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Tuesday, November 4, 2025

When Was Higher Education Truly a Public Good? (Glen McGhee)

Like staring at the Sun too long, that brief window in time, when higher ed was a public good, has left a permanent hole for nostalgia to leak in, becoming a massive black hole for trillions of dollars, and a blind-spot for misguided national policies and scholars alike. 

The notion that American higher education was ever a true public good is largely a myth. From the colonial colleges to the neoliberal university of today, higher education has functioned primarily as a mechanism of class reproduction and elite consolidation—with one brief, historically anomalous exception during the Cold War.




Colonial Roots: Elite Reproduction in the New World (1636–1787)

The first American colleges—Harvard, William and Mary, Yale, Princeton, and a handful of others—were founded not for the benefit of the public, but to serve narrow elite interests. Their stated missions were to train Protestant clergy and prepare the sons of wealthy white families for leadership. They operated under monopoly charters and drew funding from landowners, merchants, and slave traders.

Elihu Yale, namesake of Yale University, derived wealth from his commercial ties to the East India Company and the slave trade. Harvard’s early trustees owned enslaved people. These institutions functioned as “old boys’ clubs,” perpetuating privilege rather than promoting equality. Their educational mission was to cultivate “gentlemen fit to govern,” not citizens of a democracy.


Private Enterprise in the Republic (1790–1860)

After independence, the number of colleges exploded—from 19 in 1790 to more than 800 by 1880—but not because of any commitment to the public good. Colleges became tools for two private interests: religious denominations seeking influence, and land speculators eager to raise property values.

Ministers often doubled as land dealers, founding small, parochial colleges to anchor towns and boost prices. State governments played a minimal role, providing funding only in times of crisis. The Supreme Court’s 1819 Dartmouth College decision enshrined institutional autonomy, shielding private colleges from state interference. Even state universities were created mainly out of interstate competition—every state needed its own to “keep up with its neighbors.”


Gilded Age and Progressive Era: Credential Capitalism (1880–1940)

By the late 19th century, industrial capitalism had transformed higher education into a private good—something purchased for individual advancement. As family farms and small businesses disappeared, college credentials became the ticket to white-collar respectability.

Sociologist Burton Bledstein called this the “culture of professionalism.” Families invested in degrees to secure middle-class futures for their children. By the 1920s, most students attended college not to seek enlightenment, but “to get ready for a particular job.”

Elite universities such as Harvard, Yale, and Princeton solidified their dominance through exclusive networks. C. Wright Mills later observed that America’s “power elite” circulated through these same institutions and their associated clubs. Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of cultural capital helps explain this continuity: elite universities convert inherited privilege into certified merit, preserving hierarchy under the guise of meritocracy.


The Morrill Acts: Public Promise, Private Gains (1862–1890)

The Morrill Act of 1862 established land-grant colleges to promote “practical education” in agriculture and engineering. While often cited as a triumph of public-minded policy, the act’s legacy is ambivalent.

Land-grant universities were built on land expropriated from Indigenous peoples—often without compensation—and the 1890 Morrill Act entrenched segregation by mandating separate institutions for Black Americans in the Jim Crow South. Even as these colleges expanded access for white working-class men, they simultaneously reinforced racial and economic hierarchies.


Cold War Universities: The Brief Public Good (1940–1970)

For roughly thirty years, during World War II and the Cold War, American universities functioned as genuine public goods—but only because national survival seemed to depend on them.

The GI Bill opened college to millions of veterans, stabilizing the economy and expanding the middle class. Massive federal investments in research transformed universities into engines of technological and scientific innovation. The university, for a moment, was understood as a public instrument for national progress.

Yet this golden age was marred by exclusion. Black veterans were often denied GI Bill benefits, particularly in the South, where discriminatory admissions and housing policies blocked their participation. The “military-industrial-academic complex” that emerged from wartime funding created a new elite network centered on research universities like MIT, Stanford, and Berkeley.


Neoliberal Regression: Education as a Private Commodity (1980–Present)

After 1970, the system reverted to its long-standing norm: higher education as a private good. The Cold War’s end, the tax revolt, and the rise of neoliberal ideology dismantled the postwar consensus.

Ronald Reagan led the charge—first as California governor, cutting higher education funding by 20%, then as president, slashing federal support. He argued that tuition should replace public subsidies, casting education as an individual investment rather than a social right.

Since 1980, state funding per student has fallen sharply while tuition at public universities has tripled. Students are now treated as “customers,” and universities as corporations—complete with branding departments, executive pay packages, and relentless tuition hikes.


The Circuit of Elite Network Capital

Today, the benefits of higher education flow through a closed circuit of power that links elite universities, corporations, government agencies, and wealthy families.

  1. Elite Universities consolidate wealth and prestige through research funding, patents, and endowments.

  2. Corporations recruit talent and license discoveries, feeding the same institutions that produce their executives.

  3. Government and Military Agencies are staffed by alumni of elite universities, reinforcing a revolving door of privilege.

  4. Elite Professions—law, medicine, finance, consulting—use degrees as gatekeeping mechanisms, driving credential inflation.

  5. Wealthy Families invest in elite education as a means of preserving status across generations.

What the public receives are only residual benefits—technologies and medical innovations that remain inaccessible without money or insurance.


Elite Network Capital, Not Public Good

The idea of higher education as a public good has always been more myth than reality. For most of American history, colleges and universities have functioned as institutions of elite reproduction, not engines of democratic uplift.

Only during the extraordinary conditions of the mid-20th century—when global war and ideological conflict made mass education a national imperative—did higher education briefly align with the public interest.

Today’s universities continue to speak the language of “public good,” but their actions reveal a different truth. They serve as factories of credentialism and as nodes in an elite network that translates privilege into prestige. What masquerades as a public good is, in practice, elite network capital—a system designed not to democratize opportunity, but to manage and legitimize inequality.


Sources:
Labaree (2017), Bledstein (1976), Bourdieu (1984, 1986), Mills (1956), Geiger (2015), Thelin (2019), and McGhee (2025).

Tuesday, September 23, 2025

Authoritarian Plutocracy and Higher Education: New Moves under Trump

The term authoritarian plutocracy captures how higher education is being reshaped: rather than overt state control in classic fascist style, what we are witnessing is the systematic hollowing of regulatory protections, the transfer of public funding into private profit, and the disciplining of institutions and individuals by political fiat. In the most recent year, several policy shifts make this trajectory unmistakably visible.

Since assuming (his current) office, Trump’s administration has embarked on sweeping reforms and legislative changes that illustrate how deregulation and elite enrichment are prioritized over the welfare of students, lenders, and institutions. Legislative changes embodied in the Reconciliation Law (signed July 4, 2025) carry radical higher-education implications: it overhauls the federal student aid system; imposes limits on borrowing for graduate and professional students and for parent borrowers; reduces the number and generosity of income-based repayment plans; rolls back accountability measures aimed at protecting students from fraud; delays or reverts protections for those wronged by their institutions; and makes cuts that affect affordability and access. TICAS

One prominent change under the new law is the elimination of the Graduate PLUS loan program, replaced with new annual and lifetime borrowing caps for graduate and professional students. Parent PLUS loans likewise face severe new restrictions. Borrowers in many categories will lose access to multiple repayment plans now in use (e.g. ICR, PAYE, REPAYE, SAVE) and effectively be pushed into just two new repayment pathways: a standard plan and a new “Repayment Assistance Plan.” These reforms will kick in for new borrowers after July 1, 2026, and for current borrowers by 2028 in many cases. TICAS

Another significant shift involves interest and repayment policy for millions of borrowers. The Department of Education has restarted interest accrual on federal student loans under the SAVE plan as of August 1, 2025, following court rulings that blocked parts of the plan. This means those enrolled will begin seeing their loan balances grow again, while being urged to move to other repayment regimes that conform to legal constraints. U.S. Department of Education

Regulatory changes in other areas also reflect the same pattern. Final regulations published in early 2025 address Return to Title IV Funds (R2T4) and rules for distance education and TRIO programs, scheduled to take effect in mid-2026 unless otherwise noted. These rules both tighten and loosen oversight in ways that can benefit institutional actors at the expense of students—by giving schools more flexibility on refunds, changing how module-based courses are treated, and slowing implementation of reporting requirements. NACUBO Meanwhile, some proposed regulatory changes—in cash management (how institutions manage and use financial aid dollars), state authorization, accreditation—were withdrawn by December 2024, signaling a retreat from tighter controls. SPARC+1

Perhaps most emblematic is the ongoing effort to reduce or even dismantle parts of the federal oversight apparatus. In March 2025, Trump signed an executive order directing the Secretary of Education to “facilitate the closure of the Department of Education and return authority over education to the States and local communities.” Simultaneously, a major workforce reduction was announced in the Department. Roughly half of its employees were targeted in layoffs or reassignments as part of a broader reorganization affecting Federal Student Aid and the Office for Civil Rights. A federal court blocked part of the mass layoff effort in May, but the direction is clear: less oversight, fewer protections, more discretion for institutions and private actors. Wikipedia

The cumulative effect of these changes is consistent with what authoritarian plutocracy demands. Borrowers now face fewer repayment options, steeper obligations, and less protection from predatory behavior. Institutions, freed from some regulatory strictures, may gain flexibility—and private firms (including lenders, servicers, edtech providers, OPMs) stand to benefit. The regulatory wind has shifted to favor profit and power; public accountability, student welfare, and equity are increasingly secondary.

In higher education, as elsewhere, what matters isn't only what laws are passed but what and who those laws empower—and what they disable. For students, faculty, and institutions without deep political connections or financial buffers, the risk is that higher education becomes less a public good and more a venture to be leveraged by the powerful.


Recent Sources & Reporting

  • “Provisions Affecting Higher Education in the Reconciliation Law,” TICAS, July 15, 2025 TICAS

  • U.S. Department of Education press release on SAVE plan interest accrual policy, July 9, 2025 U.S. Department of Education

  • “ED Finalizes Rules on Return to Title IV and Distance Education,” NACUBO, Jan. 2025 NACUBO

  • “2024 U.S. Department of Education Negotiated Rulemaking,” SPARC Open SPARC

  • “ED Finalizes Biden-Era Regulations, Withdraws Proposals Amid Transition,” ACE, Jan. 13, 2025 American Council on Education

  • Reporting on proposed closure / layoff / reorg in the Department of Education 

Sunday, September 21, 2025

Charlie Kirk, Milo Yiannopoulos, and the Weaponization of Campus Free Speech

In the last decade, Charlie Kirk and Milo Yiannopoulos emerged as two of the most controversial figures on U.S. campuses. Though different in demeanor, both tapped into a potent formula: using universities as battlegrounds in the culture wars, staging spectacles that blurred the line between political activism, media provocation, and profit.

Yiannopoulos, a former Breitbart editor, built his American notoriety through his 2016–2017 campus speaking tour. His brand was openly flamboyant, camp, and cruel—delighting his fans with ridicule of feminists, Muslims, and LGBTQ activists while enraging opponents. The height of his career came at the University of California, Berkeley, in February 2017, when protests against his scheduled speech escalated into property damage, a police crackdown, and national media coverage. Berkeley—the symbolic birthplace of the 1960s Free Speech Movement—was suddenly cast as the stage for a right-wing provocation about free expression.

But the fallout from Yiannopoulos’s personal life quickly undercut his momentum. Video surfaced of him appearing to condone sexual relationships between older men and boys, remarks he later attempted to reframe as jokes or personal history. The scandal cost him a book deal with Simon & Schuster, led to his resignation from Breitbart, and triggered a cascade of canceled appearances. His sexual provocations, once a source of his appeal, became his undoing in mainstream conservative circles.

Charlie Kirk, meanwhile, chose a steadier path. With Turning Point USA, founded in 2012, he avoided Yiannopoulos’s sexual flamboyance and leaned instead on organization-building, donor cultivation, and a veneer of respectability. TPUSA planted chapters across hundreds of campuses, launched the Professor Watchlist, and turned campus protests into proof of “leftist intolerance.” If Yiannopoulos was the shock jock of campus conservatism, Kirk became its institution-builder.

Yet the connection between them remains. Both recognized the utility of outrage—that protests and cancellations could be reframed as censorship, and that universities could be cast as ideological enemies. Berkeley provided the prototype: a riot in defense of inclusivity was spun into evidence of liberal suppression, fueling conservative mobilization and fundraising.


Donors, Dark Money, and the Business of Outrage

Neither Yiannopoulos nor Kirk could have sustained their visibility without deep-pocketed benefactors and ideological patrons.

Yiannopoulos’s rise was closely tied to the Mercer family, the billionaire backers of Breitbart News who also helped fund Donald Trump’s 2016 campaign. Their patronage gave him a platform at Breitbart and the resources to stage his “Dangerous Faggot Tour.” When the pedophilia scandal erupted, the Mercers swiftly cut ties, leaving him adrift without institutional protection.

Kirk’s Turning Point USA followed a different trajectory, courting a wide network of wealthy conservative donors. According to IRS filings and investigative reports, TPUSA has received millions from the Koch network, Illinois Republican governor Bruce Rauner’s family, and donors linked to the DeVos family. By 2020, TPUSA’s budget topped $30 million annually, making it a financial juggernaut in the campus culture wars. The group’s lavish conferences, slick marketing, and constant media presence depended heavily on this donor pipeline.

These financial networks reveal that both Kirk and Yiannopoulos were never simply “grassroots” activists. They were, in fact, products of elite funding streams, crafted and sustained by billionaire patrons seeking cultural leverage. For universities, that means student protests were never just about clashing ideologies—they were also responses to well-financed operations designed to destabilize higher education as an institution and mobilize a generation of voters.


Kirk’s later alignment with Christian nationalism and the MAGA movement extended his influence far beyond campus politics. His assassination in September 2025 has already created a martyrdom narrative for the right, just as Yiannopoulos’s clashes at Berkeley created symbolic victories, even as his personal scandals consumed him.

For higher education, the legacies of Kirk and Yiannopoulos are instructive. Universities remain prime targets for political entrepreneurs who thrive on outrage, whether their methods are flamboyant and sexualized or organizational and ideological. The question for higher education is not whether these figures will return—others surely will—but whether institutions can resist being drawn, again and again, into spectacles that erode the very idea of the university as a space for learning and dialogue.


Sources

Friday, September 19, 2025

Ivory Towers and Pharma Profits: How Higher Education Fuels Big Pharma’s Bottom Line

As public outrage grows over the astronomical cost of prescription drugs, a quieter but equally consequential dynamic demands scrutiny: the entanglement of higher education institutions with the pharmaceutical industry. Universities—especially those with medical schools and biomedical research centers—have become indispensable players in Big Pharma’s pipeline. While these partnerships often promise innovation and public benefit, they also raise troubling questions about academic independence, ethical boundaries, and the commodification of publicly funded science.

Medical Education: A Curriculum Under Influence

Medical schools are tasked with training future physicians in evidence-based care. Yet many institutions maintain financial ties with pharmaceutical companies that risk compromising the integrity of their curricula. Faculty members often receive consulting fees, research grants, and honoraria from drug manufacturers. In some cases, industry-sponsored materials and lectures are integrated into coursework, subtly shaping how students understand disease treatment and drug efficacy.

This influence extends beyond the classroom. Continuing medical education (CME), a requirement for practicing physicians, is frequently funded by pharmaceutical companies. Critics argue that this model incentivizes the promotion of branded drugs over generics or non-pharmaceutical interventions, reinforcing prescribing habits that benefit corporate interests more than patient outcomes.

University Research: Innovation or Outsourcing?

Academic research is a cornerstone of pharmaceutical development. Universities conduct early-stage investigations into disease mechanisms, drug targets, and therapeutic compounds—often funded by public grants. Pharmaceutical companies then step in to commercialize promising discoveries, assuming control over clinical trials, regulatory approval, and marketing.

While this division of labor can accelerate drug development, it also shifts the locus of control. Universities may prioritize research that aligns with industry interests, sidelining studies that lack commercial appeal. Moreover, corporate sponsors can exert influence over publication timelines, data interpretation, and intellectual property rights. The result is a research ecosystem where profit potential increasingly dictates scientific inquiry.

Case Studies: The University-Pharma Nexus in Action

Harvard University Harvard Medical School has faced scrutiny over the financial relationships between its faculty and pharmaceutical companies. A 2009 investigation by The New York Times revealed that more than 1,600 Harvard-affiliated physicians had financial ties to drug and medical device makers. The controversy sparked student protests and led to reforms requiring faculty to disclose industry ties and limiting pharma-funded materials in classrooms.

Harvard’s research enterprise is deeply intertwined with Big Pharma. Its partnership with Novartis in developing personalized cancer treatments—particularly CAR-T cell therapy—illustrates how academic science feeds into high-cost commercial therapies. While the treatment represents a breakthrough, its price tag (often exceeding $400,000 per patient) raises questions about the public’s return on investment.

Yale University Yale’s collaboration with GlaxoSmithKline (GSK) on PROTACs (proteolysis-targeting chimeras) showcases the university’s role in pioneering new drug technologies. Under the agreement, Yale and GSK formed a joint research team to advance PROTACs from lab concept to clinical candidate. GSK gained rights to use the technology across multiple therapeutic areas, while Yale stood to receive milestone payments and royalties.

Yale’s Center for Clinical Investigation (YCCI) saw an 850% increase in industry-sponsored trials between 2006 and 2019. To address concerns about equity, YCCI launched the Cultural Ambassador Program to diversify trial participation. While this initiative promotes inclusivity, it also serves the interests of pharmaceutical sponsors seeking broader demographic data for regulatory approval.

University of Bristol (UK) The University of Bristol has maintained a decade-long partnership with GSK, spanning vaccine development, childhood disease research, and oral health. GSK funds PhD studentships and undergraduate placements and collaborates on data integrity initiatives. While the partnership aims to improve global health outcomes, it also serves GSK’s need to secure early-stage innovation and talent.

Temple University Temple’s Moulder Center for Drug Discovery Research exemplifies the shift toward academic-led drug discovery. Pharmaceutical companies increasingly rely on centers like this to conduct early-stage research, reducing their own financial risk. As patents expire and blockbuster drugs lose exclusivity, pharma firms turn to universities to replenish their pipelines—often with taxpayer-funded science.

ETH Zurich (Switzerland) ETH Zurich has become a hub for synthetic organic and medicinal chemistry, attracting partnerships with major pharmaceutical firms. Researchers at ETH conduct foundational work that pharma companies later commercialize. This reflects a broader trend: the outsourcing of riskier, cost-intensive research to academic institutions, often without proportional public benefit.

The Dark Legacy of Elite University Medical Centers

Beyond research and education, elite university medical centers have long been implicated in systemic inequality and exploitation. As detailed in The Dark Legacy of Elite Medical Centers, these institutions have historically treated marginalized and low-income patients as expendable research subjects. The term “Medical Apartheid,” coined by Harriet Washington, captures the racial and class-based exploitation embedded in American medical history.

The disparities extend to labor conditions as well. Support staff—often immigrants and people of color—face low wages, poor working conditions, and job insecurity, despite being essential to hospital operations. Meanwhile, early-career researchers and postdocs, many from working-class backgrounds, endure long hours and precarious employment while driving the innovation that fuels Big Pharma’s profits.

Even diversity initiatives at these institutions often fall short, focusing on optics rather than structural reform. As the article argues, “The institutional focus on ‘diversity’ and ‘inclusion’ often overlooks the more significant structural issues, such as the affordability of education, the class-based access to healthcare, and the economic barriers that continue to undermine the ability of disadvantaged individuals to receive quality care.”

Technology Transfer and Patents: The Profit Pipeline

Many universities have established technology transfer offices to manage the commercialization of academic discoveries. These offices negotiate licensing agreements with pharmaceutical companies, often securing royalties or equity stakes in exchange. While such arrangements can generate substantial revenue—especially for elite institutions—they also entangle universities in the profit-driven logic of the pharmaceutical market.

This entanglement has real-world consequences. Drugs developed with public funding and academic expertise are frequently priced out of reach for many patients. The Bayh-Dole Act of 1980, which allows universities to patent federally funded research, was intended to spur innovation. But critics argue it has enabled the privatization of public science, with universities acting as gatekeepers to life-saving treatments.

Ethical Crossroads: Transparency and Reform

The growing influence of Big Pharma in higher education has prompted calls for greater transparency and accountability. Some institutions have implemented conflict-of-interest policies, requiring faculty to disclose financial ties and limiting industry-sponsored events. Student-led movements have also emerged, demanding reforms to ensure that education and research serve the public good rather than corporate profit.

Yet systemic change remains elusive. The financial incentives are substantial, and the boundaries between academia and industry continue to blur. Without robust oversight and a recommitment to academic independence, universities risk becoming complicit in a system that prioritizes shareholder value over human health.

Rethinking the Role of Higher Ed and Medicine

Higher education institutions occupy a unique position in society—as centers of knowledge, innovation, and public trust. Their collaboration with Big Pharma is not inherently problematic, but it must be guided by ethical principles and a commitment to transparency. As the cost of healthcare continues to rise, universities must critically examine their role in the pharmaceutical ecosystem and ask whether their pursuit of profit is undermining their mission to serve the public.

The legacy of elite university medical centers is not just about innovation—it’s also about inequality. Until these institutions confront their role in perpetuating racial and class-based disparities, their contributions to public health will remain compromised.

Sources:

  • The Dark Legacy of Elite University Medical Centers

  • Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health: Pharma and Digital Innovation in China

  • Harvard Business School Case Study: Novartis and Personalized Cancer Treatment

  • Yale Law School: Pharmaceutical Public-Private Partnerships

  • GSK and Yale PROTAC Collaboration Press Release

  • Yale Center for Clinical Investigation Case Study

  • University of Bristol and GSK Case Study

  • Pharmaphorum: Universities and Pharma Companies Need Each Other

  • Chemical & Engineering News: The Great Pharmaceutical-Academic Merger

Thursday, September 18, 2025

Buyer Beware: Why All Schools and Majors Carry Risk — and Why HBCUs Deserve Better

For decades, American students have been told that higher education is the surest ticket to success. Families invest years of savings—or mountains of debt—into a degree, believing it will guarantee upward mobility. But the reality of U.S. higher education in 2025 is far more complex and far less secure. Buyer beware applies not only to shady for-profits or obscure degree programs, but to all schools and all majors.

And within this uneven playing field, Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) face a double bind: undervalued by mainstream rankings and underfunded by the very systems that claim to promote equity.

The Myth of the Golden Ticket

The dominant narrative says: “Go to college, pick the right major, and you’ll be fine.” Politicians repeat it. Universities market it. Parents cling to it. But the promise of a guaranteed return on investment has eroded.

  • Student loan debt now exceeds $1.7 trillion.

  • Nearly 40% of college graduates work in jobs that don’t require a degree, according to the Federal Reserve.

  • Wages for many majors have stagnated, while housing, healthcare, and childcare costs soar.

Even high-demand majors like computer science or nursing come with risks: market saturation, burnout, and outsourcing.

No School Is Immune

Elite schools tout prestige, but that does not insulate graduates from financial stress. Many Ivy League students leave with heavy debt burdens, particularly those without family wealth. Alumni networks can open doors, but they cannot protect against systemic shocks like housing bubbles, pandemics, or global financial crises.

Regional public universities and community colleges provide affordable pathways, but decades of state disinvestment have left many underfunded. For-profits, meanwhile, continue to lure vulnerable students with aggressive marketing and dubious job-placement claims.

And HBCUs—often with smaller endowments and student populations that are more likely to be first-generation and lower-income—have been penalized by these very dynamics, despite their outsized impact.

Every Major Carries Risk

STEM fields are not immune to volatility. Tech layoffs in 2023–2024 showed that even software engineers can face sudden unemployment. Nursing and teaching, often called “recession-proof,” are plagued with overwork, poor pay, and high attrition.

Meanwhile, students in the arts, humanities, and social sciences face the stigma of “low ROI” degrees, even though their fields foster critical thinking, creativity, and civic engagement—the very qualities society desperately needs.

The truth is that all majors are shaped by larger economic forces—automation, globalization, financial speculation, climate disruption—that no individual student can control.

The HBCU Paradox

While all students must be cautious about the promises of higher ed, HBCUs offer something mainstream rankings often ignore: real impact in social mobility and professional pipelines.

  • According to the National Science Foundation, nearly 25% of African American graduates with STEM bachelor’s degrees earned them at HBCUs.

  • More than half of African American doctors and lawyers received their undergraduate degrees at HBCUs.

  • A 2021 Brookings study concluded that HBCUs are “engines of upward mobility,” moving low-income students into higher income brackets at rates equal to or exceeding elite institutions.

Yet, systems like U.S. News & World Report, Forbes, QS, and Times Higher Education continue to underrate HBCUs because their metrics reward institutional wealth and exclusivity, not educational value.

By contrast, Washington Monthly, which measures social mobility, research benefiting society, and community service, consistently ranks HBCUs higher. Their success under these fairer metrics demonstrates how skewed the mainstream rankings truly are.

What Prospective Students Should Ask

Whether applying to an Ivy League university, a regional public, a for-profit, or an HBCU, students should treat college as a major financial investment. That means asking hard questions:

  • What is the total cost of attendance after aid?

  • What percentage of graduates find full-time work in their field within two years?

  • What is the median debt load of graduates—and the median salary five and ten years after?

  • What percentage of students drop out before graduating?

  • How transparent is the school about these outcomes?

A System in Need of Reform

Ultimately, the “buyer beware” crisis in higher education is not about students making poor choices. It is about a system that pushes risk onto individuals while rewarding wealth and privilege.

HBCUs prove that institutions with fewer resources can deliver extraordinary results for students and society. But until rankings, funding formulas, and public policy recognize that value, students across the board will continue to shoulder the risks of a speculative credential market.

In today’s higher education economy, buyer beware applies to all schools and all majors—but students and society alike would be better served if we valued institutions, like HBCUs, that truly deliver on the promise of access and upward mobility.


Sources:

  • Federal Reserve Bank of New York (2023). Labor Market Outcomes of College Graduates.

  • Georgetown University Center on Education and the Workforce (2022). ROI of College Majors.

  • National Center for Education Statistics (2024). Student Loan Debt and Repayment.

  • Brookings Institution (2021). The Economic Mobility of Historically Black Colleges and Universities.

  • UNCF (2020). HBCUs Make America Strong: The Positive Economic Impact of Historically Black Colleges and Universities.

  • Washington Monthly (2024). National University Rankings.

  • National Science Foundation (2022). Women, Minorities, and Persons with Disabilities in Science and Engineering.

Tuesday, September 16, 2025

The Higher Education Inquirer: Six Hundred Thousand Views, and Still Digging

The Higher Education Inquirer has crossed another milestone, reaching more than 600,000 views over the past quarter. For a niche publication without corporate backing, this is a significant achievement. But the real measure of success is not in page views—it is in the stories that matter, the investigations that refuse to die even when the higher education establishment would rather they disappear.

Since its inception, HEI has taken the long view on the crises and contradictions shaping U.S. colleges and universities. We continue to probe the issues that mainstream media outlets often skim or ignore. These are not passing headlines; they are structural problems, many of them decades in the making, that affect millions of students, faculty, staff, and communities.

Among the stories we continue to pursue:

  • Charlie Kirk and Neofascism on Campus: Tracing how right-wing movements use higher education as a recruiting ground, and how student martyrdom narratives fuel a dangerous cycle.

  • Academic Labor and Adjunctification: Investigating the systemic exploitation of contingent faculty, who now make up the majority of the academic workforce.

  • Higher Education and Underemployment: Examining how rising tuition, debt, and credentials collide with a labor market that cannot absorb the graduates it produces.

  • EdTech, Robocolleges, and the University of Phoenix: Following the money as education technology corporations replace faculty with algorithms and marketing schemes.

  • Student Loan Debt and Borrower Defense to Repayment: Tracking litigation, regulatory shifts, and the human toll of a $1.7 trillion debt system.

  • U.S. Department of Education Oversight: Analyzing how federal enforcement waxes and wanes with political cycles, often leaving students exposed.

  • Online Program Managers and Higher Ed Privatization: Investigating the outsourcing of core academic functions to companies driven by profit, not pedagogy.

  • Edugrift and Bad Actors in Higher Education: Naming the profiteers who siphon billions from public trust.

  • Medugrift and University Medicine Oligopolies: Connecting elite medical centers to systemic inequality in U.S. healthcare.

  • Student Protests: Documenting student resistance to injustice on campus and beyond.

  • University Endowments and Opaque Funding Sources: Pulling back the curtain on how universities build wealth while raising tuition.

  • Universities and Gentrification: Exposing the displacement of working-class communities in the name of “campus expansion.”

  • Ambow Education as a Potential National Security Threat: Tracking foreign-controlled for-profit education companies and their entanglements.

  • Accreditation: Examining the gatekeepers of legitimacy and their failure to protect students.

  • International Students: Covering the precarity of students navigating U.S. immigration and education systems.

  • Student Health and Welfare: Looking at how universities fail to provide adequate physical and mental health support.

  • Hypercredentialism: Interrogating the endless inflation of degrees and certificates that drain students’ time and money.

  • Veritas: Pursuing truth in higher education, no matter how uncomfortable.

These are the stories that make HEI more than just a blog—they make it a watchdog. As higher education drifts deeper into corporatization and inequality, we will keep asking difficult questions, exposing contradictions, and documenting resistance.

The numbers are gratifying. But the truth is what matters.

Should Elites Get Bailed Out Again?

In 1929, when the stock market crashed, millions of Americans were plunged into unemployment, hunger, and despair. Yet the elites of Wall Street—whose reckless speculation fueled the disaster—often landed softly. By 1933, as the Great Depression deepened, nearly a quarter of the U.S. workforce was unemployed, thousands of banks had failed, and working families bore the brunt of the collapse. Ordinary people endured soup lines, Dust Bowl migration, and generational poverty. The government of Franklin D. Roosevelt eventually stepped in with reforms and safeguards like the FDIC and Glass-Steagall, but not before working-class Americans had paid the heaviest price.

Fast forward to 2008, when the global financial system once again teetered on collapse. This time, instead of letting the failures run their course, the U.S. government rushed to bail out Wall Street banks, auto manufacturers, and other corporate giants deemed “too big to fail.” Banks survived, CEOs kept their bonuses, and investors were shielded. Meanwhile, millions of working-class families lost their homes, jobs, and savings. Student loan borrowers, particularly those from working-class and minority backgrounds, never got a bailout. Adjunct faculty, contract workers, and gig laborers were left to navigate economic insecurity without systemic relief.

The pandemic brought the same story in a new form. Corporate bailouts, Federal Reserve interventions, and stimulus packages stabilized markets far more effectively than they stabilized households. Wall Street bounced back faster than Main Street. By 2021, the wealth of America’s billionaires had surged by more than $1.8 trillion, while ordinary workers struggled with eviction threats, childcare crises, and medical debt.

But the stakes are even higher today. U.S. elites are not only repeating past mistakes—they are doubling down on mass speculation across crypto, real estate, and equity markets. The rise and collapse of speculative cryptocurrencies revealed how wealth can be created and destroyed almost overnight, with everyday investors bearing the losses while venture capitalists and insiders cashed out early. Real estate speculation has driven housing prices beyond the reach of millions of working families, fueling homelessness and displacement. Equity markets, inflated by cheap debt and stock buybacks, have become disconnected from the real economy, rewarding executives while leaving workers behind.

This speculative frenzy is not just an economic issue—it is an environmental one. Fossil fuel corporations and their financiers continue to reap profits from industries that accelerate climate change, deforestation, and resource depletion. The destruction of ecosystems, the intensification of climate disasters, and the burden of environmental cleanup all fall disproportionately on working-class and marginalized communities. Yet when markets wobble, it is these same polluting elites who position themselves first in line for government protection.

The Federal Reserve has played a decisive role in this cycle. By keeping interest rates artificially low for years, it fueled debt-driven speculation in housing, equities, and corporate borrowing. When inflation spiked, the Fed shifted gears, raising rates at the fastest pace in decades. This brought pain to households through higher mortgage costs, rising credit card balances, and job insecurity—but banks and investment firms continued to receive lifelines through emergency lending facilities. The Fed’s interventions have too often prioritized elite stability over working-class survival.

Political leadership has compounded the problem. Under Donald Trump's first term, deregulation accelerated, with key provisions of the Dodd-Frank Act rolled back in 2018. Banks gained greater leeway to take risks, and oversight of mid-sized institutions weakened—a decision that later contributed to the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank in 2023. Trump’s tax cuts overwhelmingly favored corporations and the wealthy, further concentrating wealth at the top while leaving the federal government less able to respond to future crises. In his second term, Trump and his allies signal that they would pressure the Fed to prioritize markets over workers and strip down remaining regulatory guardrails.

The logic of endless bailouts assumes that the survival of elites ensures the survival of the economy. But history proves otherwise. Whether in 1929, 2008, or 2020, the repeated subsidization of corporations and financial elites entrenches inequality, fuels reckless risk-taking, and leaves working families with the bill. The banks, crypto funds, and private equity firms that profit most during boom times rarely share their gains, yet they demand protection in busts.

And the problem is no longer just domestic—it is geopolitical. While U.S. elites depend on bailouts, rival powers are recalibrating. China is building alternative banking systems through the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank and the Belt and Road Initiative. Russia, sanctioned by the West, is tightening its economic ties with China and other non-Western states. India and Brazil, key players in the BRICS bloc, are exploring alternatives to U.S. dollar dominance. If the U.S. continues to subsidize private failure with public money, it risks undermining its own global credibility and ceding economic leadership to rivals.

National security is directly tied to economic and environmental stability. A U.S. that repeatedly bails out elites while leaving ordinary citizens vulnerable erodes trust not only at home but abroad. Allies may question American leadership, while adversaries see opportunity in its fragility. If the U.S. financial system is perceived as permanently rigged—propping up elites while disempowering its workforce—it will accelerate the shift of global influence toward China, Russia, India, and Brazil.

Perhaps it’s time to let the system fail—not in the sense of mass suffering for ordinary people, but in the sense of refusing to cushion elites from the consequences of their own decisions. If banks gamble recklessly, let them face bankruptcy. If private equity firms strip-mine industries, let them collapse under their own weight. If universities chase speculative growth with predatory lending and overpriced credentials, let them answer for it in the courts of law and public opinion.

Failure, though painful, can also be cleansing. Without bailouts, institutions would be forced to reckon with structural flaws instead of papering them over. Alternatives could emerge: community-based credit unions, worker-owned cooperatives, public higher education funded for the public good rather than private profit, and serious investment in green energy and sustainable development.

The real question is not whether elites deserve another bailout. The real question is whether the United States can afford to keep subsidizing them while undermining its working class, its environment, and its national security. For too long, workers, students, and families have shouldered the costs of elite failure. The survival of the U.S. economy—and its place in the world—may depend not on saving elites, but on building something stronger and fairer in their place.


Sources:

  • Congressional Budget Office, The 2008 Financial Crisis and Federal Response

  • Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, Bank Failures During the Great Depression

  • Institute for Policy Studies, Billionaire Wealth Surge During COVID-19

  • Federal Reserve, Monetary Policy and Emergency Lending Facilities

  • Brookings Institution, Bailouts and Moral Hazard

  • BRICS Policy Center, Alternative Financial Governance Structures

  • Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), Climate Change 2023 Synthesis Report

  • National Association of Realtors, Housing Affordability Data

  • Public Law 115-174, Economic Growth, Regulatory Relief, and Consumer Protection Act (2018)

Monday, September 15, 2025

Truth as Therapy for Higher Education

Anosognosia is the inability to recognize one’s own illness or disability. In higher education, it describes the chronic denial of a system in crisis—one that refuses to admit its own collapse.

For decades, U.S. higher education has been sold as the great equalizer. The story was simple: borrow, study, graduate, succeed. But the data show the opposite. What we are witnessing is a long college meltdown, masked by denial at the highest levels of government, university administrations, and Wall Street.

The Debt Trap

  • Outstanding student loan debt now exceeds $1.77 trillion, burdening more than 43 million Americans.

  • Nearly 20 percent of borrowers are in default or serious delinquency.

  • Black borrowers, especially Black women, carry the heaviest burdens and are least likely to see upward mobility from their degrees.

  • Many in income-driven repayment programs will never pay off principal, living in a permanent state of debt peonage.

Universities and policymakers insist debt is an “investment.” But for millions, it is a generational shackle.

The Exploited Faculty

  • More than 70 percent of college instructors are contingent.

  • Adjuncts often earn less than $3,500 per course, with no healthcare, no retirement, and no security.

  • Roughly one in four adjuncts relies on public assistance.

Universities still market themselves as communities of scholars. In reality, they operate on the same exploitative labor practices as Uber or Amazon.

The Employment Mismatch

  • Four in ten recent grads work in jobs that don’t require a degree.

  • One-third of graduates say their work is unrelated to their major.

  • Median real wages for college graduates have been flat for 25 years.

Still, higher ed pushes “lifelong learning” credentials, turning underemployment into a new revenue stream.

Prestige as Denial

  • At Ivy League universities, 40 percent of students come from the top 5 percent of households.

  • Fewer than 5 percent come from the bottom fifth.

  • Endowments soar—Harvard’s sits at $50 billion—but tuition relief and faculty wages barely budge.

This is not mobility. It is a hereditary elite cloaked in the language of meritocracy.

Climate Contradictions

  • Universities promote sustainability but invest billions in fossil fuels.

  • Campus expansion and luxury amenities drive up emissions, water use, and labor exploitation.

Even here, anosognosia reigns: branding over reality.

The Meltdown Denied

The college meltdown has been unfolding for more than a decade:

  • Small liberal arts colleges shuttering.

  • Regional publics bleeding enrollments.

  • For-profits morphing into “nonprofits” while still funneling money to investors.

  • State funding eroded, shifting the cost to students and families.

But instead of confronting the collapse, higher ed leaders rely on rhetoric: “innovation,” “resilience,” “access.” Like anosognosia, denial itself becomes survival.

The Human Cost

The denial is not harmless. It is measured in:

  • The indebted graduate delaying family formation and homeownership.

  • The adjunct commuting across counties to string together courses while living below the poverty line.

  • The working-class family betting their savings on a degree that will not deliver mobility.

The meltdown is here. Higher education’s inability—or refusal—to admit it ensures the damage will deepen.

Truth and Healing 

Anosognosia prevents healing because it prevents recognition of the problem. U.S. higher education cannot admit its own disease, so it cannot begin recovery. Until it does, students, families, and workers will bear the costs of a system in denial.


Sources

  • Federal Reserve Bank of New York, Quarterly Report on Household Debt and Credit (2025)

  • National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), Digest of Education Statistics (2023)

  • American Association of University Professors (AAUP), Annual Report on the Economic Status of the Profession (2024)

  • Pew Research Center, The Rising Cost of Not Going to College (2023 update)

  • The Century Foundation, Adjunct Project (2022)

  • Chetty et al., Mobility Report Cards: The Role of Colleges in Intergenerational Mobility (2017, with updates)

  • IPEDS (Integrated Postsecondary Education Data System), U.S. Department of Education

  • Harvard Management Company, Endowment Report (2024)

  • Higher Education Inquirer, College Meltdown archive (2018–2025)

Sunday, September 14, 2025

Does China Need US Universities for Its Elite Students?

For decades, U.S. universities have served as the finishing school for China’s elite. Children of Communist Party officials, wealthy businesspeople, and top scientists have often ended up at Harvard, Yale, Stanford, or the Ivy League, polishing their English and acquiring the cultural capital necessary for global finance, diplomacy, and technology. At the same time, thousands of middle-class Chinese families have made enormous financial sacrifices to send their children abroad, betting on an American degree as a ticket to upward mobility.

But the question today is whether China still needs U.S. universities to educate its elite.

Shifting Global Power Dynamics

The rise of China’s own research universities has complicated the old narrative. Institutions such as Tsinghua University and Peking University now rank among the top in the world in science, engineering, and AI research. China produces more STEM graduates annually than any other country, and its funding for science and technology rivals that of the U.S. While U.S. universities still command prestige, their monopoly on global academic excellence has weakened.

Politics and National Security

Relations between Washington and Beijing have soured, and U.S. policymakers increasingly view Chinese students as potential security risks. Visa restrictions on STEM fields, FBI investigations into Chinese scholars, and rhetoric about intellectual property theft have chilled the academic exchange. For Chinese elites, the risks of having children in the U.S. — politically and reputationally — are higher than in the 1990s or 2000s.

Yet at the same time, political figures like Donald Trump have openly courted the financial benefits of Chinese enrollment. Trump has said that China can send 600,000 students to the United States — a number that would far exceed current levels — underscoring the contradiction between security anxieties and the revenue-driven priorities of American higher education.

Meanwhile, China has invested heavily in partnerships with Europe, Singapore, and even African nations to build alternative networks of elite education. For some families, sending a child to Oxford or ETH Zurich carries less geopolitical baggage than Harvard or MIT.

The Prestige Factor

Yet prestige is not easily replicated. An Ivy League degree still carries enormous weight, especially in global finance, law, and diplomacy. American universities remain unmatched in their ability to offer “soft power” — connections, cultural fluency, and credibility in international markets. For Chinese elites with ambitions beyond national borders, U.S. universities still provide networking opportunities that cannot be fully duplicated in Beijing, Shanghai, or Shenzhen.

China’s Billionaires Build Private Universities to Challenge Stanford

In recent years, a number of China’s wealthiest business leaders have begun pouring billions into the creation of new private universities. Their ambitions are not modest: to build research institutions that can compete directly with the world’s most elite schools—Stanford, MIT, Oxford, and Harvard.

At first glance, such aspirations sound quixotic. Building a university brand that rivals Stanford typically takes a century of reputation, research, and networking. Yet, in China, examples already exist to show that rapid ascent is possible.

Westlake and Geely as Proof-of-Concept

Westlake University, founded in Hangzhou just seven years ago by leading biologists, is already outperforming global top 100 schools in specific fields, including the University of Sydney and the University of North Carolina. Its model—deep pockets, aggressive recruitment of top scientists, and a narrow focus on high-impact fields—demonstrates that prestige can be manufactured in years rather than generations.

Geely Automotive Group, meanwhile, established its own university to train engineers, feeding talent directly into one of the world’s largest car manufacturers. Today, Geely ranks among the ten biggest automakers worldwide, with its university playing a central role in workforce development.

A Stanford Model with Chinese Characteristics

The parallel to Stanford is intentional. Stanford thrived not only because of academic excellence but because it was embedded in Silicon Valley, benefiting from venture capital, defense contracts, and a culture of entrepreneurship. China’s industrialists are attempting something similar: building universities adjacent to industrial clusters and pairing them with massive R&D investments.

For billionaires, these institutions serve dual purposes: they act as innovation engines and as political insurance policies. In an era when Beijing has cracked down on tech moguls and capital excesses, aligning one’s fortune with education and national advancement offers a form of protection.

Political Constraints and Academic Freedom

The long-term question is whether these billionaire-founded institutions can sustain the openness and intellectual risk-taking that has characterized Stanford and MIT. While China’s system excels in applied sciences and technology, political controls may limit innovation in social sciences and fields that thrive on dissent, debate, and unconventional thinking.

Still, if the aim is dominance in biotech, engineering, AI, and materials science, the model may succeed. In fact, Westlake’s rapid climb already suggests mid-tier Western universities could soon find themselves leapfrogged by Chinese institutions less than a decade old.

A Changing Balance

So, does China need U.S. universities for its elite? The answer is complicated.

  • Yes, for families who want global reach, especially in finance, technology entrepreneurship, and diplomacy. The cultural capital of an American education still matters.

  • No, for families satisfied with domestic prestige and security. China’s own universities — both traditional public institutions and billionaire-backed ventures — increasingly provide sufficient training for leadership roles.

What is clear is that U.S. universities can no longer assume a steady flow of Chinese elite students. The market has shifted, the politics have hardened, and the prestige gap has narrowed. For American higher education, already struggling with enrollment cliffs and financial strain, this shift could have serious consequences.


Sources:

  • Institute of International Education, Open Doors Report

  • Center for Security and Emerging Technology (CSET), “Chinese STEM Students in the U.S.”

  • Times Higher Education World University Rankings

  • South China Morning Post, Why China’s super-rich are spending billions to set up universities

  • Guangming Daily, Hello, Westlake University

  • CGTN, Westlake University established in Hangzhou

  • Geely Automotive Group, Overview

  • KE Press Global, China's Billionaires Are Building Universities to Drive Innovation and Stay Politically Favorable