themselves disconnected from the traditional mission of higher education as a space for critical thought and democratic engagement. The result is a crisis of meaning that extends beyond the university into broader society.

The Power of Elite Universities

At the other end of the spectrum, elite universities continue to amass enormous endowments, wielding disproportionate influence over higher education policy and urban development. These institutions contribute to gentrification, driving up housing costs in surrounding areas while serving as gatekeepers to elite status. Their governing structures—dominated by trustees from finance, industry, and politics—reflect the interests of the wealthy rather than the needs of students and faculty.

The Way Forward

To avoid the full entrenchment of an oligarchic system, those who hold power in higher education must step aside and allow for systemic transformation. This means prioritizing policies that restore public investment in education, dismantle student debt, protect academic labor, and democratize decision-making processes. The fight for a more just and equitable higher education system is inseparable from the broader struggle for democracy itself.

As history has shown, real change will not come from those at the top—it will come from the courageous efforts of students, faculty, and workers who refuse to accept a system built on exploitation and inequality. The time to act is now.

Canary Mission: A Threat to Democracy on US Campuses

In recent years, the rise of organizations like Canary Mission has raised serious concerns about the state of free speech, academic freedom, and democracy on American college campuses. Operating under the guise of combating anti-Semitism and extremism, Canary Mission’s tactics and objectives have sparked widespread debate about its impact on campus life and the broader implications for democracy in the U.S.

Who is Canary Mission?

Founded in 2015, Canary Mission is a controversial online platform that compiles and publishes dossiers on students, professors, and organizations it deems to be associated with anti-Semitism or support for groups like Hamas or Hezbollah. While it claims to be an anti-extremist initiative, critics argue that Canary Mission’s activities are part of a broader, coordinated effort to silence pro-Palestinian voices, suppress critical discourse, and undermine academic freedom.

The organization's name derives from the "canary in the coal mine" metaphor, suggesting that it is warning the public about supposed dangers related to individuals and groups it monitors. But in practice, Canary Mission’s database often targets individuals solely for their political views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, with no proven ties to terrorism or violence. Students, particularly those involved in pro-Palestinian activism or who criticize Israel’s policies, have found themselves the subject of detailed and often misleading profiles that can haunt their careers.

The impact of Canary Mission is far-reaching: students who appear on the site have reported facing backlash in the form of social ostracism, job discrimination, and even legal action, all because their political activities or beliefs have been highlighted on this platform. Canary Mission’s website claims to provide a “public service” by exposing individuals “advocating for hate,” but its methods often conflate political activism with extremism, which can create an atmosphere of fear and self-censorship within academic circles.

Funding and Connections

Canary Mission’s funding sources remain somewhat opaque, which raises questions about its backing and potential influence. According to investigative reports and public disclosures, it is widely believed that the organization is funded by a network of right-wing pro-Israel groups, including wealthy donors, philanthropic organizations, and think tanks like the Simon Wiesenthal Center and the Foundation for Defense of Democracies. These connections underscore a broader ideological agenda that aligns with certain political interests, particularly those that aim to stifle critical discussions surrounding Israel’s policies and its occupation of Palestine.

The secrecy surrounding its financial backing and the lack of transparency in its operations have led many to draw parallels between Canary Mission and other shadowy entities designed to police speech and dissent. It appears to operate in the shadows, with little public oversight or accountability. This lack of transparency further erodes trust in its motivations and methods.

Undermining Democracy and Free Speech

At its core, Canary Mission's activities are a direct attack on the fundamental principles of democracy: free speech and the right to dissent. In a healthy democracy, universities serve as incubators for diverse ideas, where students are encouraged to debate and challenge ideas without fear of retribution. However, by tracking and blacklisting individuals who express views about Israel, Palestine, or other sensitive geopolitical issues, Canary Mission is chilling free expression on campuses across the country.

The organization’s efforts to publicly shame individuals who participate in peaceful political activism not only threatens their personal and professional futures but also discourages others from speaking out. In effect, it promotes an atmosphere of fear where students are reluctant to engage in legitimate political discourse out of concern for being targeted.

Moreover, Canary Mission’s activities can create a toxic, polarized environment on campuses. By labeling individuals as extremists based on their political positions rather than their actions or behaviors, the organization fuels division and resentment. This undermines the civil discourse that should thrive in academic settings, where ideas are meant to be debated and critically examined. Instead, it creates an echo chamber that only accepts one viewpoint, forcing out dissent and opposition.

The claim that Canary Mission is a controversial organization that undermines democracy on U.S. campuses can be supported by multiple sources from investigative journalists, academic scholars, and civil rights organizations who have analyzed the organization's activities. Here are a few sources that substantiate the concerns regarding Canary Mission:

1. The New York Times (2016) – An article titled "A Shadowy Online Group Is Targeting American Students" highlights the growing concerns about Canary Mission's activities and its impact on free speech on campuses. The piece discusses how students, particularly those involved in pro-Palestinian activism, are being targeted and profiled on the platform, leading to career and personal repercussions.

2. The Electronic Intifada (2016) – This online news platform dedicated to issues surrounding Palestine and Israel published several articles that discuss how Canary Mission disproportionately targets students and activists critical of Israeli policies. The site’s reports argue that the platform acts as an intimidation tool against those who challenge mainstream narratives regarding Israel.

3. The Center for Constitutional Rights (CCR) – The CCR has expressed concern over the chilling effects Canary Mission has on academic freedom and free speech. They highlight how the organization often labels political activism as extremism, without proper evidence, and argues that it is a form of political repression aimed at silencing certain voices.

4. The Forward (2018) – A Jewish publication, The Forward ran a story detailing how Canary Mission had led to the harassment and blacklisting of students, and how its methods were drawing criticism from many who saw it as an attack on academic freedom.

5. Anti-Defamation League (ADL) Reports – While the ADL has supported efforts to combat anti-Semitism, they have also raised concerns about the unintended consequences of organizations like Canary Mission, suggesting that their approach to monitoring student activism can blur the line between legitimate political expression and hate speech.

6. The Guardian (2017) – A Guardian article explored how Canary Mission's controversial practices affected student life, particularly those involved in the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) movement. The article discusses the potential damage to reputations and careers due to Canary Mission's online blacklist.

7. The Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) – The SPLC has been vocal about the ways in which Canary Mission’s tactics align with other surveillance programs aimed at quelling dissent. The SPLC has voiced concern about its potential for misusing "extremism" labels to stifle legitimate political views, undermining democracy and the right to free speech.

Canary Mission's efforts to stifle free speech and intimidate those who hold opposing views on sensitive political issues like the Israeli-Palestinian conflict represent a dangerous erosion of democratic values in American higher education. By using fear, intimidation, and a lack of transparency to silence critical voices, it undermines the very foundation of academic freedom and democratic engagement.

Universities should be spaces where open dialogue and differing opinions are encouraged, not spaces where students are targeted for their political beliefs. As the influence of groups like Canary Mission continues to grow, it is imperative that the broader academic community pushes back against these efforts and defends the principles of free speech, democratic engagement, and intellectual diversity. Without these values, our campuses—and our democracy—will be all the poorer for it.

The Haves and Have Nots of Higher Education and Student Loan Debt

In a move that has raised eyebrows across Washington and beyond, President Donald Trump recently announced a plan to transfer the U.S. Department of Education’s vast student loan portfolio—totaling a staggering $1.8 trillion—to the Small Business Administration (SBA). This bold step is ostensibly designed to streamline the management of federal student loans, but it is also seen by many as the first move in a larger effort to dismantle the Department of Education entirely, reduce federal oversight, and privatize key aspects of the student loan system. Alongside this plan, there are growing discussions about eliminating essential borrower protections, including programs like Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF), Pay As You Earn (PAYE), Income-Contingent Repayment (ICR), and the Borrower Defense to Repayment program, all of which have offered critical relief to millions of students. Additionally, the rollback of Gainful Employment regulations—which were designed to protect students from predatory for-profit institutions—further signals a shift toward private sector control, which has historically benefited lenders over borrowers.

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The Alleged 'Rescue' of the Loan Portfolio

The White House has framed the transfer of the student loan portfolio to the SBA as a necessary step to relieve the Department of Education (ED) of a heavy burden, positioning the SBA as the new “caretaker” of the nation’s student debt. According to President Trump, the SBA—under the leadership of Kelly Loeffler—will now handle the $1.8 trillion student loan portfolio, while the Department of Education focuses on other key educational initiatives.

For some, the move seems like a fresh approach to a problem that has long plagued U.S. higher education: the overwhelming student debt crisis. However, a deeper look into the mechanics of the transfer suggests that this could be the first step toward a far more troubling goal: the dismantling of the federal student loan system and the privatization of debt, a shift that could harm millions of consumers in the process.

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The SBA’s Inexperience with Student Loans

The SBA, traditionally tasked with managing small business loans, lacks the expertise to effectively manage the complex structure of federal student loans, which include income-driven repayment plans, loan forgiveness programs, and various protections for struggling borrowers. With the agency also facing significant staffing cuts, it’s highly unlikely that the SBA will be able to competently handle such a vast and complicated portfolio—especially when 40% of these loans are already in default or behind on payments.

This raises an obvious question: is the SBA being set up to fail? Some insiders suggest that the failure of the SBA to properly manage the student loan portfolio could be deliberate—creating a crisis that would justify selling off the portfolio to private companies, thus privatizing the entire system.

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The Planned Failure: A Strategy for Privatization?

According to several former senior officials within the Department of Education, the transfer of the student loan portfolio to the SBA could be a calculated move to destabilize the federal loan system. The apparent failure of the SBA to manage the loans would then serve as a justification for transferring the loans to the private sector. This mirrors tactics used in other sectors where privatization was pursued under the guise of government inefficiency. The fear is that this move could ultimately lead to for-profit companies taking over the loan system, with borrowers facing higher interest rates, stricter repayment terms, and the loss of essential protections.

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Who Stands to Gain from Privatizing Student Loans?

The shift toward privatizing student loans stands to benefit several key players in the financial and educational sectors, particularly for-profit companies and private lenders who have long pushed for deregulation and profit-driven management of student debt. The primary beneficiaries would include:

1. Private Lenders and Financial Institutions: Banks, investment firms, and loan servicing companies are the most obvious winners in a privatized student loan system. With the federal government stepping back, these entities would gain control over the $1.8 trillion portfolio, allowing them to set higher interest rates, stricter repayment terms, and impose fees on borrowers. This would turn student loans into even more lucrative financial products for the private sector.

2. For-Profit Educational Institutions: For-profit colleges, which often rely on student loans to fund their operations, could also stand to gain. These institutions—many of which have faced significant scrutiny for high tuition costs and poor student outcomes—would benefit from a less regulated environment. Without the Gainful Employment regulations, which were designed to hold these institutions accountable for their job placement and earnings data, they would face fewer restrictions on their recruitment practices and financial dealings, potentially allowing them to continue enrolling students in expensive, low-quality programs.

3. Servicers and Debt Collection Agencies: Loan servicers and debt collection agencies that would likely take over the management of student loans in a privatized system stand to profit greatly. By controlling the servicing of student loans, these companies can increase their fees and aggressively pursue defaulting borrowers, further exacerbating the financial hardship for many students. These entities would benefit from a less regulated environment where the focus would shift toward profitability, often at the expense of borrowers.

4. Political Donors and Lobbyists: Financial institutions and for-profit education providers have historically been major political donors and lobbyists, particularly to policymakers who have pushed for deregulation of student loan systems. Privatization could provide these stakeholders with the opportunity to consolidate their power over the student loan industry, influencing policy decisions in their favor and ensuring continued access to profits from the student loan market.

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A History of Struggles: Lack of Oversight and Privatization Since the 1980s

The idea of privatizing student loans and dismantling federal oversight is not entirely new. In fact, the U.S. student loan system has been struggling for decades due to a lack of oversight and a trend toward privatization dating back to the 1980s. The federal government’s role as a guarantor of student loans—starting with the creation of the Guaranteed Student Loan (GSL) program in the 1960s—was eventually scaled back, leading to a rise in private student loans. As private lenders entered the student loan market, particularly during the 1990s and 2000s, the system became increasingly unregulated, leading to rising debt levels and predatory lending practices.

By the 1980s, the federal government’s reliance on private institutions to handle student loans led to a lack of transparency, accountability, and consumer protections. In particular, private lenders began to offer loans with fewer safeguards, contributing to the explosion of student loan debt and the proliferation of for-profit colleges that preyed on vulnerable students. The government, despite its involvement, increasingly stepped back from actively managing the loan system, leaving students with limited options for relief when they fell into financial distress.

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The Consequences of Deregulation: Elite Colleges and the Growing Educated Underclass

One of the most significant byproducts of the shift toward privatization and deregulation in U.S. higher education has been the growth of a growing educated underclass. While elite colleges have continued to thrive, expanding their endowments and increasing their tuition fees, a large segment of the population is left with a degree and overwhelming debt that fails to deliver on its promise. Over the past several decades, prestigious universities have only gotten wealthier, with many now sitting on endowments of billions of dollars. These institutions benefit from the student loan system, which allows students to take on more debt to afford high tuition costs, all while their wealthy alumni networks and expansive endowments only grow larger.

At the same time, a growing number of students from lower-income backgrounds—many of whom attend for-profit or underfunded public colleges—are graduating with significant debt and few prospects for stable, high-paying careers. This has created a growing “educated underclass,” where graduates with degrees struggle to find employment that pays enough to manage their loan repayment, further exacerbating wealth inequality.

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The Dangers of Future Issues: AI, Automation, and the Loss of Good Jobs

Looking to the future, the privatization of student loans and the increasing burden of student debt could be exacerbated by emerging technological shifts, particularly in the fields of artificial intelligence (AI) and automation. As industries evolve and more jobs become automated, many middle-class careers traditionally accessible to graduates may disappear or evolve into low-wage, low-security positions. This could lead to an even larger divide between the "haves" and "have-nots" in society, where only those with connections or elite educational backgrounds can secure stable, high-paying employment.

For students entering the workforce with massive student loan debt, this would present a troubling scenario where their ability to repay their loans becomes even more difficult as fewer well-paying jobs are available. This, in turn, would increase the financial strain on future generations of students who are already navigating a rapidly changing job market. For many, student loans could become an insurmountable barrier, keeping them trapped in cycles of debt that are impossible to escape.

Moreover, the increasing reliance on private companies to manage student loans, with their focus on profitability, could exacerbate these issues by offering fewer opportunities for income-driven repayment plans or relief options that account for the economic realities of an AI-powered, automation-driven economy. As the job market continues to shrink and evolve, the need for federal programs to support borrowers through tough economic times will only grow.

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The Impact of Eliminating Borrower Protections

The elimination of borrower protections—such as PSLF, PAYE, ICR, and Borrower Defense to Repayment—would significantly worsen the student loan crisis. Public Service Loan Forgiveness, for example, allows individuals working in essential public service careers to receive loan forgiveness after ten years of qualifying payments. Without this program, many public servants would face a lifetime of insurmountable debt. Similarly, income-driven repayment programs allow borrowers to repay loans based on their income, making it easier for those in low-paying fields to manage their debt.

The Borrower Defense to Repayment program provides vital relief to students who were defrauded by their institutions. Without strong enforcement of this program, students may have no recourse to seek relief from predatory schools. The rollback of Gainful Employment regulations could further expose students to the risks of attending for-profit institutions that fail to deliver on their promises.

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The Long-Term Fallout: A Dangerous Precedent

The long-term consequences of privatizing student loans could include exacerbating wealth inequality, widening the racial wealth gap, and creating an economic landscape where education debt is a permanent burden on a generation of students. If privatization moves forward, the financial burden of education will likely become a far more persistent and overwhelming problem, especially for those who can least afford it.

What’s particularly concerning is that in past crises, it’s the elites—wealthy colleges, financial institutions, and large corporations—that have consistently received the bulk of government bailouts. The same institutions that contribute the least to solving the country’s educational inequities continue to benefit from taxpayer-funded relief. If privatization moves forward, we cannot allow the same pattern to repeat itself. The majority of relief should go to those most burdened by student debt, not those who already have the means to navigate the system with ease.

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The Future of Higher Education Debt: A Call to Protect Federal Loan Programs

At the Higher Education Inquirer, we stand in full support of federal student loan forgiveness and repayment programs, including PSLF, PAYE, and ICR, as they offer essential pathways for borrowers, especially public service workers and low-income individuals. These programs provide vital relief to borrowers, allowing them to focus on their careers without the burden of overwhelming debt. We urge policymakers to protect, enhance, and expand these vital initiatives to ensure that education remains accessible and equitable for all.

As we continue to face challenges in higher education financing, it is crucial to learn from past mistakes and advocate for systems that prioritize the well-being of students, not profit. The proposed privatization of the student loan system threatens to undo decades of progress and burden future generations with lifelong debt. It is essential that we protect these programs and work toward a solution that prioritizes education and fairness over corporate interests.

For-Profit College Barons Backed Trump, But Now May Be Scared (David Halperin)

Many top for-profit college industry owners supported Donald Trump’s bid to return to the White House. They had benefitted when, during Trump’s first term, his education secretary, Betsy DeVos, largely ended federal regulatory and enforcement efforts to hold for-profit schools accountable for deceiving students and ripping off taxpayers. But some industry barons, having contributed to the Trump 2024 campaign, now may be scared by efforts of the new Trump administration, including Elon Musk’s DOGE team, to disrupt operations of the U.S. Department of Education. Both Trump and his new Secretary of Education Linda McMahon publicly suggested last week that the Department will be abolished.

Although the for-profit college industry endlessly complained that the Biden and Obama education departments were unfairly targeting the industry with regulations and enforcement actions, they now seem concerned about the possibility that the Trump administration will shutter the Department entirely, abandon the federal role in higher education oversight, and leave regulation to the states. They likely are even more frightened that the proposed gutting of the Department will interfere with the flow of billions in federal taxpayer dollars to their schools.

The Chronicle of Higher Education reports that Jason Altmire, the former congressman who is now the CEO of the largest lobbying group of for-profit colleges, Career Education Colleges and Universities (CECU), says that his schools are worried about the potential disruption of funding for federal student grants and loans. Altmire apparently also expressed concern that turning regulation over to the states could create problems for online schools that operate in multiple states, especially because some states have relatively strong accountability rules.

Many for-profit colleges receive most of their revenue — as much as the 90 percent maximum allowed by U.S. law — from federal taxpayer-supported student grants and loans. For-profit schools have received literally hundreds of billions in these taxpayer dollars over the past two decades, as much as $32 billion at the industry’s peak around 2010, and around $20 billion annually n0w.

But many for-profit schools have used deceptive advertising and recruiting to sell high-priced low quality college and career training programs that leave many students worse off than when they started, deep in debt and without the career advancement they sought. Dozens of for-profit schools have faced federal and state law enforcement actions over their abuses.

CECU (previously called APSCU and before that CCA) has included in its membership over the years many of the most abusive, deceptive school operations, including Corinthian Colleges, ITT Tech, Education Management Corp., Perdoceo, Center for Excellence in Higher Education, DeVry, Kaplan (now called Purdue University Global), and Ashford University (now called University of Arizona Global Campus). (Republic Report highlighted the bad actors on CECU’s membership list for many years; CECU removed the list from its website about four years ago.)

Florida couple Arthur and Belinda Keiser are among those who have benefited the most from CECU lobbying and taxpayer funding. The Keisers run for-profit Southeastern College and non-profit Keiser University, which collectively have received hundreds of million in federal education dollars over the years. They also are among the most politically active owners in the career college industry.

While Belinda Keiser has run, unsuccessfully, for the state legislature, Arthur Keiser has been one of the most aggressive lobbyists for the career college industry in Washington. He has been a dominant figure on the board of CECU, and he hired expensive lawyers to go all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court in a failed effort to block a settlement that provides debt relief to students who attended deceptive colleges, including Keiser University. During Trump’s first term, Arthur Keiser chaired NACIQI, the Department of Education’s advisory committee reviewing the performance of college accreditors.

The Keisers created controversy and were eventually penalized by the IRS for a shady 2011 conversion of Keiser University from for-profit to non-profit, in a deal that allowed the couple to continue making big money off the school. Keiser University has also settled cases with the Justice Department and the Florida attorney general over deceptive practices.

In the two years leading up to the November 2024 election, according to Federal Election Committee records, Belinda Keiser donated more than $250,000 to various Republican candidates and political committees, including $35,000 to the Trump 47 Committee, $10,300 to the Trump-affiliated Save America PAC, $3300 to the Trump Save America Joint Fundraising Committee, and $33,400 to the Republican National Committee.

Ultra-wealthy college owner Carl Barney was another big Trump 2024 donor. Barney operated the Center for Excellence in Higher Education, another troubling conversion from for-profit to non-profit that kept taxpayer money flowing into his bank accounts, for schools including CollegeAmerica and Independence University. Barney’s schools lost their accreditation, and then their federal aid, after the Colorado attorney general in 2020 won a lawsuit accusing CollegeAmerica of deceptive practices. (The case is still pending after an appeal.)

Amid a torrent of donations to Republican committees last fall totaling over $1.6 million, Barney donated $924,600 to the Trump 47 Committee, $74,500 to the Trump-supporting Make America Great Again PAC, and $247,800 to the Republican National Committee, according to federal records.

In a September post on his personal website, Barney explained that he liked that Trump “wants to work with Elon Musk to reduce spending, regulations, waste, and fraud in the federal government.”

What exactly waste, fraud, and abuse seems to mean in the context of the Trump/Musk effort is troubling. There is little evidence that what DOGE has found and shut down relates to actual fraud, abuse, or corruption.

Instead it appears that much of what Musk and DOGE have focused on is weakening or eliminating either (1) federal agencies that have been investigating Musk businesses, or businesses of other top Trump donors; or (2) agencies that work on priorities — such as equal opportunity for Americans or alleviation of poverty or disease overseas — that Trump or Musk dislike.

And the Trump team has been firing, across multiple federal agencies, the inspectors general, ethics watchdogs, and other top officials actually charged with rooting out waste, fraud, and abuse — further undermining the claim that the Trump team is trying to bring about more honest and efficient government.

It’s doubtful that even the heaviest sledgehammer DOGE attack would eliminate the federal student grants and loans that Congress has mandated to give low and moderate income Americans of all backgrounds a better chance to improve their lives through higher education. Assuming such financial aid will continue, then if Trump, Musk, and DOGE truly wanted to root out waste, fraud, and abuse, and save big money for taxpayers, one thing they could do is strengthen, rather than abolish, the Department of Education — not to keep the money flowing to all for-profit colleges, as CECU seems to want, but to advance efforts to ensure that taxpayer dollars go only to those colleges that are creating real benefits for students and for our economy.

That would mean enforcing and building on, not destroying, the Department of Education rules put in place by the Biden administration, including: the gainful employment rule, which creates performance standards to cut off aid to for-profit and career programs that consistently leave graduates with insurmountable debt; the borrower defense rule, which cancels the debts of students scammed by their schools and empowers the Department to go after those predatory schools to recoup the taxpayer money; and the 90-10 rule, which helps keep low-quality programs out of the federal aid program and reduces the risk that poor quality schools will target U.S. veterans and service members.

It would also mean continuing the Biden administration’s efforts to more aggressively evaluate the performance of the private college accrediting agencies that oversee colleges and serve as gatekeepers for federal student grants and loans.

Fighting waste, fraud, and abuse would also mean strengthening, not gutting, efforts to investigate and fight predatory college abuses by enforcement teams at the Department of Education, Federal Trade Commission, Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, Justice Department, Department of Veterans Affairs, and Department of Defense. Many deceptive school operations remain in business today, recruiting veterans, single parents, and others into low-quality, over-priced college programs; they include Perdoceo’s American Intercontinental and Colorado Technical University, Purdue University Global, University of Arizona Global Campus, DeVry University, Walden University, the University of Phoenix, South University, Ultimate Medical Academy, and UEI College.

Fighting waste, fraud, and abuse also would likely require a different higher ed leader at the Department than Nicholas Kent, the Virginia state official whom Trump has nominated to serve as Under Secretary of Education. Kent previously worked at CECU as a lobbyist advancing the interests of for-profit schools. Prior to that, he worked at Education Affiliates, a for-profit college operation that faced civil and criminal investigation and actions by the Justice Department for deceptive practices.

Diane Auer Jones, who held the same job in the first Trump administration, had a career background similar to Kent’s, and she twisted Department policies and actions to benefit predatory colleges. That is presumably the world CECU and its for-profit college barons want to restore: All the money, none of the accountability rules.

In the end, the predatory college owners may get what they want. Given the brazen self-dealing, and fealty to corporate donors, of the Trump-Musk administration, and the sharp elbows of paid-for congressional backers of the for-profit college industry like Rep. Virginia Foxx (R-NC), we will probably end up with the worst of all outcomes: the destruction of the Department of Education but a continued flow of taxpayer billions to for-profit schools, without meaningful accountability measures to ensure that everyday Americans are actually protected from waste, fraud, and abuse.

Americans should demand from Trump and Secretary McMahon a different course — one that provides educational opportunity for all and strengthens the U.S. economy by investing in higher education, while removing from the federal aid program the abusive colleges that rip off students and scam taxpayers.

[Editor's note: This article originally appeared on Republic Report.]  

Support the Mission of the University of Oregon (United Academics of the University of Oregon)

Tuition has increased faster than inflation. State funding has increased faster than inflation. Administrator salaries have increased faster than inflation. Yet, the administration is demanding that the teachers, librarians, and researchers who drive the university’s educational mission take real wage cuts. 

While everyone acknowledges the financial challenges facing higher education, the UO is receiving more money per student than ever before. If this money isn’t going toward student education and knowledge creation, where is it going?

The Facts:

Quality Education Requires Investment in Faculty

The value of a University of Oregon degree depends on the quality of its professors, instructors, researchers, and librarians. When faculty wages erode due to artificial austerity, neglect, or slow attrition, it affects not only the quality of education and research, but also the long-term value of a UO degree for students and alumni alike.

• UO faculty salaries rank near the bottom among our peer institutions in the American Association of Universities (AAU).
• United Academics has proposed fair wage increases that would merely adjust salaries for inflation and restore them to pre-pandemic budget levels.
• Despite pandemic-related learning loss, the administration is spending less on education per student (adjusted for inflation) than before COVID-19.
• The administration has prioritized administrative growth over academic excellence, while faculty have taken on increased workloads since the pandemic.

Faculty Sacrificed to Protect UO—Now It’s Time for Fair Wages

During the pandemic, faculty agreed to potential pay reductions to help UO weather an uncertain financial future. We made sacrifices to ensure the university could continue to serve students. Now, as we bargain our first post-pandemic contract, the administration refuses to offer wage increases that:

• Cover inflation
• Acknowledge additional faculty labor since the pandemic
• Recognize our unwavering commitment to UO’s educational mission

Our Vision for UO: Excellence in Teaching & Research

The University of Oregon’s mission is clear:

“The University of Oregon is a comprehensive public research university committed to exceptional teaching, discovery, and service. We work at a human scale to generate big ideas. As a community of scholars, we help individuals question critically, think logically, reason effectively, communicate clearly, act creatively, and live ethically.”

Our vision for the University of Oregon is one where the educational and research mission are at the fore; an institution of higher learning where we attract and maintain the best researchers and instructors and provide a world class education for the citizens of Oregon and beyond. Yes, this will take a shift in economic priorities, but only back to those before the pandemic. Our demands are neither extravagant nor frivolous. Our demand is that the fiduciaries of the University of Oregon perform their primary fiduciary duty: support the mission of the University of Oregon.

Why This Matters Now

We are currently in state-mandated mediation, a final step before a potential faculty strike. Striking is a last resort—faculty do not want to disrupt student learning. However, the administration’s arguments for austerity do not align with the university’s financial situation or acknowledge the increased faculty labor and inflated economic reality since the pandemic. If the administration does not relent, we may have no choice but to strike.

We Need Your Support

A strong show of support from the UO community—students, parents, alumni, donors, legislators and citizens of Oregon and beyond—can help pressure the administration to do the right thing. 

Sign our Community Support Letter

Elite University Presidents: Most Hated Men (and Women) on Campus

In prestigious universities across the country, the figurehead of the institution—the president—has become a symbol of frustration and resentment among students, faculty, and staff. These figures, often once revered as academic leaders, are increasingly viewed as little more than corporate CEOs, prioritizing the interests of wealthy trustees and donors over the very people who make the university what it is: the students and the dedicated faculty and staff who carry out its mission.

At the heart of the growing discontent is the trend of university presidents restricting freedom of speech and assembly, stifling student activism, and limiting open debate in the name of "campus safety" or "institutional stability." Instead of acting as advocates for open discourse, many university presidents have aligned themselves with powerful corporate interests, turning their backs on the very values that once defined higher education. The administration's agenda is often dictated by the whims of major donors, whose influence can shape everything from university policy to the hiring and firing of professors.

The University of Chicago, long a beacon of academic freedom, has seen its leadership take a hard turn in recent years, placing increasing restrictions on student demonstrations and dissent. Under the guise of maintaining "campus order," the administration has been known to deploy private security to break up protests and limit public forums for free speech.

Harvard University, with its enormous endowment and prestigious reputation, has become another example of an institution where the president seems more concerned with appeasing donors than listening to the students and faculty. The administration has been criticized for prioritizing relationships with donors over addressing the deepening student debt crisis and growing concerns about inequality in higher education. The university has faced a wave of student-led protests demanding action on climate change, affordable tuition, and the rights of adjunct faculty, all of which were largely ignored or dismissed by the top administration.

Harvard’s massive endowment—reportedly the largest of any university in the world—has been a focal point of controversy. While it continues to grow, many argue that the university could be doing far more to address the financial burdens of its students, particularly the mounting debt facing undergraduates. Instead, the administration has focused on expanding its brand and maintaining its status as an elite institution, often prioritizing donor preferences and legacy admissions over efforts to make education more accessible. Legacy admissions, in which children of alumni are given preferential treatment, have been a point of contention, with critics arguing that this practice entrenches privilege and reduces opportunities for marginalized students.

Even at places like Princeton University, long considered a champion of academic freedom, President Christopher Eisgruber has come under fire for clamping down on student speech and assembly. While Princeton’s administration claims to support free expression, it has quietly enacted policies to restrict protestors’ access to the administration building, citing concerns about “disruption” and “disorder.” Eisgruber, who has connections to powerful alumni, has been accused of using his position to protect the interests of wealthy donors while ignoring the voices of those who are most directly affected by the university's policies.

The University of Southern California (USC) is another prime example of a university where the president’s priorities have come under increasing scrutiny from students, faculty, and staff. Under President Carol Folt, USC has become emblematic of a trend where the administration appears more aligned with wealthy donors and corporate interests than with the needs of its campus community.

Folt, who took over as USC's president in 2019, was thrust into the spotlight during a period of significant unrest. The university had already been embroiled in scandals—including the high-profile college admissions bribery scandal—and was facing criticism for its handling of sexual assault allegations within its medical school. Rather than addressing these issues head-on, many argue that Folt’s administration focused instead on securing funding from high-profile donors and expanding the university’s brand, while sidelining the concerns of students and faculty.

This prioritization of external donors is evident in USC’s massive fundraising campaigns, which often overshadow initiatives aimed at addressing student debt, affordability, or academic freedom. USC's endowment has grown exponentially under Folt’s leadership, but student loan debt continues to be a crippling issue for many Trojans, and the concerns of adjunct faculty members remain largely ignored.

Furthermore, Folt’s administration has faced criticism for its efforts to suppress dissent on campus. For instance, student protests related to labor rights, housing issues, and calls for greater diversity on campus have been met with limited response or, at times, outright hostility. In 2022, when USC students protested the administration's handling of campus housing shortages, they were met with heightened security measures and a lack of genuine engagement from university leadership. These actions—along with Folt’s ties to the private sector, particularly her background in environmental policy and corporate leadership—have fueled perceptions that USC’s administration is more interested in protecting its brand than in creating an inclusive, participatory academic environment.

USC also exemplifies the growing disconnect between students, faculty, and administration when it comes to issues of free speech and assembly. Protests have become less frequent, as many students feel their voices will not be heard, and faculty members, particularly those in non-tenure track positions, are often too fearful of retribution to publicly criticize the administration.

The discontent with university leadership is not confined to the campus. In recent years, presidents from some of the nation's most elite institutions, including Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, have faced intense scrutiny and backlash during hearings in the U.S. House of Representatives. These public hearings, aimed at addressing the growing issues of student debt, university funding, and the influence of wealthy donors on campus, have highlighted the widening disconnect between top university administrations and the communities they are supposed to serve.

During a House hearing in 2022, Lawrence Bacow of Harvard, along with MIT's President L. Rafael Reif and Penn's President Amy Gutmann, faced tough questioning from lawmakers who were deeply critical of how these institutions have handled student debt, tuition costs, and their ties to corporate interests. Bacow, in particular, faced pointed questions about Harvard's massive endowment and the university's refusal to use its resources to address skyrocketing tuition and student loan debt. Both Reif and Gutmann were grilled on how their institutions have prioritized securing donations from wealthy alumni and corporate entities over the well-being of students and faculty. The hearing exposed a troubling pattern where the presidents of these prestigious institutions seemed more concerned with maintaining their institutions' financial health than with addressing the needs of their campus communities.

Legacy admissions, a practice entrenched at many of these elite schools, also came under fire during the hearings. Critics argued that such policies perpetuate inequality, giving children of alumni—many of whom come from wealthy backgrounds—unfair advantages in the admissions process. This has contributed to the growing perception that these universities, while claiming to offer merit-based opportunities, are fundamentally shaped by privilege and corporate interests.

These public confrontations highlighted the growing frustration with university presidents who are seen as out of touch with the everyday realities facing students and faculty, as well as the increasing influence of money and corporate interests in higher education. The presidents of these universities, once seen as respected leaders, have become targets of anger and resentment, with many on Capitol Hill and on campus calling for a shift in how these institutions are governed.

These are just a few examples of elite universities where the power structure has shifted toward those who have the financial means to dictate the terms of the campus experience. As tuition costs rise and student loan debt becomes a crushing burden for many, university presidents seem more determined than ever to serve the interests of trustees and donors, rather than advocating for the people who should be their true constituents: the students, faculty, and staff who make up the heart of the academic community.

The impact of this shift has been profound. On campuses across the country, students are increasingly feeling that their voices don’t matter. Faculty members, once seen as the intellectual core of the institution, are being sidelined in favor of administrators who prioritize financial concerns over academic integrity. And staff members—many of whom are underpaid and overworked—are being pushed to the margins as well.

But it’s not just students who are feeling the heat. Faculty and staff have found their own platforms for protest increasingly under attack. At places like Yale University, where former President Peter Salovey faced criticism for neglecting the needs of faculty and for his lukewarm responses to issues like labor rights and the treatment of graduate workers, professors staged walkouts and organized petitions to voice their discontent with the administration's disregard for their well-being.

In this new era, university presidents are no longer the beloved leaders of intellectual discourse—they are the gatekeepers of corporate power, more concerned with securing funding from wealthy donors than with fostering an inclusive, open, and critical academic environment. The fallout from this shift is only growing, as campuses become hotbeds of dissent, with students, faculty, and staff increasingly questioning the direction of higher education and the people at the helm.

As the divide between administration and the campus community continues to widen, one thing is clear: the once-admired university president is now among the most hated figures on campus, seen not as a champion of academic values, but as an enforcer of an increasingly political and profit-driven agenda.

University Presidents Called to Action

Elite universities, long considered the pinnacle of higher education, have become increasingly entwined in a broader conversation about privilege, access, and power. From their controversial legacy admissions practices to their outsized political influence, these institutions are not merely places of learning—they are gatekeepers of social and economic power, shaping the future through both exclusion and influence. Beyond their academic roles, these universities have extended their reach into local communities, using their enormous wealth and influence to take control of land, shape urban landscapes, and solidify their power within regional politics.

The legacy admissions system, which provides preferential treatment to the children and grandchildren of alumni, is a glaring example of how these universities perpetuate privilege. Institutions such as Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Stanford—universities that consistently rank among the top in the nation—have long utilized this practice to ensure that the doors to elite education remain open to those already within the circles of power. By admitting students with lesser academic qualifications solely because of their family connections, these schools continue a long tradition of insularity, effectively reserving spaces for the wealthy and well-connected. Despite growing opposition, including recent moves by California’s private colleges to ban legacy admissions, the practice remains a powerful force, locking out more qualified, diverse applicants and ensuring that the privileged maintain access to elite institutions.

In addition to these admissions practices, elite universities exert considerable influence on the political landscape. The recent revelations about their political spending—millions funneled into federal campaigns, overwhelmingly favoring Democratic candidates—highlight a disturbing trend. Universities like Harvard, Stanford, and Johns Hopkins are not neutral players in the policy arena; they are active participants in shaping the very policies that benefit their interests. Whether it’s lobbying for federal funding, securing advantageous tax policies, or influencing regulations related to higher education, these universities use their wealth to protect and expand their power. These schools are not just centers of academic pursuit—they are political players in their own right, using their financial clout to shape the policies that govern education, tax law, and more.

Beyond their influence in academia and politics, elite universities increasingly exert power over the very land on which they sit. In many cities, top-tier universities like Harvard, Stanford, Columbia, and the University of Chicago are not just educational institutions—they are economic and political powerhouses. With multi-billion-dollar endowments, these institutions often wield more financial clout than entire cities. They routinely expand their campuses, purchasing properties, and in some cases, entire neighborhoods, often displacing long-standing communities in the process. This process, commonly known as "university-led gentrification," transforms urban spaces, driving up property values and rents while pushing out lower-income residents.

Universities often justify their land acquisitions as part of their mission to expand their campuses, build new research centers, and offer more housing for students and faculty. However, the impact on local communities can be severe. In many cases, universities use their tax-exempt status to avoid paying property taxes on the land they acquire, depriving local governments of revenue while also claiming a disproportionate share of urban space. This allows them to grow their influence without contributing fully to the neighborhoods in which they are embedded.

This land-grabbing behavior has sparked resistance in cities across the country. In Boston, for example, Harvard and MIT have been critiqued for taking over large swaths of land in the Allston and Kendall Square neighborhoods, displacing low-income residents and local businesses. In New York, Columbia’s expansion into Harlem sparked protests from community members who felt their homes and livelihoods were being sacrificed to the university’s growth. In many cases, these universities lobby local governments to secure favorable zoning laws, tax breaks, and exemptions that allow them to build at will and maintain their growing empire.

Both legacy admissions and political donations underscore a fundamental truth: elite universities are not just educational institutions—they are institutions of power. They maintain an oligarchic structure that privileges those already in positions of wealth and influence, while shaping local economies and political systems to ensure their continued dominance. By hoarding access to elite education, they perpetuate a system in which the children of the wealthy have a head start in both education and society, while simultaneously lobbying for policies that further cement their own influence. Through their land acquisitions, gentrification, political donations, and admissions practices, these universities continue to consolidate their power, reinforcing an elitist status quo that leaves many outside looking in.

In all of this, university presidents have increasingly positioned themselves as moral arbiters, asserting their institutions’ commitment to social justice, inclusion, and equality. Yet this moral high ground becomes precarious when their administrations take extreme measures to suppress resistance. Protests against their policies—whether regarding gentrification, climate change, or labor rights—are often met with heavy-handed tactics. University leaders, eager to preserve their public image, have been known to deploy security forces, call in the police, or even collaborate with local governments to disband protests. In some cases, these universities have resorted to legal action against student and faculty activists, silencing dissent through threats of discipline, expulsion, or other punitive measures.

This duplicity becomes even more apparent when considering the moral stands many university leaders take in public, promoting inclusivity, diversity, and progressive values, while simultaneously suppressing those who challenge their institution’s power dynamics. In the face of mounting resistance from marginalized communities or student groups, these leaders prefer to maintain control over their campuses and public narratives, often using administrative power to quash any movements that may disrupt the status quo.

Yet, history has shown that even the most entrenched systems can change, and university presidents are not beyond the possibility of transformation. Just as some figures in the Bible experienced profound revelations that led them to change course and right their wrongs, university leaders, too, can have moments of reckoning. Consider the example of King David, whose heart was changed after his confrontation with the prophet Nathan over his sin (2 Samuel 12). David, once blinded by his own power, repented and chose a path of humility and righteousness. In the same way, university presidents, confronted by the voices of resistance, public outcry, or moral awakening, could choose to lead their institutions toward a more just and equitable future. In the New Testament, Saul’s conversion on the road to Damascus (Acts 9) serves as another powerful reminder that no one is beyond redemption. Saul, who once persecuted early Christians, was transformed into Paul, one of the most influential apostles in Christian history. Similarly, a university president could choose to recognize the harm their institution has caused and decide to enact transformative policies that benefit marginalized communities and dismantle the systems of privilege they have helped sustain.

Moses is another figure whose story exemplifies the power of divine revelation to shift course. As a prince of Egypt, Moses had everything at his disposal, yet he chose to stand up to Pharaoh when he recognized the injustice of the Hebrew people’s oppression. His moment of conviction led him to free his people from slavery, even though it required courage to defy a powerful ruler (Exodus 3-4). In the same way, a university president must stand up to the powerful trustees and donors who expect to maintain the status quo. To act in the face of such resistance requires profound moral courage—a willingness to lead against entrenched interests that protect wealth and privilege.

Another key figure in the Old Testament is Esther, who displayed extraordinary courage in a moment of great moral clarity. She risked her life by standing up to King Xerxes to save the Jewish people from annihilation (Esther 4). As the queen, she was in a powerful position, but it was only when she realized the enormity of the injustice at hand that she chose to act. Similarly, university presidents with the power to challenge the status quo can, like Esther, use their positions to advocate for justice and equality, even if it means confronting powerful forces that wish to preserve an unjust order.

As university presidents come face to face with the overwhelming issues of racism, injustice, and climate chaos, there exists the possibility of moral revelation—a turning point where they confront the gravity of their actions and their institutions’ role in perpetuating harm. The growing calls for racial justice, fueled by movements like Black Lives Matter, demand an acknowledgment of the systemic racism embedded in these universities. Whether through the disproportionate representation of wealthy white students or the stark inequities in faculty and leadership diversity, these institutions must reckon with their participation in racial oppression. Similarly, as the climate crisis deepens, universities’ investments in fossil fuels and their ongoing complicity in the destruction of the environment have become focal points for student activists and global environmental movements. Universities, often perceived as beacons of progress, have a responsibility to divest from industries contributing to ecological collapse and instead use their vast resources for environmental justice.

And yet, one of the greatest challenges these university leaders will face lies not only in the resistance of external forces like protestors, activists, and the general public, but also in the powerful trustees and donors who hold significant sway over the institutions’ direction. Many universities are closely tied to wealthy benefactors and influential trustees whose interests often align with maintaining the status quo—whether through preserving investment strategies, political stances, or traditional admissions processes. These figures are not simply investors in the university's future; they are powerful stakeholders with the resources to shape institutional policies and procedures, often with little regard for social justice or environmental responsibility.

For a university president to truly lead with courage and integrity, they must be willing to go against these powerful forces. This would require challenging the entrenched interests of those who have long benefited from an elite, exclusionary system and are reluctant to embrace the radical changes needed to address systemic injustice. It takes immense fortitude to stand up to trustees and donors who view universities as tools for preserving their wealth and influence, rather than forces for good in the world.

But university presidents who choose to go against these forces can become true moral leaders. They can take inspiration from figures like Moses, who boldly defied Pharaoh’s power to liberate the oppressed, or Esther, whose bravery in standing up to the king saved her people (Esther 4). In doing so, they would not only transform their institutions but also serve as examples of ethical leadership in a time when such leadership is sorely needed.

The courage to defy powerful donors and trustees would mark a dramatic shift in how elite universities operate. Presidents could, if they choose, champion a new vision—one where social justice, racial equality, and environmental sustainability are at the forefront of institutional priorities. Just as Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt toward a promised land of freedom, so too could university presidents lead their institutions out of the grip of elitism and corporate influence, steering them toward a more equitable and just future.

Both legacy admissions, political donations, land control, and the suppression of protest point to a deeper issue: elite universities have built themselves into institutions of unparalleled power. These universities operate not only as educational establishments but also as political and economic entities, constantly reinforcing a structure of privilege, wealth, and exclusion. The dissonance between their public declarations of moral authority and their actions to protect entrenched power reveals the true nature of these institutions. They are not the bastions of free inquiry and social good they often claim to be—they are powerful, self-interested players in a system that serves to preserve the very inequalities they profess to challenge.

However, the possibility remains that these institutions—guided by transformative leadership—could embrace a new path. University presidents could heed the call for justice, as many leaders in history have, and change the trajectory of their institutions, opting to lead in ways that promote true equity, racial justice, and environmental stewardship. These universities—once seen as places of learning and opportunity—could become what they claim to be: inclusive, just, and truly committed to the betterment of society. They are the architects of the future they seek to create: one where the privileged no longer remain firmly entrenched at the top, and where political, economic, and educational structures are reshaped for the common good. Whether through legacy admissions, political spending, land control, or suppressing protest, these institutions continue to consolidate their power, but with the right leadership, they can still pivot toward a more just future—one that embodies the values they espouse.

[Editor's note: This essay, written for elite university presidents, is intended as a rhetorical device rather than a statement of facts. We find that everyone has their own "mythology" or set of mythologies they follow. As with all our work, we value your feedback.]

Erasing History, Erasing Democracy: Trump’s Authoritarian Assault on Education (Henry Giroux, Truthout)

Did you know that Truthout is a nonprofit and independently funded by readers like you? If you value what we do, please support our work with a donation.

Trump appears bent on ridding schools of dangerous practices like critical thinking and an unsanitized study of history.

In the initial days of his second term, President Donald Trump issued several executive orders “seeking to control how schools teach about race and gender, direct more tax dollars to private schools, and deport pro-Palestinian protesters.” On January 29, 2025, he signed the “Ending Radical Indoctrination in K-12 Schooling” executive order, which mandates the elimination of curricula that the administration deems as promoting “radical, anti-American ideologies.” This executive order is not just an attack on critical race theory or teachings about systemic racism — it is a cornerstone of an authoritarian ideology designed to eliminate critical thought, suppress historical truth and strip educators of their autonomy. Under the guise of combating “divisiveness,” it advances a broader war on education as a democratizing force, turning schools into dead zones of the imagination. By threatening to strip federal funding from institutions that refuse to conform, this policy functions as an instrument of ideological indoctrination, enforcing a sanitized, nationalistic narrative that erases histories of oppression and resistance while deepening a culture of ignorance and compliance.

Concurrently, President Trump issued the “Expanding Educational Freedom and Opportunity for Families” executive order, aiming to enhance school choice by redirecting federal funds to support charter schools and voucher programs. This policy enables parents to use public funds for private and religious school tuition. While proponents claim that this legislation empowers parents and fosters competition, in reality, it is a calculated effort to defund and privatize public education, undermining it as a democratizing public good. As part of a broader far right assault on education, this policy redirects essential resources away from public schools, deepening educational inequality and advancing an agenda that seeks to erode public investment in a just and equitable society.

In the name of eliminating radical indoctrination in schools, a third executive order, which purportedly aims at ending antisemitism, threatens to deport pro-Palestinian student protesters by revoking their visas, warning that even those legally in the country could be targeted for their political views. In a stark display of authoritarianism, Trump’s executive order unapologetically stated that free speech would not be tolerated. Reuters made this clear in reporting that one fact sheet ominously declared: “I will … quickly cancel the student visas of all Hamas sympathizers on college campuses, which have been infested with radicalism like never before. To all the resident aliens who joined in the pro-jihadist protests, we put you on notice: come 2025, we will find you, and we will deport you.”

Trump’s longstanding war on education has taken a more dangerous turn with his incoming order to eliminate the Department of Education through executive fiat. This is not just an attack on bureaucracy; it is a calculated and boldfaced assault on public education itself — an effort to dismantle one of the last remaining institutions or public goods capable of fostering critical thought, historical memory and civic responsibility.

By gutting federal oversight, he is handing the fate of education to reactionary state legislatures and corporate interests, ensuring that knowledge is shaped by a state held captive by billionaires and far right extremists. This is the logic of authoritarianism: to hollow out democratic institutions and replace education with white Christian propaganda and a pedagogy of repression. At issue here is an attempt to render an entire generation defenseless against the very forces seeking to dominate them.

What we are witnessing is not just an educational crisis but a full-scale war on institutions that not only defend democracy but enable it. What is under siege in this attack is not only the critical function of education but the very notion that it should be defined through its vision of creating a central feature of democracy, educating informed and critically engaged citizens.

These executive actions represent an upgraded and broader version of McCarthyite and apartheid-era education that seeks to dictate how schools teach about race and gender, funnel more taxpayer dollars into private institutions, and deport Palestinian protesters. The irony is striking: The White House defends these regressive measures of sanitizing history, stripping away the rights of transgender students and erasing critical race theory as efforts to “end indoctrination in American education.” In truth, this is not about the pursuit of freedom or open inquiry, nor is it about fostering an education that cultivates informed, critically engaged citizens. At its core, this agenda is a deliberate attack on education as a public good — one that threatens to dismantle not only public institutions, but the very essence of public and higher education and its culture of criticism and democracy. The urgency of this moment cannot be overstated: The future of education itself is at stake.

In the raging currents of contemporary political and cultural life, where fascist ideologies are rising, one of the most insidious and all-encompassing forces at play is the violence of forgetting — a plague of historical amnesia. This phenomenon, which I have referred to as “organized forgetting,” describes the systemic erasure of history and its violent consequences, particularly in the public sphere. This is especially evident in the current historical moment, when books are banned in libraries, public schools and higher education across countries, such as the United States, Hungary, India, China and Russia. Ignoring past atrocities, historical injustices and uncomfortable truths about a society’s foundation is not merely an oversight — it constitutes an active form of violence that shapes both our collective consciousness and political realities. What we are witnessing here is an assault by the far right on memory that is inseparable from what Maximillian Alvarez describes as a battle over power — over who is remembered, who is erased, who is cast aside and who is forcibly reduced to something less than human. This struggle is not just about history; it is about whose stories are allowed to shape the present and the future. Alvarez captures this reality with striking clarity and is worth quoting at length:

Among the prizes at stake in the endless war of politics is history itself. The battle for power is always a battle to determine who gets remembered, how they will be recalled, where and in what forms their memories will be preserved. In this battle, there is no room for neutral parties: every history and counter-history must fight and scrap and claw and spread and lodge itself in the world, lest it be forgotten or forcibly erased. All history, in this sense, is the history of empire — a bid for control of that greatest expanse of territory, the past.

Organized forgetting also helped fuel the resurgence of Donald Trump, as truth and reason are being systematically replaced by lies, corruption, denial and the weaponization of memory itself. A culture of questioning, critique and vision is not simply disappearing in the United States — it is actively maligned, disparaged and replaced by a darkness that, as Ezra Klein observes, is “stupefyingly vast, stretching from self-destructive incompetence to muddling incoherence to authoritarian consolidation.”

This erosion affects institutions of law, civil society and education — pillars that rely on memory, informed judgment and evidence to foster historical understanding and civic responsibility. The attack on the common good goes beyond the distractions of an “attention economy” designed to distort reality; it reflects a deliberate effort to sever the ties between history and meaning. Time is reduced to fragmented episodes, stripped of the shared narratives that connect the past, present and future.

This crisis embodies a profound collapse of memory, history, education and democracy itself. A culture of manufactured ignorance — rooted in the rejection of history, facts and critical thought — erases accountability for electing a leader who incited insurrection and branded his opponents as “enemies from within.” Such authoritarian politics thrive on historical amnesia, lulling society into passivity, eroding collective memory and subverting civic agency. This is epitomized by Trump’s declaration on “Fox & Friends” that he would punish schools that teach students accurate U.S. history, including about slavery and racism in the country. The call to silence dangerous memories is inseparable from the violence of state terrorism — a force that censors and dehumanizes dissent, escalating to the punishment, torture and imprisonment of truth-tellers and critics who dare to hold oppressive power accountable.

At its core, the violence of forgetting operates through the denial and distortion of historical events, particularly those that challenge the dominant narratives of power. From the colonial atrocities and the struggles for civil rights to the history of Palestine-Israel relations, many of the most significant chapters of history are either glossed over or erased altogether. This strategic omission serves the interests of those in power, enabling them to maintain control by silencing inconvenient truths. As the historian Timothy Snyder reminds us, by refusing to acknowledge the violence of the past, society makes it far easier to perpetuate injustices in the present. The politics of organized forgetting, the censoring of history and the attack on historical consciousness are fundamental to the rise of far right voices in the U.S. and across the world.

With the rise of regressive memory laws, designed to repress what authoritarian governments consider dangerous and radical interpretations of a country’s past, historical consciousness is transformed into a form of historical amnesia. One vivid example of a regressive memory law was enacted by Trump during his first term. The 1776 Report, which right-wingers defended as a “restoration of American education,” was in fact an attempt to eliminate from the teaching of history any reference to a legacy of colonialism, slavery and movements which highlighted elements of American history that were unconscionable, anti-democratic and morally repugnant. Snyder highlights the emergence of memory laws in a number of states. He writes in a 2021 New York Times article:

As of this writing, five states (Idaho, Iowa, Tennessee, Texas and Oklahoma) have passed laws that direct and restrict discussions of history in classrooms. The Department of Education of a sixth (Florida) has passed guidelines with the same effect. Another 12 state legislatures are still considering memory laws. The particulars of these laws vary. The Idaho law is the most Kafkaesque in its censorship: It affirms freedom of speech and then bans divisive speech. The Iowa law executes the same totalitarian pirouette. The Tennessee and Texas laws go furthest in specifying what teachers may and may not say. In Tennessee teachers must not teach that the rule of law is “a series of power relationships and struggles among racial or other groups.”… The Idaho law mentions Critical Race Theory; the directive from the Florida school board bans it in classrooms. The Texas law forbids teachers from requiring students to understand the 1619 Project. It is a perverse goal: Teachers succeed if students do not understand something.

A major aspect of this forgetting and erasure of historical memory is the role of ignorance, which has become not just widespread but weaponized in modern times. Ignorance, particularly in U.S. society, has shifted from being a passive lack of knowledge to an active refusal to engage with critical issues. This is amplified by the spectacle-driven nature of contemporary media and the increasing normalization of a culture of lies and the embrace of a language of violence, which not only thrives on distraction rather than reflection, but has become a powerful force for spreading bigotry, racial hatred and right-wing lies. In addition, the mainstream media’s obsession with spectacle — be it political drama, celebrity culture or sensationalist stories — often overshadows the more important, yet less glamorous, discussions about historical violence and systemic injustice.

This intellectual neglect allows for a dangerous cycle to persist, where the erasure of history enables the continuation of violence and oppression. Systems of power benefit from this amnesia, as it allows them to maintain the status quo without having to answer for past wrongs. When society refuses to remember or address past injustices — whether it’s slavery, imperialism or economic exploitation — those in power can continue to exploit the present without fear of historical accountability.

To strip education of its critical power is to rob democracy of its transformative potential.

The cultural impact of this organized forgetting is profound. Not only does it create a void in public memory, but it also stunts collective growth. Without the lessons of the past, it becomes nearly impossible to learn from mistakes and address the root causes of social inequalities. The failure to remember makes it harder to demand meaningful change, while reproducing and legitimating ongoing far right assaults on democracy.

The violence of organized forgetting is not a mere act of neglect; it is a deliberate cultural and intellectual assault that undercuts the foundations of any meaningful democracy. By erasing the past, society implicitly condones the ongoing oppression of marginalized groups and perpetuates harmful ideologies that thrive in ignorance. This erasure silences the voices of those who have suffered — denying them the space to speak their truth and demand justice. It is not limited to historical injustices alone; it extends to the present, silencing those who courageously criticize contemporary violence, such as Israel’s U.S.-backed genocidal war on Gaza, and those brave enough to hold power accountable.

The act of forgetting is not passive; it actively supports systems of oppression and censorship, muffling dissent and debate, both of which are essential for a healthy democracy.

Equally dangerous is the form of historical amnesia that has come to dominate our contemporary political and cultural landscape. This organized forgetting feeds into a pedagogy of manufactured ignorance that prioritizes emotion over reason and spectacle over truth. In this process, history is fragmented and distorted, making it nearly impossible to construct a coherent understanding of the past. As a result, public institutions — particularly education — are undermined, as critical thinking and social responsibility give way to shallow, sensationalized narratives. Higher education, once a bastion for the development of civic literacy and the moral imperative of understanding our role as both individuals and social agents, is now attacked by forces seeking to cleanse public memory of past social and political progress. Figures like Trump embody this threat, working to erase the memory of strides made in the name of equality, justice and human decency. This organized assault on historical memory and intellectual rigor strikes at the heart of democracy itself. When we allow the erasure of history and the undermining of critical thought, we risk suffocating the ideals that democracy promises: justice, equality and accountability.

A democracy cannot thrive in the absence of informed and engaged agents that are capable of questioning, challenging and reimagining a future different from the present. Without such citizens, the very notion of democracy becomes a hollow, disembodied ideal — an illusion of freedom without the substance of truth or responsibility. Education, in this context, is not merely a tool for transmitting knowledge; it is the foundation and bedrock of political consciousness. To be educated, to be a citizen, is not a neutral or passive state — it is a vital, active political and moral engagement with the world, grounded in critical thinking and democratic possibility. It is a recognition that the act of learning and the act of being a citizen are inextricable from each other. To strip education of its critical power is to rob democracy of its transformative potential.

Confronting the violence of forgetting requires a shift in how we engage with history. Intellectuals, educators and activists must take up the responsibility of reintroducing the painful truths of the past into public discourse. This is not about dwelling in the past for its own sake, but about understanding its relevance to the present and future. To break the cycles of violence, society must commit to remembering, not just for the sake of memory, but as a critical tool for progress.

Moreover, engaging with history honestly requires recognizing that the violence of forgetting is not a one-time event but a continual process. Systems of power don’t simply forget; they actively work to erase, rewrite and sanitize historical narratives. This means that the fight to remember is ongoing and requires constant vigilance. It’s not enough to simply uncover historical truths; society must work to ensure that these truths are not forgotten again, buried under the weight of media spectacles, ideological repression and political theater.

Ultimately, the violence of forgetting is an obstacle to genuine social change. Without confronting the past — acknowledging the violence and injustices that have shaped our world — we cannot hope to build a more just and informed future. To move forward, any viable democratic social order must reckon with its past, break free from the bonds of ignorance, and commit to creating a future based on knowledge, justice and accountability.

The task of confronting and dismantling the violent structures shaped by the power of forgetting is immense, yet the urgency has never been more pronounced. In an era where the scope and power of new pedagogical apparatuses such as social media and AI dominate our cultural and intellectual landscapes, the challenge becomes even more complex. While they hold potential for education and connection, these technologies are controlled by a reactionary ruling class of financial elite and billionaires, and they are increasingly wielded to perpetuate disinformation, fragment history and manipulate public discourse. The authoritarian algorithms that drive these platforms increasingly prioritize sensationalism over substance, lies over truth, the appropriation of power over social responsibility, and in doing so, reinforce modes of civic illiteracy, while attacking those fundamental institutions which enable critical perspectives and a culture of questioning.

The vital need for collective action and intellectual engagement to reclaim and restore historical truth, critical thinking and social responsibility is urgent. The present historical moment, both unprecedented and alarming, resonates with Antonio Gramsci’s reflection on an earlier era marked by the rise of fascism: “The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born; now is the time of monsters.”

In the face of a deepening crisis of history, memory and agency, any meaningful resistance must be collective, disruptive and unapologetically unsettling — challenging entrenched orthodoxies and dismantling the forces that perpetuate ignorance and injustice. This struggle needs to be both radical in its essence and uncompromising in its demands for social change, recognizing education as inseparable from politics and the tangible challenges people face in their everyday lives. In this collective effort lies the power to dismantle the barriers to truth, rebuild the foundations of critical thought, and shape a future rooted in knowledge, justice and a profound commitment to make power accountable. Central to this vision is the capacity to learn from history, to nurture a historical consciousness that informs our present and to reimagine agency as an essential force in the enduring struggle for democracy. This call for a radical imagination cannot be confined to classrooms but must emerge as a transformative force embedded in a united, multiracial, working-class movement. Only then can we confront the urgent crises of our time.

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Henry A. Giroux

Henry A. Giroux currently holds the McMaster University Chair for Scholarship in the Public Interest in the English and Cultural Studies Department and is the Paulo Freire Distinguished Scholar in Critical Pedagogy. His most recent books include: The Terror of the Unforeseen (Los Angeles Review of books, 2019), On Critical Pedagogy, 2nd edition (Bloomsbury, 2020); Race, Politics, and Pandemic Pedagogy: Education in a Time of Crisis (Bloomsbury 2021); Pedagogy of Resistance: Against Manufactured Ignorance (Bloomsbury 2022) and Insurrections: Education in the Age of Counter-Revolutionary Politics (Bloomsbury, 2023), and coauthored with Anthony DiMaggio, Fascism on Trial: Education and the Possibility of Democracy (Bloomsbury, 2025). Giroux is also a member of Truthout’s board of directors.