Liberty University Online: Master’s Degree Debt Factory

Liberty University, one of the largest Christian universities in the United States, has built an educational empire by promoting conservative values and offering flexible online degree programs to hundreds of thousands of students. But behind the pious branding and patriotic marketing lies a troubling pattern: Liberty University Online has become a master’s degree debt factory, churning out credentials of questionable value while generating billions in student loan debt.

From Moral Majority to Mass Marketing

Founded in 1971 by televangelist Jerry Falwell Sr., Liberty University was created to train “Champions for Christ.” In the 2000s, the school found new life through online education, transforming from a small evangelical college into a mega-university with nearly 95,000 online students, the vast majority of them enrolled in nontraditional and graduate programs.

By leveraging aggressive digital marketing, religious appeals, and promises of career advancement, Liberty has positioned itself as a go-to destination for working adults and military veterans seeking master's degrees. But this rapid expansion has not come without costs — especially for the students who enroll.

A For-Profit Model in Nonprofit Clothing

Though technically a nonprofit, Liberty University operates with many of the same profit-driven incentives as for-profit colleges. Its online programs generate massive revenues — an estimated $1 billion annually — thanks in large part to federal student aid programs. Students are encouraged to take on loans to pay for master’s degrees in education, counseling, business, and theology, among other fields. Many of these programs are offered in accelerated formats that cater to working adults but often lack the rigor, support, or job placement outcomes associated with traditional graduate schools.

Federal data shows that many Liberty students, especially graduate students, take on substantial debt. According to the U.S. Department of Education’s College Scorecard, the median graduate student debt at Liberty can range from $40,000 to more than $70,000, depending on the program. Meanwhile, the return on investment is often dubious, with low median earnings and high rates of student loan forbearance or default.

Exploiting Faith and Patriotism

Liberty’s marketing strategy is finely tuned to appeal to Christian conservatives, homeschoolers, veterans, and working parents. By framing education as a moral and patriotic duty, Liberty convinces students that enrolling in an online master’s program is both a personal and spiritual investment. Testimonials of “calling” and “purpose” are common, but the financial realities can be harsh.

Many students report feeling misled by promises of job readiness or licensure, especially in education and counseling fields, where state licensing requirements can differ dramatically from what Liberty prepares students for. Others cite inadequate academic support and difficulties transferring credits.

 The university spends heavily on recruitment and retention, often at the expense of student services and academic quality.

Lack of Oversight and Accountability

Liberty University benefits from minimal federal scrutiny compared to for-profit schools, largely because of its nonprofit status and political connections. The institution maintains close ties to conservative lawmakers and was a vocal supporter of the Trump administration, which rolled back regulations on higher education accountability.

Despite a series of internal scandals — including financial mismanagement, sexual misconduct cover-ups, and leadership instability following the resignation of Jerry Falwell Jr. — Liberty has continued to expand its online presence. Its graduate programs, particularly in education and counseling, remain cash cows that draw in federal loan dollars with few checks on student outcomes.

A Cautionary Tale in Christian Capitalism

The story of Liberty University Online is not just about one school. It reflects a broader trend in American higher education: the merging of religion, capitalism, and credential inflation. As more employers demand advanced degrees for mid-level jobs, and as traditional institutions struggle to adapt, schools like Liberty have seized the opportunity to market hope — even if it comes at a high cost.

For students of faith seeking upward mobility, Liberty promises a path to both spiritual and professional fulfillment. But for many, the result is a diploma accompanied by tens of thousands in debt and limited economic return. The moral reckoning may not be just for Liberty University, but for the policymakers and accreditors who continue to enable this lucrative cycle of debt and disillusionment.

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The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to investigate Liberty University Online and similar institutions as part of our ongoing series on higher education debt, inequality, and regulatory failure.

UATX and the Manhattan Statement: A Reactionary Vision Masquerading as Reform

The July 14 release of the Manhattan Statement on Higher Education, authored by conservative activist Christopher Rufo and endorsed by a network of public intellectuals including Jordan Peterson and Victor Davis Hanson, signals a renewed attempt to politicize and reengineer U.S. higher education from the top down. The University of Austin (UATX), founded in 2021 as a counter to so-called "woke" universities, quickly aligned itself with the statement’s aims. In his July 17 response, UATX President Carlos Carvalho embraced Rufo’s framing, declaring that his institution was created to reverse what he and others call a crisis of truth and national identity in American academia.

But as previously noted by the Higher Education Inquirer in the article “Socrates in Space: University of Austin and the Art of Selling Platitudes to the Powerful” (July 2024), UATX is not a revolutionary institution. It is a repackaged version of elite academia, complete with wealthy donors, highly connected board members, and a PR strategy rooted in grievance politics. The school’s language of “freedom,” “truth,” and “rigor” masks a political project designed to shape a new generation of conservative elites, while marginalizing alternative perspectives and undermining the pluralism that genuine education requires.

The Manhattan Statement claims that American universities have become engines of ideological tyranny, no longer serving the public good. It calls on the President of the United States to draft a “new contract” that would tie federal funding and accreditation to ideological conformity, enforced through policy tools like grants, loans, and eligibility restrictions. In short, it advocates for government control over academic speech and governance—precisely the kind of top-down coercion that critics of higher education claim to oppose.

President Carvalho responded with a full-throated endorsement of this approach, asserting that universities today lack rigor and suppress dissent, and that UATX alone fosters true academic freedom and civic responsibility. He describes a meritocratic admissions process based on quantitative performance metrics, a rigorous curriculum rooted in “civilizational survival,” and a mission to produce citizens capable of preserving “constitutional liberty and national prosperity.”

In practice, UATX is a selectively curated intellectual space, one that draws heavily on a Western classical canon and excludes broader traditions of inquiry. The “quantitative metrics” for admissions echo longstanding tools of exclusion used by elite schools, masking inequality behind a rhetoric of objectivity. The institution is unaccredited, but wrapped in the trappings of prestige: slick marketing, elite endorsements, and curated media profiles. It critiques the influence of DEI offices while quietly building its own ideological infrastructure, funded by libertarian and neoconservative donors.

UATX claims to break from the existing higher education establishment, but in many ways it reflects its worst tendencies: elite gatekeeping, narrow curriculum design, and a penchant for cultivating future power brokers under the guise of critical thought. Its alignment with figures like Rufo and institutions like the Manhattan Institute reveals that its primary mission is not educational transformation, but political reprogramming.

The true crises in higher education—mounting student debt, the precarity of adjunct labor, bloated administration, and the deepening divide between elite and non-elite institutions—are ignored in both the Manhattan Statement and UATX’s institutional messaging. Instead, culture war narratives dominate the agenda. Rather than addressing the exploitative political economy of higher education, Rufo and Carvalho advance a project that serves to consolidate influence among ideologically aligned elites, while framing dissent and diversity as existential threats to the republic.

UATX is not a path forward for American higher education. It is a reflection of its decay—an institution more interested in slogans and spectacle than in solving the structural issues that actually imperil the future of learning and equity in the United States.

Sources:

Christopher Rufo, Manhattan Statement on Higher Education, July 14, 2025
Carlos Carvalho, UATX Response to the Manhattan Statement, July 17, 2025
University of Austin promotional materials and public statements, www.uaustin.org
Higher Education Inquirer, Socrates in Space: University of Austin and the Art of Selling Platitudes to the Powerful, July 2024
New York Times, The University That War on “Wokeness” Built, December 2021
Inside Higher Ed, UATX and the Spectacle of Merit, February 2024
Chronicle of Higher Education, Is UATX a University or a Political Project?, January 2023

Sexual Criminals in US Higher Education: A Brief History

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cognitive Dissonance in Conservative Circles: Student Loans, Reproductive Control, and Elite Education

In the fractured landscape of American politics, few ideological camps require as much mental compartmentalization as the contemporary conservative movement—particularly on issues such as student loan forgiveness, reproductive control, and elite education. These contradictions are not incidental; they are foundational to a worldview that champions “freedom” and “responsibility” while selectively applying both.

Student Loan Forgiveness: Moral Hazard for the Working Class?

Conservatives have long framed student loan forgiveness as a dangerous “bailout” for the irresponsible. When the Biden administration announced broad relief for borrowers in 2022, Republican leaders rushed to block the effort, culminating in the Supreme Court’s rejection of the plan in Biden v. Nebraska (2023) [1]. Senator Mitch McConnell called the proposal “socialism,” and GOP-aligned media accused the administration of rewarding “woke” degrees in gender studies and art history.

Yet this outrage over debt relief was largely absent when it came to Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) loan forgiveness. According to data from ProPublica and the U.S. Small Business Administration, many Republican members of Congress, including Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene and Rep. Vern Buchanan, had hundreds of thousands—sometimes millions—of dollars in business loans forgiven under the program [2]. Donald Trump’s companies received over $2 million in PPP loans, much of it forgiven [3].

Meanwhile, millions of working- and middle-class borrowers remain trapped in debt from degrees that were oversold as gateways to stable careers. Many were students at for-profit institutions that have since faced lawsuits or federal scrutiny for misleading advertising and inflated job placement claims [4].

Reproductive Control: The Politics of "Limited" Government

One of the most glaring contradictions in conservative rhetoric is the demand for limited government—except when it comes to controlling women’s bodies. Since the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization (2022), Republican-led states have rushed to enact abortion bans. As of mid-2025, 14 states have near-total bans in effect, many with no exceptions for rape or incest [5].

While conservatives argue for “parental rights” in education and protest vaccine mandates as government overreach, they have no issue allowing the state to force pregnancy and childbirth. The very people championing “freedom” from mask mandates and climate regulations are often the first to demand criminal penalties for doctors who perform abortions.

This isn’t just hypocrisy—it reflects a selective application of liberty: economic freedom for corporations, religious freedom for evangelicals, but no bodily autonomy for pregnant women, particularly those who are poor or marginalized.

Elite Education: The Ivy League as Both Enemy and Badge of Honor

Conservative disdain for elite universities is both cultural and performative. Schools like Harvard, Yale, and Stanford are routinely criticized as leftist indoctrination centers. Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, for instance, has targeted public university diversity programs and pushed for “anti-woke” education reforms [6].

And yet, the conservative establishment is deeply enmeshed in elite education. Four of the six conservative Supreme Court justices were educated at Harvard or Yale. The Federalist Society, a conservative legal powerhouse, thrives at these institutions. DeSantis himself holds degrees from Yale and Harvard Law.

Wealthy conservative families still pull strings to get their children into Ivy League schools, often through donations or legacy admissions. Meanwhile, conservative media outlets mock first-generation students or those from historically marginalized communities for seeking higher education in the first place. As working-class and rural conservatives are dissuaded from attending college, elite education becomes more exclusive—while still being used to confer legitimacy on conservative power brokers.

The Real Ideological Glue

These contradictions require cognitive dissonance, but they are sustained by a shared grievance narrative: that “real Americans” are being left behind by coastal elites, cultural change, and demographic shifts. In this framework, debt relief for a truck driver is socialism, but forgiveness for a car dealership owner is economic stimulus. Academic freedom is sacred for religious conservatives, but dangerous when exercised by liberal professors. Government intrusion is tyranny—unless it enforces traditional gender roles.

What binds these inconsistencies together is not logic but power. The goal is not to apply principles consistently, but to protect a hierarchy in which wealth, whiteness, patriarchy, and Christian nationalism remain dominant.

Until conservatives confront these contradictions—or acknowledge that their ideology serves different masters depending on context—they will continue to promote a politics of resentment that undermines both higher education and democracy itself.

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Sources:

1. Supreme Court of the United States. Biden v. Nebraska, 600 U.S. ___ (2023). https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/22pdf/22-506_n6io.pdf

2. ProPublica. “Tracking PPP Loans.” https://projects.propublica.org/coronavirus/bailouts/

3. Forbes. “Trump Organization and PPP Loans: Over $2 Million Forgiven.” July 2021. https://www.forbes.com/sites/zacheverson/2021/07/06/trump-organizations-ppp-loans-over-2-million-forgiven

4. U.S. Department of Education. “Borrower Defense to Repayment.” https://studentaid.gov/borrower-defense/

5. Guttmacher Institute. “State Bans on Abortion Throughout Pregnancy.” Updated May 2025. https://www.guttmacher.org/state-policy/explore/state-policies-later-abortions

6. The Chronicle of Higher Education. “DeSantis Signs Bills Overhauling Florida Higher Ed.” May 2023. https://www.chronicle.com/article/desantis-signs-bills-overhauling-florida-higher-ed

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The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to investigate the ideological contradictions, systemic inequities, and political influence that define U.S. higher education—and its role in American life.

Faith vs. Geology: Pangaea and the Great Deluge Theory at Liberty University

In the early 20th century, German scientist Alfred Wegener introduced the idea of continental drift, proposing that Earth's continents were once joined in a massive supercontinent called Pangaea. Though initially dismissed, his theory gained traction in the 1960s with the emergence of plate tectonics—a unifying model that explains how Earth's outer shell is divided into moving plates. This theory, now a cornerstone of modern geology, posits that Pangaea began to break apart roughly 230 million years ago, eventually forming the continents we recognize today. The overwhelming evidence for this process includes matching fossils on different continents, corresponding rock formations, and patterns in ancient species distribution. Radiometric dating techniques support the conclusion that Earth is about 4.54 billion years old, a timescale that allows for the slow, natural processes responsible for shaping the planet.

In stark contrast, Liberty University's Center for Creation Studies offers an alternative interpretation of Earth’s history rooted in a literal reading of the Bible. Situated in the Rawlings School of Divinity’s Freedom Tower—the tallest building in Lynchburg, Virginia—the Center teaches students to understand science through the lens of Genesis. Its Great Deluge Theory, based on the biblical account of Noah's Flood, rejects the mainstream scientific consensus. Instead of accepting that Earth’s continents drifted apart over hundreds of millions of years, the Center asserts that many geological features, including fossil layers and sedimentary rock strata, were formed rapidly during a single global flood event just a few thousand years ago. Young Earth creationism, which underpins the curriculum, maintains that the planet is no older than 10,000 years, and that natural history can be fully explained through divine intervention.

The divergence between these views is more than a matter of interpretation—it reflects fundamentally different epistemologies. Plate tectonics is grounded in empirical research, the scientific method, and peer review. It invites scrutiny, thrives on testable hypotheses, and evolves in response to new evidence. In contrast, Liberty’s model begins with a predetermined conclusion: the Bible is historically and scientifically accurate in every detail. Evidence is selectively interpreted to fit this framework, and contradictory data—no matter how extensive—is either reinterpreted or dismissed. This approach aligns more closely with apologetics than with science.

While Liberty University positions its creationist program as a means to equip students to "contend for their faith," critics argue that it misrepresents scientific knowledge and undermines science education. By framing the Great Deluge as a viable scientific alternative to plate tectonics, the institution promotes a parallel academic universe in which faith-based doctrines masquerade as empirical conclusions. The implications go beyond the classroom. As Liberty-trained educators and policymakers enter the workforce, the divide between evidence-based science and theological worldviews has the potential to further erode public understanding of geology, biology, and climate science.

The tension between these two narratives—one driven by data and theory, the other by scripture and conviction—mirrors broader cultural and political divides in the United States. In this climate, Liberty University’s Great Deluge Theory stands not merely as a fringe belief but as part of an organized ideological project. It seeks to challenge the authority of secular science and replace it with a creationist worldview, reinforced by institutional power, strategic philanthropy, and media amplification through outlets like Fox News and Turning Point USA.

Pangaea remains a foundational concept in understanding Earth's deep past—a testament to scientific inquiry and intellectual perseverance. The Great Deluge Theory, by contrast, functions more as a religious counter-narrative, one that reveals the growing influence of Christian nationalism within certain sectors of U.S. higher education. At Liberty University, students are taught not only to question modern geology but to replace it with a model of the Earth shaped by divine catastrophe. In doing so, the institution asserts a theological vision of reality that stands in direct opposition to the scientific consensus.

This conflict raises urgent questions about the role of ideology in higher education and the future of scientific literacy in a society increasingly divided along epistemological lines.

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Sources:

National Center for Science Education. “The Creationist Assault on Geology.” NCSE Reports.
https://ncse.ngo/creationist-assault-geology

U.S. Geological Survey (USGS). “Geologic Time.”
https://www.usgs.gov/programs/earthquake-hazards/geologic-time

Wegener, Alfred. The Origin of Continents and Oceans. Translated edition, Dover Publications, 1966.

Liberty University. “Center for Creation Studies.”
https://www.liberty.edu/academics/creationstudies/

Liberty University Rawlings School of Divinity. “Freedom Tower Overview.”
https://www.liberty.edu/divinity/freedom-tower/

Numbers, Ronald L. The Creationists: From Scientific Creationism to Intelligent Design. Harvard University Press, 2006.

Scott, Eugenie C. Evolution vs. Creationism: An Introduction. University of California Press, 2009.

Radiometric Dating and the Age of the Earth. TalkOrigins Archive.
http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/dating.html

Lisle, Jason. The Ultimate Proof of Creation. Master Books, 2009. (Representative of Liberty-style apologetics)

“Wypipo” and Higher Education: Unpacking Race, Privilege, and Power in U.S. Colleges

What Does “Wypipo” Mean?

“Wypipo” mimics the pronunciation of “white people” but carries critical connotations. It is often used to call out behaviors associated with whiteness, including racial entitlement, cultural tone-deafness, and systemic blindness to inequities. The term serves as both a cultural critique and an assertion of resistance against normalized white dominance.

Higher Education and “Wypipo”: The Landscape

U.S. colleges and universities remain sites where whiteness shapes admissions, curriculum, governance, and culture. Predominantly white institutions (PWIs) continue to reinforce racial disparities despite diversity initiatives (Espenshade & Radford, 2009; Alon, 2015). Curricula center Eurocentric perspectives, while faculty and administrative leadership remain disproportionately white (Turner, González, & Wong, 2011).

Charlie Kirk, Turning Point USA, and Liberty University: Conservative “Wypipo” Powerhouses

Among the most prominent embodiments of “Wypipo” influence in higher education are conservative activist Charlie Kirk and his organization, Turning Point USA (TPUSA). Founded in 2012, TPUSA has become a major force in conservative campus organizing, advancing a right-wing political agenda centered on opposition to what it terms “woke” ideology and critical race theory.

Charlie Kirk’s activism includes extensive social media campaigns, campus chapters, and large-scale conferences that mobilize predominantly white student bases. His rhetoric often frames racial justice efforts as threats to free speech and traditional values, casting “wokeness” as a form of indoctrination (Cowan, 2020). Kirk’s influence extends into shaping public policy and funding flows, leveraging connections with major donors and political figures.

Liberty University, founded by evangelical leader Jerry Falwell Sr., is a key institutional partner in this conservative higher education ecosystem. Liberty positions itself as an alternative to mainstream universities, promoting Christian conservative values with significant political and financial resources. Its student body and leadership largely reflect a white evangelical demographic that aligns with Kirk’s messaging. Together, TPUSA and Liberty University represent a coordinated cultural and political push that sustains whiteness as a dominant force in higher education debates (Harriot, 2021).

Michael Harriot’s Insights on “Wypipo” and Power

Journalist and cultural critic Michael Harriot has explored how whiteness functions not only as racial identity but as a system of social control. In his work, Harriot emphasizes the performative and often self-interested nature of white activism and the ways white power adapts to preserve itself, including in educational settings (Harriot, 2017).

Harriot’s analyses illuminate how figures like Kirk and institutions like Liberty University deploy cultural narratives that obscure systemic racism while mobilizing racial resentment. This dynamic reinforces “Wypipo” dominance under the guise of protecting free expression or traditional values, often at the expense of marginalized students and faculty.

How “Wypipo” Reveals Structural Inequities

The use of “Wypipo” challenges higher education stakeholders to recognize whiteness as an active, often unmarked, structure of privilege. Critical race theory frames whiteness as a form of property and power that shapes institutional policies, resource distribution, and cultural norms (Harris, 1993; Lipsitz, 1998).

This perspective calls on predominantly white faculty, administrators, and students to examine their roles in perpetuating inequities, even unconsciously (DiAngelo, 2018). It also critiques diversity efforts that focus on surface inclusion without addressing deeper power imbalances (Ahmed, 2012).

Controversy and Necessity of the Term

While “Wypipo” can be provocative and controversial, it forces a confrontation with realities often softened or ignored in polite discourse. Scholars argue that such language is essential for disrupting entrenched whiteness and fostering honest conversations about race and power (Delgado & Stefancic, 2017).

Toward Equity Beyond “Wypipo”

True progress requires dismantling systemic racism in admissions, curriculum, governance, and campus climate. This means elevating marginalized voices, redistributing power, and holding institutions accountable (Gasman, Kim, & Nguyen, 2011; Harper, 2012). Programs rooted in critical race pedagogy and institutional change show promise for fostering inclusive educational spaces (Ladson-Billings, 1995; Solórzano & Yosso, 2002).

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References

• Ahmed, S. (2012). On Being Included: Racism and Diversity in Institutional Life. Duke University Press.

• Alon, S. (2015). Race, gender, and the stratification of college science majors. Sociology of Education, 88(3), 259–280.

• Bowen, W. G., & Bok, D. (1998). The Shape of the River: Long-Term Consequences of Considering Race in College and University Admissions. Princeton University Press.

• Cowan, T. (2020). The culture war on campus: Turning Point USA and conservative student activism. Journal of Higher Education Politics and Policy, 22(1), 45–62.

• Delgado, R., & Stefancic, J. (2017). Critical Race Theory: An Introduction (3rd ed.). NYU Press.

• DiAngelo, R. (2018). White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism. Beacon Press.

• Espenshade, T. J., & Radford, A. W. (2009). No Longer Separate, Not Yet Equal: Race and Class in Elite College Admission and Campus Life. Princeton University Press.

• Gasman, M., Kim, J., & Nguyen, T.-H. (2011). Engaging faculty of color in the academy: Lessons from multiple perspectives. The Journal of Higher Education, 82(2), 152–182.

• Harper, S. R. (2012). Race without racism: How higher education researchers minimize racist institutional norms. The Review of Higher Education, 36(1), 9–29.

• Harriot, M. (2017). The Case for Reparations—and Why White America’s Resistance Is About Power. The Root.

• Harris, C. I. (1993). Whiteness as property. Harvard Law Review, 106(8), 1707–1791.

• hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. Routledge.

• Ladson-Billings, G. (1995). Toward a theory of culturally relevant pedagogy. American Educational Research Journal, 32(3), 465–491.

• Leonardo, Z. (2004). The Color of Supremacy: Beyond the Discourse of 'White Privilege'. Educational Philosophy and Theory, 36(2), 137–152.

• Lipsitz, G. (1998). The Possessive Investment in Whiteness: How White People Profit from Identity Politics. Temple University Press.

• Sander, R. (2012). Mismatch: How Affirmative Action Hurts Students It’s Intended to Help, and Why Universities Won’t Admit It. Basic Books.

• Smith, W. A., Allen, W. R., & Danley, L. L. (2007). “Assume the position…you fit the description”: Psychosocial experiences and racial battle fatigue among African American male college students. American Behavioral Scientist, 51(4), 551–578.

• Solórzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2002). Critical race methodology: Counter-storytelling as an analytical framework for education research. Qualitative Inquiry, 8(1), 23–44.

• Sue, D. W., Capodilupo, C. M., Torino, G. C., Bucceri, J. M., Holder, A. M. B., Nadal, K. L., & Esquilin, M. (2007). Racial microaggressions in everyday life: Implications for clinical practice. American Psychologist, 62(4), 271–286.

• Turner, C. S. V., González, J. C., & Wong, K. (2011). Faculty women of color: The critical nexus of race and gender. Journal of Diversity in Higher Education, 4(4), 199–211.

Google, Amazon Web Services, and the Robocollege Gold Rush

The rise of robocolleges—massive, data-driven online universities like Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU), Liberty University Online, and the University of Phoenix—has not only reshaped the American higher education landscape but also become a lucrative revenue stream for Big Tech giants like Google and Amazon Web Services (AWS). These corporations, often thought of in the context of search engines or online retail, are quietly cashing in on the transformation of higher education into a sprawling digital enterprise.

Google profits primarily through its dominant advertising platform. Robocolleges spend tens of millions of dollars annually on Google Ads, targeting prospective students through highly refined search engine marketing. When a person types “online college” or “fastest bachelor’s degree,” Google’s algorithms serve up ads from SNHU, Liberty, University of Phoenix, and similar institutions, often above organic search results. These schools bid aggressively on search terms, particularly those that resonate with working adults, single parents, and veterans—populations that are more vulnerable to misleading advertising and frequently take on large student loans with low completion rates. A 2018 New York Times report revealed that the University of Phoenix spent $27 million on Google ads in a single year. SNHU and Liberty have since increased their digital marketing budgets dramatically, much of it funneled into the Google ecosystem.

But Google’s relationship with robocolleges goes far beyond advertising. Through its YouTube platform, also part of Alphabet Inc., the company monetizes education-related content and ads aimed at vulnerable populations. Whether viewers are watching videos about job interviews or financial survival, they’re often served high-pressure ads from online universities offering "flexible" degrees with "no SAT required." These targeted promotions generate both direct revenue and valuable behavioral data, which is used to optimize future advertising and extract more profit from the education market.

Amazon Web Services (AWS), the dominant player in cloud computing, profits from robocolleges in a different but equally impactful way. The University of Phoenix, for instance, migrated its entire infrastructure to AWS, entrusting Amazon with the storage and management of its student data, financial systems, and learning platforms. This move was framed as a way to increase efficiency and reduce costs, but it also locked a major for-profit university into the AWS ecosystem, with recurring fees that scale with student enrollment and data usage. Liberty University and other online-heavy institutions have also entered cloud partnerships with AWS and its competitors, making Amazon a key stakeholder in the delivery and surveillance of digital education.

The integration of Big Tech with robocolleges isn't just about services—it's about power. These tech platforms shape who gets seen and who remains invisible. Google's search and ad algorithms essentially control the public-facing narrative of higher education, prioritizing those who pay the most, not those who offer the best outcomes. Meanwhile, Amazon’s infrastructure ensures that these institutions can operate at scale with minimal human oversight, using cloud tools to automate enrollment, course delivery, and even student monitoring.

This alliance between Big Tech and robocolleges has significant implications for students, many of whom take on large debts in pursuit of degrees that may have limited labor market value. The same students who are recruited through Google ads often end up attending classes hosted on AWS servers, their tuition dollars indirectly supporting some of the richest corporations on the planet. As regulators begin to scrutinize student outcomes and loan defaults, the role of Google and Amazon in propping up this system remains largely invisible—and unaccountable.

What we are witnessing is not just the digitization of higher education, but its full-scale commercialization, driven by two of the most powerful technology firms in the world. In this new regime, education becomes a pipeline for data extraction, ad revenue, and cloud profits—where the student is no longer the customer, but the product.

Sources:
The New York Times, “How Google Took Over the Classroom” (2017)
The Chronicle of Higher Education, “Online Education’s Marketing Machine” (2020)
The Markup, “Google Is Earning Big From Predatory For-Profit Colleges” (2020)
University of Phoenix Newsroom, “University of Phoenix Moves to AWS” (2019)
SNHU Financial Statements (2020-2023)
Liberty University Marketing Disclosures (Various)
Alphabet Inc. and Amazon.com Inc. Annual Reports (2023-2024)

Robocolleges vs. Public Universities: Debt, Dropouts, and a Fraying Future

As the landscape of American higher education continues to shift, the divide between public universities and tech-heavy “robocolleges” has grown increasingly apparent. Once promoted as affordable and innovative, robocolleges are now under scrutiny for fostering high student debt and low graduation rates.

These institutions prioritize automation, outsourcing, and marketing over traditional teaching models, often sidelining academic integrity in favor of scalability.

Comparing Outcomes: Public Universities vs. Robocolleges

Feature	Public Universities	Robocolleges (e.g., for-profit/online-heavy)
Average Student Debt	~$18,350 at graduation	~$29,000 or higher
Graduation Rates	~60% for full-time students	Often below 30%
Support Services	Academic advising, tutoring, career centers	Often outsourced or minimal
Faculty Interaction	In-person, tenured professors	Automated systems or adjuncts
Cost Efficiency	Lower tuition, especially in-state	Higher cost per credit hour
Outcomes	Better job placement and earnings potential	Mixed results, often lower ROI

Sources: National Center for Education Statistics; Higher Education Inquirer research

Who Are the Robocolleges?

The following institutions have been identified by the Higher Education Inquirer as leading examples of the robocollege model:

• Liberty University Online: A nonprofit institution with massive online enrollment and over $8 billion in federal student loan debt, especially at the graduate level.

• Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU): With more than 160,000 online students, SNHU has become a leader in automation and AI-driven instruction.

• University of Phoenix: Once the largest for-profit college, now operating as a nonprofit affiliate of the University of Idaho. It has reduced instruction and services by $100 million annually while maintaining high profits.

• Colorado Technical University (CTU): Known for its use of machine learning and data analytics to manage student advising and engagement.

• Purdue University Global: A public university operating a former for-profit model, with deep ties to Kaplan Education and significant outsourcing.

• University of Arizona Global Campus (UAGC): Formerly Ashford University, now part of the University of Arizona system. It offers accelerated online degrees with limited faculty interaction.

The Robocollege Model

These schools rely on automated learning platforms, outsourced services, and aggressive marketing to attract students—often working adults, veterans, and low-income learners. While they promise flexibility and access, critics argue they deliver shallow curricula, minimal support, and poor job placement.

The Consequences

Many students leave robocolleges with significant debt and no degree to show for it. Partnerships with Online Program Managers (OPMs) like 2U and EducationDynamics have drawn criticism for deceptive recruitment practices and inflated costs. Public confidence in higher ed is eroding, and students are increasingly seeking alternative routes to meaningful work.

What’s Next?

As tuition costs rise and outcomes falter, the Higher Education Inquirer will continue investigating whether robocolleges represent a legitimate future for learning—or a cautionary tale of commercialized education gone awry.

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

Decades of Systemic Corruption

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

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

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

The Trump-Hegseth Department of Defense

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

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

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

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

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

The Supreme Court's Medicaid Ruling and the Manufactured War on Reproductive Health: A Response to Liberty University's “Freedom Center”

On June 26, 2025, the U.S. Supreme Court handed down a 6-3 decision in Medina v. Planned Parenthood South Atlantic, allowing South Carolina to remove Planned Parenthood from its list of Medicaid providers. While the decision raises serious legal and ethical concerns, it is the celebratory response from Liberty University's Standing for Freedom Center that warrants deeper scrutiny. Their framing of this decision as a moral and policy victory is not only misleading—it is a dangerous piece of religious nationalism masquerading as public policy commentary.

The Freedom Center’s narrative—couched in biblical justification, political triumphalism, and ideological fervor—ignores the very real, lived consequences for working-class women and college students across South Carolina and beyond. It presents a sanitized vision of “Christian governance” while masking the cruelty of stripping access to basic healthcare from the most vulnerable populations. This is not “standing for freedom”—this is the strategic consolidation of patriarchal, classist, and theocratic power.

A Direct Attack on Low-Income Women and Families

Let’s be clear: this ruling does not merely "redirect funding." It restricts access to cancer screenings, contraception, STI testing, and other non-abortion services provided by Planned Parenthood clinics—especially to Medicaid recipients, many of whom are low-income women, students, and working mothers. In South Carolina, two Planned Parenthood clinics served thousands of such patients. The claim that these women can simply go elsewhere is glib and unsubstantiated.

The Freedom Center boasts that over 140 “federally qualified community centers and pregnancy centers” exist to fill the gap. But these centers are notoriously inconsistent in the quality and availability of care, especially for reproductive health. Many so-called “pregnancy crisis centers” provide no medical care at all and are known to mislead and shame patients. Access to meaningful, comprehensive reproductive care is not about the number of buildings—it’s about the quality, scope, and inclusiveness of services. Pretending otherwise is disingenuous at best.

Medicaid Recipients Silenced

At the heart of Medina is a deeply troubling precedent: individuals who depend on Medicaid can no longer sue the state if their access to providers is unilaterally restricted. The decision hinges on the argument that the Medicaid Act doesn’t explicitly allow private citizens to sue—a reversal of decades of precedent that protected patient choice.

This decision silences not just providers but patients. It strips legal recourse from low-income Americans and hands unchecked discretion to governors like South Carolina’s Henry McMaster, who has made no secret of his desire to eliminate abortion access altogether. If these actions are now unchallengeable in court, states can act with near impunity—denying healthcare access in the name of ideology.

Religious Rhetoric Masquerading as Law

The Freedom Center frames this decision in stark theological terms. According to their article, the ruling is not just a legal victory—it is a “Christian” one. They cite Scripture, claim to act in the name of Jesus, and assert that governments are “tasked by God to restrain evil.” This is a vision of governance not rooted in the Constitution or the Bill of Rights, but in a theocratic reinterpretation of American democracy.

This is especially chilling when one considers that Liberty University is not merely a religious institution but a political machine—one with deep ties to the Republican Party and far-right policy networks. Through this lens, Medina is not about “protecting life,” but about using state power to enforce a specific religious worldview, regardless of the collateral damage to women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and poor families.

The Broader Agenda: Criminalizing Reproductive Autonomy

Since the fall of Roe v. Wade, we’ve seen a steady escalation of attacks not just on abortion rights, but on reproductive autonomy more broadly—including access to contraception, gender-affirming care, and maternal health services. The Medina decision emboldens state-level campaigns to further criminalize, defund, and stigmatize reproductive healthcare. Liberty University’s Freedom Center doesn’t shy away from this broader agenda—they celebrate it.

They claim that Planned Parenthood “profits off abortion” and “distributes dangerous gender-transition drugs to minors”—a set of dog-whistle phrases designed to provoke fear and reinforce transphobic, misogynistic tropes. These claims lack evidence, but they serve a strategic function: demonizing reproductive healthcare providers and setting the stage for more sweeping restrictions and persecutions.

The Real Cost: Educated Underclass and the Erosion of Public Health

This ruling and the rhetoric around it disproportionately affect working-class women, students, and Black and brown communities. As colleges increasingly serve nontraditional, low-income, and first-generation students, many of whom rely on Medicaid, these policies create new barriers to health, education, and economic mobility.

We must ask: who benefits from the creation of an underclass without access to healthcare or legal recourse? Who profits from forcing women to carry unwanted pregnancies while cutting funding for childcare, education, and public health? The answer isn’t God—it’s a political and economic elite that thrives on disempowerment, all while hiding behind the cross.

Orwellian Freedom

The Supreme Court’s Medina decision is not a victory for “freedom” but a blow to democratic rights and healthcare access. Liberty University’s Freedom Center celebrates it not as a legal analysis, but as a religious crusade. Their euphemistic language about “protecting life” and “comprehensive care” distracts from the real consequences: more suffering, fewer options, and deepening inequality.

The Higher Education Inquirer stands in opposition to this dystopian vision. We support the rights of students, workers, and families to access comprehensive, evidence-based healthcare—free from political and religious coercion. This fight is not just about abortion—it is about the right to bodily autonomy, the right to sue the government when it harms you, and the right to live free from imposed theological rule.

Liberty Lost: A Stark Look at Faith, Power, and Reproductive Coercion at Liberty University

 In the new podcast Liberty Lost, journalist T.J. Raphael uncovers a deeply unsettling system operating within the bounds of one of America’s largest evangelical universities. Set in the heart of Lynchburg, Virginia, at Liberty University, the story centers around the Liberty Godparent Home—a little-known facility for pregnant teens with close institutional and ideological ties to the university founded by Jerry Falwell Sr.

What begins as a place of supposed refuge for young, unmarried women who become pregnant quickly reveals itself to be a pressure chamber for coerced adoption—wrapped in Christian fundamentalist dogma and amplified by the material incentives of access to a Liberty University education. For some girls, like Abbi, the protagonist of the podcast’s first episodes, the cost of obedience is not only personal but generational.

The podcast, released by Wondery and available on all major platforms, chronicles Abbi’s harrowing journey into the Liberty Godparent Home, where she’s isolated from her family and friends, counseled by religious figures with a clear agenda, and told in no uncertain terms that “God wants her baby to go to a more deserving Christian couple.” Behind the language of “choice” and “support,” the message is clear: parenting is discouraged, and adoption is moralized.

These adoptions are not only shaped by theology but by an implicit transaction. Girls who go through with adoption are more likely to receive full scholarships to Liberty University. Refuse, and they risk being cast aside—denied the academic support and financial stability promised by the institution. It’s a system in which teenage girls’ reproductive choices are entangled with Liberty’s brand of moral authority, educational opportunity, and patriarchal control.

Raphael carefully weaves together interviews with former residents, including those who’ve grown into adulthood haunted by the trauma of giving up their children. Their stories span decades, and together they paint a picture of a deeply entrenched culture of reproductive coercion masked as Christian charity. The podcast also traces how these practices—long thought to have faded after the peak of “maternity homes” in the 20th century—are resurging in post-Roe America. Liberty is not an outlier, but rather a flagship in a growing movement.

The implications for higher education are chilling. Liberty University, already known for its regressive social policies and political entanglements, appears to be operating a pipeline where vulnerable teens are funneled through a reproductive system designed to serve religious ideology and institutional branding, rather than their own well-being. It’s not just a question of faith—it’s a question of ethics, autonomy, and what happens when educational institutions leverage opportunity against obedience.

Liberty Lost should serve as a call to investigate not just one university or one home, but an entire network of under-regulated faith-based institutions profiting—spiritually and materially—from the forced sacrifices of young women. At a time when the nation’s reproductive rights are under siege, the podcast is both a warning and a demand: to listen, to document, and to hold accountable those who wield education as a weapon.

For those interested in the intersections of religion, power, and reproductive justice in U.S. higher education, Liberty Lost is essential listening—and a sobering reminder that the struggle for bodily autonomy does not end at the gates of a university. It may very well begin there.

Supreme Court Ruling Threatens Healthcare Access for Working-Class College Women

In a landmark ruling on June 26, the U.S. Supreme Court sided with South Carolina in its effort to defund Planned Parenthood by excluding it from the state’s Medicaid program. The Court’s 6-3 decision, issued along ideological lines, has far-reaching consequences that extend well beyond the politics of abortion. At stake is the ability of Medicaid recipients to challenge state actions that restrict access to qualified healthcare providers, and among those most affected are working-class women—particularly those trying to build better futures through higher education.

For millions of low-income students, particularly women attending community colleges, for-profit institutions, and public universities, Medicaid and Planned Parenthood are vital safety nets. These students often juggle full course loads with jobs, caregiving responsibilities, and personal financial struggles. For them, Planned Parenthood has been more than a provider of abortion services. It offers birth control, cancer screenings, STI testing, reproductive counseling, and referrals for other necessary medical care. In many areas, especially in the South and rural regions like South Carolina, Planned Parenthood is one of the few accessible providers that treat Medicaid patients with dignity and without judgment.

The Supreme Court’s ruling removes the legal power of those patients to sue when a state excludes such providers from the Medicaid program, even if those providers are otherwise qualified. In her dissent, Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson wrote that this decision would result in "tangible harm to real people," depriving Medicaid recipients of their only meaningful way to enforce rights Congress granted them. And she’s right. The ruling effectively silences the most vulnerable people in the healthcare system—people who are too poor to pay out of pocket and too marginalized to be heard in political decision-making.

For working-class women in college, this decision could be devastating. When they lose access to affordable reproductive healthcare, their academic goals are put at risk. The ability to plan pregnancies, receive prenatal care, or treat chronic reproductive health issues is foundational to educational persistence and success. Without it, students may drop out due to unplanned pregnancies, untreated health conditions, or overwhelming financial strain. This outcome is particularly likely for women of color, who are already overrepresented in low-income student populations and underrepresented in graduation rates.

The myth that working-class women have “plenty of other options” falls apart under scrutiny. In South Carolina, nearly 40 percent of counties are considered “contraceptive deserts,” areas where access to affordable contraception is limited or nonexistent. While the state claims there are over a hundred other clinics available, many of these lack the staffing, specialization, or welcoming environment of Planned Parenthood. In practice, the choice is not between providers—it’s between care and no care.

Beyond immediate healthcare impacts, the ruling has structural implications for the political economy of both education and health. It reveals how deeply interlinked these systems are, and how the erosion of rights in one domain—healthcare—directly undermines access and equity in another—education. This is not an isolated case. It fits into a broader strategy by right-wing legislators and courts to control reproductive autonomy, silence poor people’s legal recourse, and undermine public systems that serve the working class.

It also exposes the hypocrisy of institutions and corporations that profit from inequality. As this ruling was being issued, ads for Hillsdale College and the University of Phoenix appeared alongside the coverage, promoting liberty and career advancement while healthcare infrastructure for their target demographics crumbles. This is the business model of disaster capitalism—undermine public goods, then monetize the chaos.

The consequences will be real and immediate. A working mother studying to become a nurse or teacher may now have to miss classes or drop out because she cannot get a Pap smear, refill her birth control, or find prenatal care. A young Black student in a Southern community college may now have no place to turn when she needs reproductive health services. A low-income family may be forced into debt to treat a preventable condition that would have been caught in a routine screening at Planned Parenthood. These are not hypothetical scenarios. They are the daily realities of an educated underclass pushed further to the margins.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to follow this story as GOP-led states are expected to follow South Carolina’s lead, and as advocacy organizations brace for a long and difficult fight. For now, the Supreme Court’s decision stands as a sobering reminder that health, education, and justice in America remain deeply entangled—and increasingly inaccessible—for those without wealth or political power.

Trump, Hegseth, and the Bombing of Iran: Taking the Bait at America’s Peril

The sudden arrival of the U.S. Air Force's E-4B “Doomsday Plane” at Joint Base Andrews this week has reignited fears of impending military escalation in the Middle East. As speculation swirls online and among defense analysts, President Donald Trump and his Fox News consigliere Pete Hegseth appear to be inching dangerously close to embracing a war plan that plays into the hands of both their domestic political ambitions and the geopolitical strategies of their adversaries.

The E-4B, also known as “Nightwatch,” is no ordinary aircraft. Built to survive a nuclear attack, maintain satellite command and control in the event of total ground disruption, and oversee the execution of emergency war orders, its presence near Washington, D.C. signals something far more than routine military procedure. The use of a rare callsign—"ORDER01"—instead of the standard "ORDER6" only stokes the sense that we are on the brink of another catastrophic foreign policy decision.

This show of force comes amid rising tensions with Iran, exacerbated by ongoing Israeli aggression and increased Iranian defiance. But rather than de-escalate or seek diplomatic offramps, Trump and Hegseth—cheered on by neoconservative holdovers and MAGA populists—seem eager to provoke or retaliate with military might.

Political Theater with Global Consequences

The specter of bombing Iran isn’t just about foreign policy—it’s political theater. In the lead-up to a contentious election cycle, Trump is once again playing the wartime president, wielding fear and nationalism to consolidate support. For Hegseth, a veteran turned right-wing media figure, the promise of patriotic glory and "restoring American strength" makes for good ratings and even better branding. Both men are using the possibility of war as a campaign tool—recklessly gambling with global stability.

Yet the U.S. has nothing to gain from an expanded conflict with Iran. If anything, such an act plays directly into the strategic interests of hardliners in Tehran and Tel Aviv alike. For Iran’s theocratic regime, American aggression would bolster internal solidarity and justify further authoritarian crackdowns. For Israel’s leadership, it would secure unwavering U.S. allegiance in their own campaign of regional dominance. For both, American bombs would mean the end of diplomatic ambiguity.

Higher Education and the Fog of War

War is also profitable—for defense contractors, media networks, and privatized universities that specialize in churning out online degrees in homeland security and intelligence studies. Institutions like the Liberty University, whose ads routinely appear alongside war reporting, are the educational arm of the war economy, training an underpaid, precariously employed labor force in service of endless conflict. These for-profit institutions have long aligned themselves with militarism, offering “education benefits” that function as recruitment tools for the armed forces.

Meanwhile, real intellectual inquiry is under siege. Faculty who question U.S. foreign policy—particularly in the Middle East—face surveillance, harassment, and cancellation. Dissenting students are monitored. Grants for critical research dry up, while think tanks funded by the arms industry flourish. Universities become staging grounds for ideological conformity, not bastions of free thought.

Taking the Bait

Trump and Hegseth are being lured into a trap—one that benefits the very global elites they claim to oppose. Escalating with Iran serves the military-industrial complex, shores up Israeli hardliners, and consolidates state power under the guise of national emergency. At home, it means more surveillance, more censorship, and more austerity for working families already reeling from inflation and housing insecurity.

In the end, the cost of war will not be borne by Trump or Hegseth. It will be borne by low-income soldiers, the people of Iran, and the students who forgo education for military service. It will be paid for by cutting healthcare, housing, and higher education. And it will hollow out American democracy, all while propping up the illusion of strength.

This is not leadership. This is entrapment. And it’s time we said so—loudly, before the next bombs drop.

Parental Pushback: Liberal Resistance to Right-Wing Indoctrination in Oklahoma Schools

In the heart of red-state America, a quiet rebellion is taking shape—led not by liberal politicians or university activists, but by parents of K-12 students. In Oklahoma, a growing number of families are fighting back against what they see as an aggressive ideological campaign by far-right leaders to insert misinformation, religious doctrine, and partisan propaganda into public school classrooms.

This resistance is not coming through marches or lawsuits alone, but through the very legal tools that conservatives once championed: parental rights. Families across the state are opting their children out of controversial new social studies standards that they claim distort U.S. history, undermine democratic institutions, and promote Christian nationalism.

Tulsa parent Lauren Parker is among the voices leading this countercharge. “Now that it’s being codified and now that it’s being brought more into the public eye, the liberals have realized that those are our rights too,” she said.

Her main concern: language recently added to Oklahoma’s social studies curriculum that questions the legitimacy of the 2020 presidential election. The standards require students to "identify discrepancies" in the results, echoing discredited claims advanced by Donald Trump and his supporters. These include references to “sudden halting of ballot-counting,” “sudden batch dumps,” and “security risks of mail-in balloting”—all without factual basis, and all now embedded in state-mandated education.

These standards were quietly introduced by State Superintendent Ryan Walters and passed by the Oklahoma State Board of Education, some of whom now claim they were unaware of the changes at the time of the vote. A legal challenge is pending in Oklahoma County District Court, questioning the procedures used to approve the new standards.

The opt-out movement has been fueled by organizations like We’re Oklahoma Education—WOKE—formed as a progressive response to right-wing parent groups like Moms for Liberty. WOKE provides parents with templated letters to exempt their children from lessons that include election misinformation, Biblical teachings, and content produced by conservative media outlets like PragerU and ideologically driven institutions like Hillsdale College and Turning Point USA.

“If you believe parents know best, then that applies to all parents,” said WOKE director Erica Watkins, a mother of two public school students in Jenks. Watkins, who describes her family as non-religious, said she won’t allow her children to be taught about Christian scripture in a public school classroom.

Walters has defended the addition of Biblical content as a way to provide historical context, arguing that the teachings of Jesus and the Bible shaped the country’s founding values. But parents like Parker see it differently: “This isn’t about history and facts. It’s about pushing their faith on us, and that’s unacceptable. It’s un-American.”

WOKE members are extending their efforts beyond classrooms. Their opt-out letters also reject any “interaction” with Walters and reject the use of content linked to partisan or religious agendas. In some districts, including Stillwater and Tulsa, school officials have indicated a willingness to honor these requests while awaiting clearer guidance on how to implement the new standards.

Ironically, the legal protections that parents are now invoking stem from Republican-led legislation designed to protect children from what conservatives labeled as “woke indoctrination.” Now, the same legal framework is being used to resist the imposition of a narrow, ideologically driven curriculum. As Senate Minority Leader Julia Kirt noted, “If we have separate schools for everybody who has different beliefs, we’re going to have some real challenges.”

That challenge isn't just philosophical. The battle for K-12 curriculum is already shaping higher education outcomes. Students trained in a politically skewed version of American history may enter college unprepared for academic rigor, especially in disciplines like political science, history, and journalism. Public universities in red states could increasingly find themselves in conflict with the ideological pressures shaping their incoming student populations. Faculty, already under scrutiny in places like Florida and Texas, may have to navigate a new wave of cultural and political tension on campus.

Meanwhile, the polarization of public education is reinforcing broader national divides—between those who see schools as places of civic development and democratic inquiry, and those who view them as battlegrounds in a culture war.

The resistance in Oklahoma marks a new chapter in that war. It's a reminder that parental rights are not the sole property of any political party—and that misinformation, no matter how it’s packaged, won’t go unchallenged. The pushback from parents like Parker and Watkins reflects a broader struggle for control over public education, truth, and the future of American democracy.

And in this fight, the line between K-12 and higher education grows thinner every day.

Liberty University Targeting Vets for Robocollege Master's Degrees

Liberty University, one of the largest Christian universities in the world, has built an educational empire by promoting conservative values and offering flexible online degree programs to hundreds of thousands of students. But behind the pious branding and patriotic marketing lies a troubling pattern: Liberty University Online has become a master’s degree debt factory, churning out credentials of questionable value while generating billions in student loan debt.

Massive Debt Load: New Federal Data

The Higher Education Inquirer has recently received a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) response (25-01939-F) confirming the staggering financial footprint of Liberty University’s loan-driven model. According to the data, more than 290,000 Liberty University student loan debtors collectively owe over $8 billion in federal student loan debt.

This figure places Liberty among the nation’s top producers of student debt, especially at the graduate level. The data underscores the scale of Liberty’s online operation—and raises serious concerns about the value students are receiving in return for their investment.

From Moral Majority to Mass Marketing

Founded in 1971 by televangelist Jerry Falwell Sr., Liberty University was created to train “Champions for Christ.” In the 2000s, the university reinvented itself through online education, growing from a modest evangelical college into a global mega-university. Today, nearly 95,000 students are enrolled online—most of them nontraditional learners pursuing graduate credentials in fields like education, business, counseling, and theology.

This transformation was powered by digital marketing, religious rhetoric, and direct appeals to working adults and veterans. But what has emerged is a high-volume, low-engagement “robocollege” model that has led to massive student debt and mixed outcomes.

A For-Profit Model in Nonprofit Clothing

Though it operates as a nonprofit, Liberty functions much like a for-profit college. Its online programs generate an estimated $1 billion in annual revenue, mostly through federal student aid and military education benefits.

Students are funneled into fast-tracked, eight-week master’s programs that promise convenience but often fail to deliver quality or post-graduate opportunity. According to U.S. Department of Education data, median graduate student debt at Liberty ranges from $40,000 to $70,000, while returns on investment—measured in earnings and job placement—are questionable at best.

Robocollege for Warriors

Liberty markets itself as a military-friendly institution and has enrolled over 40,000 military-affiliated students in recent years. Through patriotic branding and targeted discounts, the university appeals to service members seeking affordable, faith-based education.

However, Liberty does not extend military tuition discounts to LGBTQ spouses or partners, effectively excluding same-sex families from benefits offered to heterosexual military couples. This discriminatory policy contradicts federal nondiscrimination principles but has gone unchallenged by any federal oversight agency, including the U.S. Department of Education, the Department of Defense, and the Department of Veterans Affairs.

The absence of accountability underscores a broader pattern: religious institutions like Liberty continue to receive billions in public funds while applying selective moral frameworks to exclude marginalized communities.

Liberty’s discriminatory practices add insult to injury for LGBTQ military students and their families, who are asked to sacrifice for their country but denied equal access to educational support.

Automated, Ideologically Charged Learning

Liberty’s academic model is highly automated and often superficial. Online coursework typically consists of textbook readings, quizzes, and templated discussion posts—with little direct instruction or feedback from faculty. Many students report that religious ideology is embedded in even technical fields, from business to engineering.

“They put scripture in every assignment—sometimes where it makes no sense,” said one former student.
“It’s more like an indoctrination pipeline than a graduate school,” added a military spouse who withdrew from the program.

Liberty’s online aviation program came under fire in 2023 when the VA suspended GI Bill payments due to quality concerns. Veterans were left stranded mid-program, forced to pause their education or self-fund tuition after losing federal support.

A Dual Identity: Race and Class Divides

Liberty’s racial and socioeconomic divides are stark. Its residential campus in Lynchburg, Virginia, is 74% white, with just 4% of students identifying as Black, 5% Latino, and 2% Asian or Pacific Islander. The number of African American students on campus has declined in recent years, even as national college demographics diversify.

This imbalance reflects Liberty’s historical roots: founder Jerry Falwell Sr. publicly defended racial segregation and opposed civil rights legislation in the 1960s. While Liberty has distanced itself from these positions rhetorically, the legacy remains visible in the composition and culture of the on-campus student body.

In contrast, Liberty University Online (LUO) is much more diverse. In 2017, only 51% of LUO undergraduates were white, and 15.4% identified as Black. Many LUO students are older, work full-time, and represent the multiracial, working-class America that Liberty’s campus culture does not reflect or represent.

Exploiting Faith and Patriotism

Liberty’s marketing presents education as a spiritual and patriotic calling—especially appealing to military families and first-generation students seeking purpose and stability. But behind the inspirational messaging lies a hard financial truth: many students are left with heavy debt and degrees that may not align with licensure standards or employer expectations.

Liberty pours resources into advertising and retention but spends comparatively little on faculty pay, student advising, or academic support. Complaints about misleading information, difficulty transferring credits, and job placement struggles are common.

Lack of Oversight, Political Protection

Despite numerous scandals—including leadership resignations, sexual misconduct coverups, and allegations of financial mismanagement—Liberty continues to operate with limited regulatory scrutiny. Its nonprofit status and political influence, particularly within conservative circles, shield it from the kind of oversight faced by for-profit colleges.

During the Trump administration, higher education accountability was dramatically weakened, giving Liberty and similar institutions near-total freedom to expand unchecked. That permissive environment remains largely intact.

A Cautionary Tale in Christian Capitalism

Liberty University’s rise reveals a troubling convergence of religion, profit, and political power. What’s marketed as moral education is often little more than credential inflation funded by public debt. And for students of color, LGBTQ families, and military veterans, the promises of upward mobility too often end in disappointment—and financial ruin.

With more than 290,000 Liberty student loan debtors owing over $8 billion, the scale of Liberty’s impact on the nation’s student debt crisis is undeniable. Yet its discriminatory practices, especially against LGBTQ military families, go unanswered by federal authorities.

For an institution claiming to train "Champions for Christ," Liberty’s actions tell a different story—one where profit is paramount, and equity is an afterthought.

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The Higher Education Inquirer will continue investigating Liberty University and similar institutions, particularly those profiting from vulnerable populations under the banners of faith, freedom, and flag.