From Lie to Myth: How January 6, 2021, Is Being Rewritten

Five years after the violent breach of the U.S. Capitol, January 6, 2021, is already being reframed. Once documented as an unprecedented attack on American democracy—captured in real-time video, congressional testimony, and thousands of contemporaneous reports—it is increasingly portrayed not as a factual event but as a malleable symbol in the service of ideology. Through selective memory, amplification of distortions, and the cultivation of doubt, some narratives depict the day as a “patriotic protest” or a “routine political demonstration gone awry,” erasing violence, shootings, and clear attempts to overturn a certified election.

This phenomenon mirrors a long-standing pattern in U.S. history education. Scholars such as James Loewen have documented how American history textbooks frequently sanitize or mythologize the past. In works like Lies My Teacher Told Me and Lies Across America, Loewen demonstrated that slavery, genocide, systemic oppression, and the struggles of marginalized peoples are often minimized, distorted, or omitted entirely. Textbooks present events in palatable, ideologically convenient ways, softening uncomfortable truths and creating myths that can shape generations’ understanding of history.

The parallels are striking. Episodes of slavery, genocide, and the oppression of indigenous peoples have long faced pressures to be simplified, sanitized, or celebrated as part of a “progressive” or patriotic narrative. These distortions often appear in children’s textbooks, turning lived suffering into background context or moral lessons rather than acknowledging systemic cruelty and resistance. The pattern establishes a precedent for reframing contemporary events, like January 6, in ways that normalize myth over fact.

This process is already visible in Texas and Florida. In Texas, the TEKS (Texas Essential Knowledge and Skills) standards were revised for 2024–2025, requiring students to study slavery and sectionalism. Critics, however, note that Texas textbooks historically minimized slavery as a cause of the Civil War and that initiatives like the 1836 Project promote celebratory narratives of state history, often downplaying oppression and Indigenous dispossession. In Florida, recent social-studies standards have described enslaved people as developing “skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit,” a characterization widely criticized for sanitizing the brutality and systemic oppression of slavery. Florida has also rejected textbooks containing material deemed inconsistent with state standards on “social justice” or critical race theory. As a result, textbooks may present sanitized, recontextualized versions of history that obscure systemic injustice and human suffering.

The consequences are profound. When textbooks mythologize slavery, genocide, or oppression, they normalize the selective telling of history. Students may internalize incomplete or sanitized narratives, making it easier for future events to be reframed or mythologized. Once historical facts are treated as optional or negotiable, myth replaces reality; ideology displaces context; collective memory becomes selective. The rewriting of January 6 is only the latest iteration of a long-standing educational trend documented by Loewen and others: the molding of history to comfort, persuade, or conceal rather than to illuminate.

For educators, historians, journalists, and concerned citizens, the challenge is urgent. Preserving factual records, teaching critical thinking, and highlighting the mechanics of mythmaking are essential to resisting the erasure and distortion of history. January 6, like slavery, genocide, and other atrocities, demonstrates that when truth is optional, democracy itself is at risk. Recognizing the difference between lie, myth, and historical reality is not merely academic—it is central to defending memory, civic understanding, and the integrity of public discourse.

---

Sources

1. Loewen, James. Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong. New York: The New Press, 1995.

2. Loewen, James. Lies Across America: What Our Historic Sites Get Wrong. New York: The New Press, 1999.

3. Texas State Board of Education. 2024–2025 TEKS Social Studies Crosswalk (Kindergarten–Grade 8).

4. “How some Texas parents and historians say a new state curriculum glosses over slavery and racism,” Texas Tribune, Nov. 18, 2024.

5. Thomas B. Fordham Institute critique of 2010–2014 Texas history standards.

6. “Florida’s new social‑studies standards on Black history stir outrage over embrace of ‘benefits,’” TIME, July 2023.

7. Reporting on textbook rejections and curriculum restrictions in Florida under Governor Ron DeSantis.

8. Wikipedia: The 1836 Project — background and aims.

9. Studies and critiques of bias in curricula and textbooks — how history can be whitewashed, sanitized, or mythologized in official education materials.

When the Grants Disappear, So Does the Mission: MSI funding, institutional priorities, and the coming test of “social mobility” (Glen McGhee)

A recent opinion from the Department of Justice’s Office of Legal Counsel declares that federal Minority-Serving Institution (MSI) programs are unlawful because they allocate funding based on the racial composition of enrolled students. The ruling immediately throws hundreds of campuses—and the students they serve—into uncertainty. But beyond the legal debate lies a more revealing institutional reckoning: if MSI grants disappear, will colleges actually fund these programs themselves?

The short answer, based on decades of evidence, is no.

For years, colleges and universities have framed MSI grants as proof of their commitment to access, equity, and social mobility. Yet those commitments have always been conditional. They have depended on external federal subsidies rather than first-principles institutional priorities. Now that the funding stream is threatened, the gap between rhetoric and reality is about to widen dramatically.

The scale of what is being cut is not trivial. Discretionary MSI programs—serving Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs), Asian American and Native American Pacific Islander–Serving Institutions (AANAPISIs), Predominantly Black Institutions (PBIs), and others—have collectively provided hundreds of millions of dollars annually for tutoring, advising, counseling, faculty development, and basic academic infrastructure. These grants have often been the difference between persistence and attrition for low-income students, many of whom are first-generation and Pell-eligible.

Yet MSI funding has also sustained something else: a sprawling administrative apparatus dedicated to grant writing, compliance, reporting, assessment, and “outcomes tracking.” Entire offices exist to chase, manage, and justify these funds. This is the professional-managerial class infrastructure that has come to dominate higher education—highly credentialed, compliance-oriented, and deeply invested in external funding streams.

Follow the money, and a pattern becomes clear. When federal or state funding declines, colleges do not trim administrative overhead. They cut instruction. They cut tutoring. They cut advising. They cut student-facing programs that lack powerful internal constituencies. Administrative spending, by contrast, is remarkably durable. It rarely shrinks, even in moments of fiscal crisis.

We have seen this movie before. When state appropriations fell over the past decade, public universities raised tuition and reduced instructional spending rather than dismantling administrative layers. When DEI offices were banned or defunded in several states, institutions eliminated student services and laid off staff, then quietly absorbed the savings into general operations. There was no surge in faculty hiring, no reinvestment in instruction, no serious attempt to replace lost support with institutional dollars.

MSI grants will follow the same path. Colleges may offer short-term “bridge funding” to manage optics and morale, but that support will be temporary and partial. The language administrators use—“assessing impacts,” “exploring alternatives,” “seeking private donors”—is a familiar signal that programs are being triaged, not saved.

Could institutions afford to self-fund these programs if they truly wanted to? In most cases, no—or at least not without making choices they refuse to make. Endowments are largely restricted and already used to paper over structural deficits. Tuition increases are politically and economically constrained at campuses serving low-income students. Federal aid flows through institutions but cannot be repurposed for operations. There is no hidden pool of fungible money waiting to be redirected.

What would replacing MSI funding actually require? Cutting administrative spending. Reducing executive compensation. Scaling back amenities and non-instructional growth. Reprioritizing instruction and academic support over branding and “customer experience.” These are choices institutions have consistently shown they will not make.

This is why the rhetoric of social mobility rings hollow. Colleges celebrate access and equity when the costs are externalized—when federal grants pay for the work and compliance offices manage the paperwork. But when that funding disappears, so does the institutional courage to sustain the mission.

The contrast with historically Black colleges and tribal colleges is instructive. Their core federal funding survives precisely because it is tied to historical mission rather than contemporary enrollment metrics, and because these institutions have long-standing political champions. That distinction exposes the truth: what is preserved is not equity, but power.

The coming months will bring program closures, staff layoffs, and diminished support for the students MSI grants were designed to serve. What we will not see, despite solemn statements and carefully worded emails, is a widespread commitment by colleges to fund these programs themselves.

The test is simple and unforgiving. If social mobility were truly a foundational principle of higher education, institutions would treat MSI programs as essential—not optional, not grant-contingent, not expendable. They would pay for them out of their own budgets.

They won’t.

And in that refusal, the performance ends. The mission statements remain, but the money moves elsewhere.

Sources

Inside Higher Ed, “DOJ Report Declares Minority-Serving Institution Programs Unlawful,” December 22, 2025.

U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Legal Counsel, Opinion on Minority-Serving Institution Grant Programs, 2025.

U.S. Department of Education, Title III and Title V Program Data, Fiscal Years 2020–2025.

Government Accountability Office, Higher Education: Trends in Administrative and Instructional Spending, various reports.

Delta Cost Project / American Institutes for Research, Trends in College Spending, 2003–2021.

State Higher Education Executive Officers Association (SHEEO), State Higher Education Finance Reports, 2010–2024.

University of California Office of the President, California State Auditor Reports on Administrative Spending and Reserves.

Texas Higher Education Coordinating Board; Florida Board of Governors; UNC System Office, public records and budget documents on DEI office eliminations, 2024–2025.

Bloomberg News and Associated Press reporting on DEI bans and campus program closures, 2024–2025.

National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), IPEDS Finance and Enrollment Data.

American Council on Education, Endowment Spending and Restrictions in Higher Education.

IRS Form 990 filings and audited financial statements of selected public and private universities.

Columbia University public statements on federal research funding disruptions, 2025.

University of Hawaiʻi system communications on federal grant losses and bridge funding, 2025.

Congressional Budget Justifications, U.S. Department of Education, FY2025–FY2026.

Ehrenreich, Barbara and John, The Professional-Managerial Class, and subsequent scholarship on administrative growth in higher education.

Student Borrower Protection Center, Student Debt and Institutional Finance, 2024–2025.

Violence, Safety, and the Limits of Campus Security: From MIT to Brown and Beyond

The Monday killing of MIT professor Nuno F.G. Loureiro at his home in Brookline, Massachusetts has shaken the academic community and reinforced a troubling reality already examined in Higher Education Inquirer’s recent reporting on campus safety and mental health: violence affecting higher education in the United States is neither isolated nor confined to campus boundaries.

Loureiro, a Portuguese-born physicist and internationally respected scholar in plasma science and fusion research, was a senior leader at MIT and director of its Plasma Science and Fusion Center. His death occurred off campus, yet it reverberated powerfully within higher education because it underscores how scholars, students, and staff exist within a broader national environment shaped by widespread gun violence, strained mental-health systems, and limited preventive safeguards.

Authorities have confirmed the incident as a homicide. At the time of writing, no suspect has been publicly identified, and investigators have released few details about motive. The uncertainty has compounded the shock felt by colleagues, students, and international collaborators who viewed Loureiro as both a scientific leader and a deeply committed mentor.

---

A Pattern, Not an Anomaly

Loureiro’s killing followed a series of violent incidents tied to U.S. college campuses throughout 2025, reinforcing that these events are not aberrations but part of a broader pattern.

Just days earlier, a deadly shooting at Brown University left two students dead and several others wounded when a gunman opened fire in an academic building during final exams. The attack disrupted campus life, forced lockdowns, and exposed vulnerabilities in building access and emergency response procedures.

Earlier in the year, Florida State University experienced a mass shooting in a heavily trafficked campus area, resulting in multiple fatalities and injuries. The suspect, a student, was taken into custody, but the psychological impact on students and faculty persisted long after classes resumed.

At Kentucky State University, a shooting inside a residence hall claimed the life of a student and critically injured another. The alleged shooter was not a student but a parent, underscoring how campus violence increasingly involves individuals with indirect or external connections to institutions.

In September 2025, violence took an explicitly political turn when Charlie Kirk, founder of Turning Point USA, was assassinated during a public speaking event at Utah Valley University. Kirk was shot during a large outdoor gathering attended by thousands. The killing, widely described as a political assassination, was unprecedented in recent U.S. campus history and raised urgent questions about security at high-profile events, free expression, and political polarization within academic spaces.

Together, these incidents — spanning elite private universities, public flagship institutions, regional campuses, and HBCUs — illustrate how violence in higher education now crosses institutional type, geography, and purpose, from classrooms and residence halls to public forums and nearby neighborhoods.

---

The Limits of Traditional Campus Safety Models

HEI’s recent analysis of U.S. campus safety emphasized a central tension: colleges and universities rely heavily on reactive security measures — armed campus police, surveillance infrastructure, emergency alerts — while underinvesting in prevention, mental-health care, and community-based risk reduction.

The events of 2025 highlight the limitations of these approaches. Even well-resourced institutions cannot fully secure campus perimeters or prevent violence originating beyond institutional control. Nor can security infrastructure alone address the social isolation, untreated mental illness, ideological extremism, and easy access to firearms that underlie many of these incidents.

Federal compliance frameworks such as the Clery Act prioritize disclosure and reporting rather than prevention. Meanwhile, the expansion of campus policing has often mirrored broader trends in U.S. law enforcement, raising concerns about militarization without clear evidence of improved safety outcomes.

---

Violence Beyond Active Shooters

While mass shootings and assassinations draw national attention, they represent only one part of a wider landscape of harm in higher education. HEI has documented other persistent threats, including hazing deaths, sexual violence, domestic abuse, stalking, false threats that provoke armed responses, and institutional failures to protect vulnerable populations.

Mental health remains a critical and often neglected dimension. Many acts of campus-related violence intersect with untreated mental illness, financial stress, academic pressure, and inadequate access to care — conditions exacerbated by rising tuition, housing insecurity, and uneven campus support systems.

For international students in particular, exposure to U.S. gun violence and emergency lockdowns can be deeply destabilizing, challenging assumptions about safety that differ sharply from conditions in other countries.

---

An Urgent Moment for Higher Education

The deaths of individuals such as Professor Loureiro and Charlie Kirk, alongside students at Brown, Florida State, and Kentucky State, underscore a central truth: American campuses do not exist apart from the society around them. No amount of prestige, branding, or technology can fully insulate higher education from national patterns of violence.

For administrators and policymakers, the lesson is not simply to harden security, but to rethink safety holistically — integrating physical protection with mental-health infrastructure, transparent accountability, community engagement, and policies that address deeper cultural and structural drivers of violence.

As Higher Education Inquirer has argued, campus safety is inseparable from broader questions of public health, social policy, and institutional responsibility. Without sustained attention to these connections, tragedies across U.S. campuses will continue to be framed as shocking exceptions rather than symptoms of a deeper and ongoing crisis.

---

Sources

Associated Press reporting on the MIT professor killing
Reuters coverage of campus shootings in 2025
Reporting on the Brown University shooting
Coverage of the Florida State University shooting
Reporting on the Kentucky State University residence hall shooting
PBS NewsHour and national reporting on the Charlie Kirk assassination at Utah Valley University
Higher Education Inquirer – Understanding U.S. Campus Safety and Mental Health: Guidance for International Students

Pete Hegseth, Authoritarian Drift, and the Shrinking Democratic World: What His Latest Rhetoric Means for Ukraine, Taiwan, Latin America—and for the Manufacturing of a New U.S. War

Secretary of War Pete Hegseth’s latest comments on US military strategy signal a willingness to concede strategic ground, democratic alignment, and even moral authority to China and Russia. His rhetoric is not isolationism so much as resignation, a public abdication of democratic commitments that authoritarians in Moscow and Beijing have been hoping to hear for years.

In Hegseth’s telling, defending democracy abroad is optional, alliances are burdens rather than assets, and the global contest between democratic and authoritarian systems is someone else’s problem. This shift, echoed by others within his political orbit, effectively clears a path for China and Russia to expand their influence unchecked. It is the kind of rhetorical retreat that changes geopolitical behavior long before any formal policy is announced.

For Ukraine, Hegseth’s posture is devastating. Ukraine is not only fighting for its own survival but also anchoring the principle that borders cannot be erased by force. Every time prominent American voices depict Ukraine as a “distraction” or a “European problem,” the Kremlin hears permission. It emboldens Russia’s belief that with enough pressure and enough delay, Western unity will fracture. When U.S. resolve appears uncertain, Russian aggression becomes more likely, not less.

The implications for Taiwan are even more dire. Taiwan’s security rests partly on deterrence—the sense in Beijing that an attempted invasion would trigger an unpredictable coalition response. Hegseth’s rhetoric eats away at that uncertainty. When influential figures suggest Taiwan is too distant, too complicated, or too costly to defend, they send a clear message to Beijing: Taiwan stands alone. That perception, even if strategic theater, is dangerous enough to destabilize the region. It emboldens Chinese hardliners who believe the U.S. is tired, divided, and ready to cede the Western Pacific. For Taiwanese citizens, the erosion of deterrence threatens to collapse the delicate equilibrium that has preserved their democracy for decades.

The damage is not confined to Eurasia. Latin America—long an arena of soft-power competition—is already shifting toward Chinese and Russian influence. As U.S. leaders telegraph indifference or geopolitical fatigue, Beijing and Moscow expand their economic, security, and technological footprint. Surveillance systems, infrastructure deals with opaque terms, paramilitary cooperation, and coordinated disinformation campaigns fill the vacuum Washington helped create. Countries grappling with inequality and political instability increasingly view China and Russia as stable partners—precisely because the United States appears to be backing away. Hegseth’s rhetoric accelerates this hemispheric reorientation.

China and Russia are also advancing what experts call a “4G war,” leveraging cyber operations to strike at critical infrastructure globally. Power grids, financial networks, transportation systems, and communication backbones are increasingly vulnerable to state-sponsored cyberattacks, which can be executed remotely, anonymously, and at strategic scale. These digital assaults amplify physical geopolitical pressure without conventional troop movements. In a world where the U.S. retreats rhetorically and hesitates militarily, authoritarian cyber campaigns gain a force-multiplying effect: they destabilize economies, undermine public confidence, and signal that authoritarian states can achieve strategic objectives without firing a single shot—while democracies debate whether to respond.

All of this unfolds alongside an unnerving domestic trend: the increasing normalization of deploying the U.S. military inside the United States for political and symbolic ends. The occupation of Washington, D.C., following periods of unrest—an unprecedented show of military force in the nation’s capital—has now become a reference point rather than an aberration. Calls for troops at the southern border have grown louder, more casual, and more openly political. The idea of using active-duty forces for immigration enforcement—long considered a violation of democratic norms—has seeped into mainstream discourse. These domestic deployments do not exist in isolation; they reflect a broader comfort with authoritarian tools at home, even as some political figures argue that defending democracy abroad is unnecessary. It is a worldview that diminishes democracy both outwardly and inwardly.

Compounding these geopolitical and domestic retreats is a disturbing pattern: the willingness of U.S. leaders to manufacture conflict abroad for political gain. In an era when corporate media outlets increasingly avoid stories that challenge concentrated power, The American Prospect continues to do the work journalism was meant to do. Few embody that mission more consistently than David Dayen. His Dayen on TAP newsletters have become essential reading for anyone trying to understand how political decisions intertwine with economic power and democratic fragility.

Dayen’s December 1st dispatch is a masterclass in clarity. While many newsrooms chase horse-race narratives and meme-ready outrage, Dayen focuses on something far more consequential: the construction of a new U.S. war. And disturbingly, it bears the unmistakable imprint of the media-manufactured Spanish-American War—false premises, theatrical moralizing, and elite financial interests waiting eagerly behind the curtain.

The justification being sold to the public is fentanyl trafficking, despite U.S. agencies confirming that fentanyl production in Venezuela is essentially nonexistent. The real audience is a narrow faction of right-wing Venezuelan exiles in South Florida whose political demands have long shaped Senator Marco Rubio’s foreign policy. With an administration drawn to action-based optics and largely unbothered by legality, the machinery of pretextual warfare is already in motion: lethal maritime strikes of dubious legality, deployed carrier groups, unilaterally “closed” airspace, covert operations greenlit, and the political runway being cleared for a possible land invasion.

Hovering over all of this is the unmistakable scent of patronage. The judicial approval of selling Citgo to Elliott Investment Management—Paul Singer’s hedge fund, tightly linked to Rubio’s political ecosystem—raises troubling questions about whose interests are truly being served. Dayen’s reporting suggests a war effort crafted not around national strategy, human rights, or hemispheric stability, but around satisfying a small, wealthy, politically potent constituency.

Yet perhaps the most troubling part of this moment is not only the drift toward authoritarian powers, the normalization of using the military inside the United States, or the manufacturing of new conflicts—but the near-total silence of American universities. Institutions that once prided themselves on fostering democratic discourse, civic literacy, and dissent now largely avoid discussions of foreign policy—particularly when such discussions might anger donors, trustees, or state legislatures. Faculty navigate precarious employment. Administrators fear political retribution. Students, drowning in debt and economic insecurity, have little time or institutional support to engage deeply with global issues. At the very moment when democratic norms are eroding at home and authoritarian influence is expanding abroad, the institutions charged with educating citizens have retreated.

If this trend continues, China and Russia will not simply gain ground. They will redraw the global map. The democratic world will shrink. The consequences will be felt long after the speeches, the staged outrage, and the fundraising cycles have passed. And as U.S. universities remain timid, unwilling or unable to confront collapsing democratic commitments, the vacuum deepens. In a world where silence is interpreted as acquiescence, higher education’s retreat becomes more than a missed opportunity—it becomes complicity.

---

Sources

– David Dayen, Dayen on TAP, The American Prospect, December 1, 2025.
– Public statements and broadcasts by Pete Hegseth (2024–2025).
– U.S. Department of State and DoD briefings on Ukraine, Taiwan, and Venezuela.
– DEA and State Department assessments on fentanyl production in Venezuela.
– Court filings relating to the Citgo sale and Elliott Investment Management.
– Reports on PRC and Russian influence in Latin America (CSIS, Wilson Center, academic research).
– Analysis of PRC and Russian cyber operations (“4G war”) on global infrastructure (power grids, transportation, financial systems).
– Congressional statements and policy proposals on U.S. military border enforcement.
– Documentation and analysis of military deployments in Washington, D.C., 2020–2025.

When Educators Back the Cheating Platform: The Strange Case of Chegg (Glen McGhee)

Chegg — once a poster child for pandemic-era edtech growth — is now in free fall. In 2025 the company announced it would slash 45 % of its workforce, citing plunging web traffic, collapsing revenue, and the onslaught of AI tools that let students bypass paid homework help altogether.

It’s a dramatic reversal for a company that sold itself as a learning aid. But behind that collapse lies an even more troubling paradox: many teacher pension funds and public retirement systems — in whose names educators put decades of trust — hold millions in Chegg stock. Why would those funds invest in a company whose business model many of their own beneficiaries see as unethical, even corrosive?

We’ve seen this pattern before. In the early 2000s, retirement funds like these were major institutional investors in for-profit higher education companies such as EDMC, ITT Tech, and the University of Phoenix. Those institutions promised strong returns but ultimately collapsed under fraud allegations, predatory practices, and declining enrollments. Many public-sector workers indirectly suffered as the funds lost money. Chegg’s story looks eerily similar: high growth promises, an ethically contested business model, and exposure of public retirement funds to extreme financial risk. The repetition suggests a structural pattern: when education is financialized and commodified, the people meant to serve it — educators and students — are exposed to both moral and economic hazards.

---

The Downward Spiral: Why Chegg Is Crashing

Chegg’s decline didn’t begin yesterday. It was seeded by technological disruption and a fragile business model dependent on volume, content access, and student compliance. Generative AI tools such as ChatGPT and Bard have undercut Chegg’s core service: paid homework help and explanations. Students can often get free answers faster and more flexibly. Google’s “AI overviews,” which display answer snippets directly in search results, divert traffic away from Chegg’s site, reducing ad and subscription conversions. Chegg has even sued Google, alleging unfair competition.

Earlier in 2025, Chegg laid off 22 % of its staff and closed its U.S. and Canada offices to cut costs. That was supposed to be a stabilization move, but it foreshadowed deeper troubles. The more recent 45 % layoff is sweeping: 388 jobs are being cut, $15–19 million in severance charges are expected, and $100–110 million in cost savings are projected for 2026. Chegg’s stock has lost approximately 99 % of its value since its 2021 peak. Yet the company is still pursuing a pivot toward B2B “skilling” markets, though skeptics doubt whether this can make up for the erosion of its original model. In short, Chegg is facing structural obsolescence. The ecosystem that once made its growth plausible is collapsing around it.

---

Pension Funds and the Strange Attraction to Chegg

Several public pension and teachers’ retirement systems hold millions in Chegg: Kentucky Teachers’ Retirement System owns $4.5 million, California State Teachers’ Retirement System owns $4 million, New York State Common Retirement Fund owns $13 million, Colorado Public Employees’ Retirement Fund owns $9.3 million, California Public Employees’ Retirement Fund owns $5.3 million, a Florida retirement fund owns $3.3 million, Ohio Public Employees Retirement owns $1.5 million, and the Teacher Retirement System of Texas owns $630,000.

These investments raise hard questions. Do pension fund managers assume Chegg will survive its technological disruption? Are they prioritizing short-term returns over long-term reputational or ethical risk? Do they believe the stock is undervalued and thus a “contrarian bet”? Are they following passive index allocations rather than making deliberate choices? Some fund managers defend such investments as fulfilling fiduciary duty: to maximize returns for their beneficiaries within acceptable risk parameters. Ethical considerations, they argue, should not trump financial sustainability — especially in a system underfunded and under stress. But when the bet fails, the consequences fall hardest on retirees, educators, and the public who trusted those funds to safeguard their futures.

---

Do We Owe Them Sympathy?

It’s tempting to feel a bit sorry: pension funds losing money is a headline nobody wants. But sympathy is complicated. These funds store and grow the life savings of public-sector workers — teachers, librarians, and staff. A poorly timed speculative investment can damage retiree security and erode public trust. On the other hand, this is no innocent failure; it is a foreseeable risk in backing a business facing existential challenges. It reflects a broader pattern of financialization in education: turning learning into a profit-seeking venture, exposing it to wild swings, and treating educators and students as market participants. Losses are regrettable, especially at the human level, but they also demand accountability. Institutions must explain why they placed trust in Chegg when its vulnerabilities were visible.

---

What This Reveals: Institutional Contradiction

This episode exposes several deeper contradictions at the intersection of education, finance, and values. Many educators see Chegg as a threat to academic integrity, yet the institutions managing their retirement funds believed in its upside. Some investors are attracted to the “turnaround bet,” seeing potential in a company trading at a fraction of its former value, though the risk is very high. Some funds may hold Chegg because their portfolios track broad indices, ceding moral discretion to the market. Education has become infrastructure built on venture logic, and the Chegg collapse is a warning: when learning becomes a commodity, its institutions become as unstable as any tech startup. Finally, if pension funds backed a cheating-enabled platform, what else might their capital support, and how does that affect trust in those institutions?

---

A Moral and Institutional Reckoning 

Chegg’s collapse is not just a market drama; it’s a moral and institutional reckoning. A company built on a questionable model is now evaporating under AI pressure. Meanwhile, public pension funds — meant to safeguard the futures of educators — placed bets on that very evaporation.

We might feel a pang of sympathy for the financial losses. But our greater duty is to probe the judgment of those entrusted with public capital, and to demand coherence between values and investment. If the administrators of teacher retirement funds cannot align ethics with asset allocation, then their claims to serving the public good are weakened — and so is the trust on which the idea of public education depends.

---

Sources

Barron’s: “Chegg Is Suing Google. The Stock Is Sinking.”
Reuters: “Chegg to lay off 22% of workforce as AI tools shake up edtech industry.”
SF Chronicle: “Bay Area educational tech company slashes 248 jobs as students turn to AI tools for learning.”
The Cheatsheet Substack: “Meet Chegg’s Biggest Backers.”
The Chronicle of Higher Education: “Work in Public Education and Hate Chegg? You Might Be an Investor.”
Wikipedia: “Chegg”

Throwing the Flag for the Fourth Time: U.S. College Students Are Still Gambling with Student Aid

In this fourth installment of our continuing investigation into student gambling, one issue looms larger than ever: the misuse of student financial aid to fund risky betting behavior. This is not an isolated anomaly or a cautionary footnote. It is a widespread and worsening crisis that reveals the vulnerabilities in a higher education system increasingly entangled with digital addiction and financial exploitation.

An estimated one in five U.S. college students has used student aid—whether federal loans, Pell Grants, or other education funds—to place bets, often through mobile sports betting platforms. These findings, confirmed in recent surveys by Intelligent.com and state gambling councils, expose a troubling truth: higher education is not just failing to prevent this behavior; it may be silently enabling it.

Since the 2018 Supreme Court decision that overturned the federal ban on sports betting, online gambling has exploded in popularity. Students can now place bets with a few taps on their phones, often encouraged by targeted promotions, social media ads, and campus culture. A 2023 NCAA survey showed that nearly 60 percent of 18- to 22-year-olds had engaged in sports betting, with as many as 41 percent betting on their own school’s teams. What was once considered deviant is now normalized.

Financial aid, originally intended to help students pay for tuition, housing, and books, has become a silent reservoir for gambling losses. Students who misuse these funds often do so quietly, making it easy for the behavior to go undetected until academic or financial disaster strikes. This is not only a matter of personal irresponsibility but of systemic neglect. With little oversight of how aid money is spent after disbursement, students can easily divert those funds toward high-risk activities without triggering institutional red flags.

The consequences are severe. Students who gamble with loan money frequently fall behind on rent and tuition. Some accumulate additional credit card debt. Many report heightened levels of anxiety, depression, and academic disengagement. A subset drops out entirely—often with thousands of dollars in nondischargeable debt and no degree to show for it. What we’re witnessing is the transformation of long-term educational debt into a form of speculative entertainment, with young people bearing the cost and the state underwriting the risk.

Colleges and universities, for the most part, have done little to stop this. Fewer than a quarter have any formal gambling policy in place. Counseling centers are often underfunded and untrained in gambling-specific treatment. Awareness campaigns are limited and usually reactive. Meanwhile, the gambling industry continues to rake in profits and expand its reach on college campuses, sometimes through sponsorship deals or targeted advertisements that blur the lines between athletics, student identity, and wagering.

The NFL Foundation’s $600,000 commitment to gambling awareness may be well-intentioned, but it’s woefully insufficient when compared to the scale of the problem and the profits at stake. While a handful of schools have taken steps to limit advertising or incorporate gambling risk into financial literacy programs, these measures remain the exception rather than the rule.

This is not a moral panic. It is a public health crisis driven by the same factors that have fueled other digital addictions: rapid technological change, corporate lobbying, student precarity, and institutional inaction. It is part of a broader shift toward what we’ve described in previous articles as “digital dope”—a system in which tech companies engineer compulsive behaviors for profit, and colleges quietly adjust to a reality where student attention, money, and mental health are fair game.

The normalization of gambling, especially among male students, mirrors other troubling trends we’ve reported: rising alcohol abuse, declining classroom engagement, and growing alienation from educational institutions. Many of these students are not just gambling because it’s fun—they are using it to escape a deeper sense of disconnection, uncertainty, and despair.

To meaningfully address this crisis, institutions must confront the uncomfortable truth that financial aid is being used to subsidize digital addiction. That means enforcing clear restrictions on gambling app promotions, integrating gambling screening into student health protocols, rethinking how aid is distributed and monitored, and establishing formal policies that treat gambling risk with the same urgency as alcohol or drug abuse.

In publishing our fourth report on student gambling, The Higher Education Inquirer again asks: how many warnings are needed before the problem is acknowledged at scale? How many more students must drop out, spiral into debt, or fall into addiction before administrators, lawmakers, and the Department of Education take this seriously?

The answers are not hard to find. What’s missing is the will to act.

Sources:
Intelligent.com (2022, 2023), College Student Gambling Surveys
NCAA (2023), Sports Betting Participation Data
Nevada Council on Problem Gambling (2024)
Florida Council on Compulsive Gambling (2023)
CollegeGambling.org
Time Magazine (2024), “An Explosion in Sports Betting Is Driving Gambling Addiction Among College Students”
Kindbridge (2025), “Is America in the Middle of a College Student Gambling Addiction Crisis?”
Addiction.Rutgers.edu (2024), “The Rise of Sports Betting Among College Students”
HigherEducationInquirer.org (2025), “Student Aid and Student Gambling: Risky Connection”

The Case Against Higher Education Reform (Glen McGhee)

For decades, critics and policymakers have argued that American higher education could be “fixed” through better management, new credentials, accountability systems, or market competition. But the evidence now points to a sobering reality: the time for meaningful reform has passed. What remains is a structurally inert system staggering toward collapse, incapable of adapting in ways that would meaningfully serve students, faculty, or the broader society.

Too Late: The System Has Already Crystallized

Sociologists Michael Hannan and John Freeman warned in 1984 that organizations often fall prey to “structural inertia,” creating a form of lock-in that makes real transformation virtually impossible. Today’s higher education sector exemplifies their theory.

Since 2010, undergraduate enrollment has declined by more than 15%, representing 2.7 million fewer students nationwide. The FAFSA fiasco of 2024–25 alone is expected to result in hundreds of thousands fewer freshmen, according to Brookings. This is not gradual adjustment but systemic breakdown occurring within institutions whose structures are too rigid to respond.

The so-called “demographic cliff” beginning in 2025 will accelerate these failures. The Philadelphia Federal Reserve predicts that 1 in 10 U.S. colleges faces “significant financial distress” in the next decade. Closures are already mounting: Birmingham-Southern College in Alabama shut its doors in 2024 after 168 years, despite political lobbying and emergency funding attempts. In Vermont, the Vermont State Colleges System closed three campuses in 2020, citing declining enrollment and unsustainable costs. In Massachusetts, Mount Ida College collapsed in 2018, leaving students stranded. These are not isolated cases—they are signs of a broader unraveling.

No Power, No Resources: Reform Advocates Lack Institutional Leverage

Those demanding reform—students burdened by debt, adjuncts trapped in precarity, or concerned citizens—lack meaningful power within entrenched governance structures. Administrative hierarchies create what organizational theorists call “hierarchical inertia”: resistance to bottom-up change.

Between 2010 and 2018, spending on administrative services grew by 25%, compared with only 16% growth in instructional spending. Administrative salaries rose faster than faculty pay, and presidents of elite private universities now routinely earn over $1 million annually, while the median adjunct pay per course hovers around $3,500.

Meanwhile, the faculty workforce has stratified into a rigid caste system: 48% of all faculty are adjuncts, compared with only 33% who are tenure-track. Nearly one in four adjuncts qualifies for some form of public assistance, according to the American Federation of Teachers.

Higher Education as a Caste System

The metaphor of higher education as a caste system is not rhetorical exaggeration—it is sociological description.

• Academic labor: Adjuncts teach 60–70% of all undergraduate courses at some public universities, yet lack benefits, job security, or office space.

• Institutional prestige: The top 20 U.S. universities control nearly $400 billion in endowment wealth, while the median endowment across all institutions is less than $200 million—a disparity that drives inequality in faculty hiring, research opportunities, and student aid.

• Student access: Federal data show that students from the top income quartile are five times more likely to attend a selective university than students from the bottom quartile.

As one adjunct professor bitterly described it: “I guess I am in the Sudra—servant—class.”

Path Dependence and the Logic of Lock-In

American higher education is path dependent: historical decisions have created self-reinforcing mechanisms that are now nearly impossible to undo.

The feedback loops are obvious. Average tuition has tripled (in real dollars) since 1980, while total student loan debt now exceeds $1.7 trillion, owed by more than 43 million borrowers. Tuition hikes fuel administrative growth, which requires even higher tuition. Federal student loans underwrite rising costs, which then justify further loan expansion.

Even when institutions attempt reform, history traps them. Consider New College of Florida, a small public liberal arts institution: under political pressure in 2023, its governance was remade to align with a conservative ideological agenda. The result has been turmoil, plummeting enrollment, and national headlines—but no structural fix to the deeper financial instability.

The sector has reached what economists call “quasi-irreversibility”: a point beyond which reform cannot meaningfully occur without collapse.

The Futility of Cosmetic Solutions

The reforms most commonly floated today—cost containment, program elimination, or alternative credentials—misunderstand structural inertia.

In 2025, West Virginia University cut 28 academic programs, including its entire foreign language department, as part of an effort to address a projected $45 million deficit. Dozens of other universities, from regional publics to small privates, have announced similar cuts. These moves balance budgets temporarily but hollow out educational missions.

Calls for universities to spend more of their endowments overlook the fact that even elite institutions already average spending rates around 4.5%, which is close to what financial managers consider sustainable. Meanwhile, 90% of U.S. colleges have endowments under $100 million, meaning they cannot rely on them for meaningful financial rescue.

Alternative credentials face similar structural limits. A 2022 SHRM survey found that while 48% of employers expressed interest in microcredentials, only 20% actually considered them in hiring decisions. Applicant tracking systems are built to screen for traditional degrees, not experimental certificates.

The Iron Law of Institutional Preservation

Sociologists describe “institutional isomorphism”—the tendency for organizations to mimic each other in ways that resist innovation. In higher education, this has created an “iron law” of institutional preservation.

When faced with crisis, universities respond with defensive maneuvers: hiring freezes, program eliminations, and lobbying for more federal support. In 2025 alone, more than 100 institutions announced cuts to majors, from classics to physics, while maintaining administrative and athletic spending.

The overriding purpose of universities is no longer the pursuit of knowledge or the education of students, but the preservation of their own bureaucratic forms.

Collapse Before Reform

The conclusion is stark but unavoidable: American higher education has passed the point of meaningful reform. Its rigid hierarchies, path dependence, and preservation instincts make internal change impossible. Demographic decline and financial pressures will likely force widespread collapse before adaptation occurs.

Hannan and Freeman’s theory predicted this outcome: organizational change is rarely the product of internal reform. Instead, it comes through environmental selection—the replacement of existing institutions by new ones better suited to survive.

The American university may not disappear entirely, but the form it has taken since the mid-20th century is unsustainable. Collapse is not only likely—it may already be underway.

---

Sources:
Hannan & Freeman (1984); BestColleges (2025); Brookings (2025); Philadelphia Fed (2024); Forbes (2025); Inside Higher Ed (2023); Academe Blog (2013); Governing (2023); AFT (2020); SHRM (2022); Al Jazeera (2025); ERIC (2020); Birmingham-Southern (2024); WVU (2025); Mount Ida (2018); Vermont State Colleges (2020).

From Philosophy to Sophistry: Why Critical Thinking Matters More Than Ever

Today, we are witnessing a troubling inversion in thought: philosophy—the love of wisdom—is increasingly being displaced by sophistry, rhetoric, and propaganda. What once served as tools for deeper understanding are now too often harnessed to manipulate opinion, defend entrenched power, and obscure reality.

The ancients recognized this danger. Socrates warned against the sophists who sold clever arguments as if they were wisdom itself, teaching young men how to win debates regardless of truth. Plato cautioned that rhetoric untethered from philosophy could become nothing more than flattery and deception. Aristotle, while systematizing rhetoric, insisted it must remain tied to logic and ethics if it was to serve the public good.

But today, these warnings are largely ignored. Rhetoric, unmoored from philosophical foundations, has become a weapon of politics, commerce, and even academia. Universities that once defended philosophy departments as central to a liberal education now shrink or eliminate them, replacing courses in logic and ethics with training in “communications,” “branding,” or “leadership.” The point is no longer truth, but persuasion—often persuasion in service of profit or political expediency.

Propaganda in Higher Education: Then and Now

The problem is not new. During the Cold War, elite universities like Harvard and Stanford became entangled in government propaganda and intelligence work. Research contracts from the Department of Defense and the CIA shaped entire fields, from area studies to behavioral psychology, with the aim of waging ideological war against communism. At Stanford, the Hoover Institution served as a pipeline between academia and Washington, producing research tailored to reinforce Cold War orthodoxy. Students were often unaware that their “objective” curricula were saturated with political agendas.

Corporate influence has also long steered academic knowledge. At the University of Chicago and Harvard Business School, neoliberal economics became dominant not because it was the most rigorous or humane, but because it was well-funded and aligned with Wall Street interests. Entire generations of business leaders were trained to see deregulation, privatization, and financialization as common sense. Meanwhile, corporations like ExxonMobil and Philip Morris poured millions into universities to shape research downplaying the harms of fossil fuels and tobacco—turning respected labs into propaganda mills under the guise of scientific inquiry.

In the for-profit sector, the University of Phoenix and Kaplan University demonstrated how higher education could be weaponized into pure marketing. Phoenix perfected the art of recruiting vulnerable students with glossy advertising campaigns while leaving many graduates with crushing debt and worthless credentials. Sophistry was not the byproduct of the system; it was the business model.

The Debt Machine as Propaganda

The rise of mass student debt in the U.S. is perhaps the clearest example of sophistry in action. For decades, policymakers, banks, and university leaders insisted that loans were an “investment” in the future. Billions of dollars in advertising, recruitment pitches, and presidential speeches told working-class families that debt was the price of opportunity, mobility, and the American Dream.

The rhetoric was powerful—but it was also false. Instead of producing universal prosperity, student loans created a new form of indenture, locking tens of millions of Americans into decades of repayment. Behind every slogan of “access” and “opportunity” was a reality of wage garnishment, ruined credit, and even Social Security checks seized from retirees.

Universities—public, private, and for-profit alike—benefited from this propaganda system. Administrators justified tuition hikes by pointing to the availability of federal loans, while politicians masked austerity and disinvestment by praising the “resilience” of students who borrowed. Sophistry covered over what philosophy might have revealed: that a system built on lifelong debt was neither just nor sustainable.

Contemporary Battles

Today, propaganda saturates every corner of higher education. Corporate partnerships with edtech firms like 2U, Coursera, and Pearson promise “innovation” while shifting costs and risks onto students and contingent faculty. DEI initiatives, while sometimes earnest, are often reduced to branding campaigns that distract from rising tuition, underfunded support services, and administrative bloat. On the other side, anti-DEI crusades, most visibly in Florida under Governor Ron DeSantis, have transformed universities like the University of Florida and New College into battlegrounds where rhetoric substitutes for governance.

Even the managerial language of “student success,” “excellence,” and “resilience” functions as propaganda. At Arizona State University, marketed as the “New American University,” branding and performance metrics often obscure deep reliance on adjunct labor and the struggles of students who leave with debt but no degree.

Why Critical Thinking Matters

In this environment, the ability to distinguish reason from sophistry is not just an academic exercise—it is essential for democratic survival. Critical thinking, logical reasoning, and ethical reflection must not be treated as luxuries reserved for philosophy majors. They are skills every student—and every citizen—requires to navigate a world saturated with propaganda.

If education has any remaining claim to a higher purpose, it is this: to cultivate minds capable of questioning, analyzing, and resisting manipulation. A society that abandons philosophy leaves itself at the mercy of those who wield rhetoric without conscience. But one that revives philosophy as a living practice of inquiry and critique can resist the slide into sophistry and reclaim some measure of truth, justice, and freedom.

The future of higher education, and perhaps democracy itself, depends on whether we choose philosophy or propaganda. The stakes could not be clearer.

---

Sources

– Christopher Simpson, Universities and Empire: Money and Politics in the Social Sciences during the Cold War (1999)
– Noam Chomsky & Edward Herman, Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media (1988)
– Derek Bok, Universities in the Marketplace: The Commercialization of Higher Education (2003)
– David Graeber, Bullshit Jobs: A Theory (2018)
– Michael Hudson, The Destiny of Civilization (2022)
– Maurizio Lazzarato, The Making of the Indebted Man (2012)
– William Deresiewicz, Excellent Sheep: The Miseducation of the American Elite (2014)
– Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed: The Troubling Rise of For-Profit Colleges in the New Economy (2017)

College Meltdown Fall 2025

The Fall 2025 semester begins under intensifying pressure in U.S. higher education. Institutions are responding to long-term changes in enrollment, public funding, demographics, technology, and labor markets. The result is a gradual disassembly of parts of the postsecondary system, with ongoing layoffs, program cuts, and institutional restructuring across both public and private sectors.

The Destruction of ED

In a stunning turn, the U.S. Department of Education has undergone a massive downsizing, slashing nearly half its workforce as part of the Trump administration’s push to dismantle the agency entirely. Education Secretary Linda McMahon framed the move as a “final mission” to restore state control and eliminate federal bureaucracy, but critics warn of chaos for vulnerable students and families who rely on federal programs. With responsibilities like student loans, Pell Grants, and civil rights enforcement now in limbo, Higher Education Institutions face a volatile landscape. The absence of centralized oversight has accelerated the fragmentation of standards, funding, and accountability—leaving colleges scrambling to navigate a patchwork of state policies and shrinking federal support.

AI Disruption: Academic Integrity and Graduate Employment 

Artificial Intelligence has rapidly reshaped higher education, introducing both powerful tools and profound challenges. On campus, AI-driven platforms like ChatGPT have become ubiquitous—92% of students now use them, and 88% admit to deploying AI for graded assignments. This surge has triggered a spike in academic misconduct, with detection systems struggling to keep pace and disproportionately flagging non-native English speakers Meanwhile, the job market for graduates is undergoing a seismic shift. Entry-level roles in tech, finance, and consulting are vanishing as companies automate routine tasks once reserved for junior staff. AI-driven layoffs have already claimed over 10,000 jobs in 2025 alone, and some experts predict that up to half of all white-collar entry-level positions could be eliminated within five years. For recent grads, this means navigating a landscape where degrees may hold less weight, and adaptability, AI fluency, and human-centered skills are more critical than ever.

Unsustainable Student Loan Debt and Federal Funding 

A recent report from the American Enterprise Institute (AEI) highlights the depth of the crisis: more than 1,000 colleges could lose access to federal student aid based on current student loan repayment rates—if existing rules were fully enforced. The findings expose systemic failures in accountability and student outcomes. Many of these colleges enroll high numbers of low-income students but leave them with unsustainable debt and limited job prospects.

Institutional Cuts and Layoffs Across the Country

Job losses and cost reductions are increasing across a range of universities.

Stanford University is cutting staff due to a projected $200 million budget shortfall.
University of Oregon has announced budget reductions and academic restructuring.
Michigan State University is implementing layoffs and reorganizing departments.
Vanderbilt University Medical Center is eliminating positions to manage healthcare operating costs.
Harvard Kennedy School is reducing programs and offering early retirement.
Brown University is freezing hiring and reviewing academic offerings.
Penn State University System is closing three Commonwealth Campuses.
Indiana public colleges are merging administrative functions and reviewing low-enrollment programs.

These actions affect not only employees and students but also local communities and regional labor markets.

Enrollment Decline and Demographic Change

Undergraduate enrollment has fallen 14.6% since Fall 2019, according to the National Student Clearinghouse Research Center. Community colleges have experienced the largest losses, with some regions seeing more than 20% declines.

The “demographic cliff” tied to declining birth rates is now reflected in enrollment trends. The Western Interstate Commission for Higher Education (WICHE) projects a 15% decline in high school graduates between 2025 and 2037 in parts of the Midwest and Northeast.

Aging Population and Shifts in Public Spending

The U.S. population is aging. By 2030, all baby boomers will be over 65. The number of Americans aged 80 and older is expected to rise from 13 million in 2020 to nearly 20 million by 2035. Public resources are being redirected toward Social Security, Medicare, and elder care, placing higher education in direct competition for limited federal and state funds.

State-Level Cuts to Higher Education Budgets

According to the State Higher Education Executive Officers Association (SHEEO), 28 states saw a decline in inflation-adjusted funding per student in FY2024.

The California State University system faces a $400 million structural deficit.
West Virginia has reduced academic programs in favor of workforce-focused realignment.
Indiana has ordered cost-cutting measures across public campuses.

These reductions are leading to fewer courses, increased workloads, and, in some cases, higher tuition.

Closures and Mergers Continue

Since 2020, more than 100 campuses have closed or merged, based on Education Dive and HEI data. In 2025, Penn State began closing three Commonwealth Campuses. A number of small private colleges—especially those with enrollments under 1,000 and limited endowments—are seeking mergers or shutting down entirely.

International Enrollment Faces Obstacles

The Institute of International Education (IIE) reports a 12% decline in new international student enrollment in Fall 2024. Contributing factors include visa delays and tighter immigration rules. Students from India, Nigeria, and Iran have experienced longer wait times and increased rejection rates. Graduate programs in STEM and business are particularly affected.

Increased Surveillance and Restrictions on Campus Speech

Data from FIRE and the Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) show increased use of surveillance tools on campuses since 2023. At least 15 public universities now use facial recognition, social media monitoring, or geofencing. State laws in Florida, Texas, and Georgia have introduced new restrictions on protests and diversity programs.

Automated Education Expands

Online Program Managers (OPMs) such as 2U, Kaplan, and Coursera are running over 500 online degree programs at more than 200 institutions, enrolling more than 1.5 million students. These programs often rely on AI-generated content and automated grading systems, with minimal instructor interaction.

Research from the Century Foundation shows that undergraduate programs operated by OPMs have completion rates below 35%, while charging tuition comparable to in-person degrees. Regulatory efforts to improve transparency and accountability remain stalled.

Oversight Gaps Remain

Accrediting agencies continue to approve closures, mergers, and new credential programs with limited transparency. Institutions are increasingly expanding short-term credential offerings and corporate partnerships with minimal external review.

Cost Shifts to Students, Faculty, and Communities

The ongoing restructuring of higher education is shifting costs and risks onto students, employees, and communities. Students face rising tuition, fewer available courses, and increased reliance on loans. Faculty and staff encounter job insecurity and heavier workloads. Outside the ivory tower, communities will lose access to educational services, cultural events, and local employment opportunities tied to campuses.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to report on the structural changes in U.S. higher education—grounded in data, public records, and the lived experiences of those directly affected.

Sources:
National Student Clearinghouse Research Center, Western Interstate Commission for Higher Education (WICHE), U.S. Census Bureau, State Higher Education Executive Officers Association (SHEEO), Institute of International Education (IIE), Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF), Government Accountability Office (GAO), The Century Foundation, Stanford University, University of Oregon, Penn State University System, Harvard Kennedy School, Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Education Dive Higher Ed Closures Tracker, American Enterprise Institute (AEI).

Comparing Adjunct Faculty Conditions: 2006 vs. 2025 — From Crisis to Collapse (Glen McGhee)

In 2006, Washington state adjunct advocate Keith Hoeller described a higher education labor system already in deep trouble—adjuncts were underpaid, lacked job security, and served as a buffer protecting tenured faculty from cuts. Nearly two decades later, those warnings seem less like early alarms and more like an obituary for the tenure system. By 2025, the crisis has metastasized.

Pay and Financial Security: Poverty Wages Become the Norm

In 2006, Hoeller reported that Washington community college adjuncts earned just 57 cents for every dollar paid to their full-time colleagues. The disparity persists—and in some ways, it has widened. Today, more than a quarter of adjuncts report earning under $26,500 a year, below the federal poverty line for a family of four.

Course pay in 2025 still averages between $2,500 and $5,000, with some positions offering as little as $1,500 per course. Melissa Olson-Petrie’s 2025 account captures the reality vividly: adjuncts can be “required in teaching five or more classes a semester, with occasional overload schedules depleting your very marrow,” yet still earn tens of thousands less annually than full-time peers.

Job Security and Contract Precarity: From Insecure to Systematically Disposable

Adjuncts in 2006 faced last-minute class cancellations and almost no job security. In 2025, the instability is institutionalized. Seventy-six percent of part-time contingent faculty are on short-term, nonrenewable contracts. Olson-Petrie notes that adjuncts can lose all scheduled work with only seven days’ notice before a semester begins.

The Scale of Adjunctification: Contingency Becomes the Default

In 1987, 47 percent of U.S. faculty held contingent appointments; by 2006, there were about half a million adjunct professors. In 2025, 68 percent of all faculty are contingent, and 49 percent are part-time. This is no longer a marginal or temporary workforce—it is the dominant teaching corps in American higher education.

Union Representation: Gains, Losses, and Legislative Blows

Unionization of academic workers has expanded since 2006, with graduate student organizing seeing a 133 percent increase between 2012 and 2024. Yet the structural imbalance Hoeller warned of remains: full-time faculty often dominate mixed bargaining units, leaving adjunct priorities underrepresented.

The 2025 landscape also includes outright reversals. In Florida, where adjunct organizing had surged, all eight adjunct faculty unions—representing more than 8,000 professors—were dissolved in 2024 under state law requiring 60 percent dues-paying membership.

Academic Freedom: Now an Explicit Target

In both 2006 and 2025, adjuncts lacked tenure protections. But in the current political climate, academic freedom is under direct attack. The Foundation for Individual Rights in Education warns that when three out of four professors lack tenure, political retaliation becomes easier. Recent non-reappointments at CUNY of adjuncts advocating for Palestinian rights show how swiftly dissenting voices can be silenced.

Federal and Institutional Pressures: The Trump Freeze and Funding Cuts

New forces compound old problems. Under the Trump administration, federal funding cuts, research grant threats, and hiring freezes have hit even the wealthiest universities. Institutions from Harvard to state schools are eliminating positions, further constricting opportunities for full-time, stable faculty roles.

Structural Deterioration: A Fully Entrenched Two-Tier System

Hoeller’s 2006 call for adjuncts to form independent bargaining units largely went unheeded. Full-time faculty continue to benefit from adjunct labor as a flexible shield against cuts, while adjuncts themselves are treated—per Olson-Petrie—as “little more than a high-quality paper towel within the academy.”

From Labor Problem to Institutional Crisis

Nearly every issue identified in 2006 has worsened. Today’s 68 percent contingent faculty rate represents not just a failure to protect academic labor but a transformation of the profession itself. The adjunct of 2025 faces economic exploitation, permanent precarity, and political vulnerability in an environment where structural reform has stalled, and in many cases, reversed.

Without systemic change—separately empowered unions, funding reinvestment, and real job security—the profession risks losing its foundation: the ability of educators to teach freely, securely, and sustainably.

Sources: Inside Higher Ed, AAUP, NEA, SEIU Faculty Forward, FIRE, ACE, Higher Ed Dive, U.S. News, AFT.

UF’s Climate Commitment Cancelled—Student Journalists Pick Up the Slack

At the Higher Education Inquirer, we’ve long tracked the creeping politicization, corporatization, and hollowing-out of American higher education. But we also know that some of the most important journalism in this space isn’t coming from cable news or legacy media—it’s being done by student reporters working late nights in underfunded college newsrooms.

That’s why we’re launching a new initiative: to amplify and highlight outstanding student journalism that exposes institutional failures, lifts up marginalized voices, and brings transparency to power.

We begin by spotlighting vital reporting from The Independent Florida Alligator, the student-run newspaper at the University of Florida.

In an August 7th article, "UF shuts down Office of Sustainability," student journalists revealed that UF has abruptly dismantled its Office of Sustainability. The decision was made quietly, with no input from students or faculty. The office had led the university’s efforts on climate action, environmental education, waste reduction, and green infrastructure.

The story goes far beyond campus housekeeping—it reflects a larger pattern of political interference under Florida Governor Ron DeSantis. Programs tied to environmentalism, racial equity, and academic freedom have come under fire as part of a sweeping campaign to reshape public education into a vehicle for conservative ideology.

Staff from the sustainability office have reportedly been reassigned to facilities management, signaling a shift in priorities from systemic environmental change to mere operational efficiency. The message is clear: climate action is no longer a public commitment, but a liability.

This is happening in a state already suffering the consequences of climate change—rising sea levels, stronger hurricanes, dangerous heat waves. Universities, especially public ones, should be at the forefront of scientific and civic leadership. Instead, they’re retreating. And student journalists are left to do the work that administrators won’t.

HEI’s New Commitment to Student Journalism

The Higher Education Inquirer is proud to support and amplify the work of student journalists who are holding institutions accountable. With shrinking professional newsrooms and growing institutional secrecy, student-run papers remain a critical watchdog in American higher education.

We encourage our readers to follow, share, and support publications like The Alligator. Their work is a public service—and they’re doing it with fewer resources and greater risks than many professionals.

We’ll be featuring more stories like this in the months ahead. If you’re a student journalist breaking news, blowing whistles, or investigating injustice in higher education, we want to hear from you.

Source:

• The Independent Florida Alligator, August 7, 2025: “UF shuts down Office of Sustainability”

From the New Deal to Narcissism: How Individualism, Libertarianism, and Trumpism Gutted the Public University

The New Deal rested on a foundational belief: that the federal government could be a force for collective uplift. In the shadow of economic collapse and mass unemployment, the Roosevelt administration mobilized state resources to create jobs, reform capitalism, and restore public confidence. Public education—including the university—was part of that vision.

The Higher Education Act of 1965, influenced by the New Deal ethos, vastly expanded federal support for public colleges and student aid. By the early 1970s, nearly 75 percent of college students attended public institutions, with tuition at flagship universities often below $1,000 per year (roughly $7,000 in today’s dollars). Pell Grants could cover most, if not all, of a low-income student’s tuition, room, and board. The GI Bill had already lifted millions into the middle class. State legislatures invested heavily in public universities, seeing them as engines of democratic growth and regional development.

But this consensus began to unravel with the rise of neoliberalism and libertarian ideology in the 1970s and 1980s. Thinkers like Milton Friedman and organizations like the Cato Institute and Heritage Foundation argued that the state was inherently inefficient, that markets should govern most aspects of life, and that individuals—not governments—were responsible for their outcomes. Reagan declared that “government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem,” and higher education funding soon became a target.

State appropriations for public colleges as a share of university revenue declined dramatically. In 1980, public funding made up about 75 percent of the operating costs of state universities. By 2020, it had fallen below 25 percent. Students and their families made up the difference, mostly through debt. Between 1995 and 2023, average tuition at public four-year colleges tripled, even after adjusting for inflation. Total student loan debt exploded, surpassing $1.7 trillion by 2024, burdening more than 45 million Americans. The average debt per borrower was more than $38,000.

This wasn’t merely an economic shift—it was an ideological one. Higher education was no longer understood as a public good but as a private investment. Students were told to “shop” for degrees like they would consumer goods, choosing programs based not on curiosity or civic purpose but on return on investment. The university was transformed from a site of public inquiry to a marketplace. Faculty governance was weakened. Shared governance gave way to corporate-style management. Instruction was outsourced to contingent faculty, 70 percent of whom now teach off the tenure track. Adjunct professors, often paid less than $3,500 per course, frequently live below the poverty line and qualify for public assistance.

Trumpism emerged from this late-capitalist malaise but redirected its anger. Instead of questioning the privatization of education, it turned public resentment against institutions of learning themselves. Universities were portrayed as hostile, elitist, and corrupt—agents of indoctrination rather than enlightenment. The Trump administration’s policies followed this rhetoric. Betsy DeVos, a billionaire with no experience in public education, oversaw aggressive deregulation of for-profit colleges, attempted to eliminate gainful employment rules, and delayed or blocked borrower defense claims from defrauded students.

Even after Trump left office, his political movement sustained an aggressive campaign against public education. Under Project 2025, a policy blueprint promoted by the Heritage Foundation and embraced by Trump’s allies, universities are targeted for ideological control. The plan calls for defunding departments deemed “woke,” ending diversity and inclusion programs, and purging federal agencies—including the Department of Education—of those who challenge the political orthodoxy.

In Florida, under Governor Ron DeSantis, this agenda was made real. The New College of Florida, once a respected liberal arts institution, was taken over by political appointees who dismantled its academic programs, removed professors, and imposed a conservative curriculum. Across red states, tenure is under attack, academic freedom is shrinking, and LGBTQ+ students and faculty are being driven out or silenced.

The ideology driving this assault is not consistent libertarianism—it’s an incoherent blend of market fundamentalism, Christian nationalism, and authoritarian populism. It pretends to value freedom but enforces conformity. It invokes personal responsibility while shielding the powerful from consequence. It lauds meritocracy even as it strips away the conditions for anyone outside the elite to succeed.

Underlying all of this is a distorted form of individualism. The student is no longer part of a learning community—they are a solitary debtor. Faculty are no longer public servants—they are expendable contractors. The public university is no longer a site of shared knowledge or democratic imagination—it is a hollowed-out brand, increasingly indistinguishable from the for-profit sector.

Even the language of crisis has lost its power. We no longer speak of austerity or retrenchment—we have normalized decline. College closures are expected. Student defaults are routine. A generation of graduates has never known a university that wasn’t precarious, transactional, and shaped by fear.

To move forward, we must confront not just the political project of Trumpism but the longer neoliberal arc that made it possible. That means rejecting the lie that education is only valuable when it is profitable. It means refusing the narrative that students in debt deserve their suffering. And it means restoring the idea that knowledge—and the institutions that sustain it—are worth defending not just for individuals, but for the society we want to live in.

The public university was never perfect, but it was once animated by a different moral vision. Reclaiming that vision is not nostalgic—it is necessary. If we fail, we consign ourselves to a future of narcissistic consumerism, epistemic decay, and civic disintegration.

---

Sources and Data

• U.S. Department of Education, National Center for Education Statistics (NCES): College Tuition Trends

• Congressional Budget Office (CBO): Student Loan Debt Projections, 2024

• The Century Foundation: “The State of Adjunct Faculty,” 2022

• National Association of College and University Business Officers (NACUBO): “State Funding vs. Tuition Revenue, 1980–2020”

• Project on Predatory Student Lending: Legal challenges to Trump-era ED policies

• Heritage Foundation, “Mandate for Leadership: Project 2025”

• Florida Department of Education and New College public records, 2023–2024

• Inside Higher Ed, “Contingent Faculty and the Collapse of Tenure,” March 2024

• The New Deal and Higher Education, John R. Thelin, A History of American Higher Education

• Barkan, Joanne. Merchants of Debt: How the Student Loan Industry Became a Power Broker