The Digital Dark Ages of Higher Education: Greed, Myth, and the Ghosts of Lost Knowledge

In a time of unprecedented data collection, artificial intelligence, and networked access to information, it seems unthinkable that we could be slipping into a new Dark Age. But that is precisely what is unfolding in American higher education—a Digital Dark Age marked not just by the disappearance of records, but by the disappearance of truth.

This is not a passive erosion of information. It is a systemic, coordinated effort to conceal institutional failure, to commodify public knowledge, and to weaponize mythology. It is a collapse not of technology, but of ethics and memory.

A Dark Age in Plain Sight

Digital decay is usually associated with vanishing files and outdated formats. In higher education, it takes the more sinister form of intentional erasure. Data that once offered accountability—graduation rates, job placement figures, loan default data, even course materials—have become reputational liabilities. When inconvenient, they vanish.

Gainful Employment data disappeared from federal websites under the Trump administration. Student outcomes from for-profit conversions are obscured through accounting tricks. Internal audits and consultant reports sit behind NDAs and paywalls. And when institutions close or rebrand, their failures are scrubbed from the record like Soviet photographs.

This is a higher education system consumed by image management, where inconvenient truths are buried under branded mythologies.

The Robocolleges and the Rise of the Algorithm

No phenomenon illustrates this transformation more starkly than the rise of robocolleges—fully online institutions like Southern New Hampshire University, University of Phoenix, and Liberty University Online. These institutions, driven more by enrollment growth than educational mission, are built to scale, surveil, and extract.

Their architecture is not intellectual but algorithmic: automated learning systems, outsourced instructors, and AI-driven behavioral analytics replace human-centered pedagogy. Data replaces dialogue. And all of it happens behind proprietary systems controlled by Online Program Managers (OPMs)—for-profit companies like 2U, Academic Partnerships, and Wiley that handle recruitment, curriculum design, and marketing for universities, often taking a majority cut of tuition revenue.

These robocolleges aren’t built to educate; they’re built to profit. They are credential vending machines with advertising budgets, protected by political lobbying and obscured by branding.

And they are perfectly suited to a Digital Dark Age, where metrics are manipulated, failures are hidden, and education is indistinguishable from a subscription service.

Myth #1: The College Degree as Guaranteed Mobility

The dominant myth still peddled by these institutions—and many traditional ones—is that a college degree is a golden ticket to upward mobility. But in an economy of stagnant wages, rising tuition, and unpayable debt, this narrative is a weapon.

Robocolleges and their OPM partners sell dreams on Instagram and YouTube—“Success stories,” “first-gen pride,” and inflated salary stats—while ignoring the mountains of debt, dropout rates, and lifelong economic precarity their students face. And when those stories come to light? They disappear behind legal threats, settlements, and strategic rebranding.

The dream has become a trap, and the myth has become a means of extraction.

Myth #2: Innovation Through EdTech

“Tech will save us” is the second great myth. EdTech companies promise to revolutionize learning through adaptive platforms, AI tutors, and automated assessments. But what they really offer is surveillance, cost-cutting, and outsourcing.

Institutions are increasingly beholden to opaque algorithms and third-party platforms that strip faculty of agency and students of privacy. Assessment becomes analytics. Learning becomes labor. And the metrics these systems produce—completion rates, engagement data—are as easily manipulated as they are misunderstood.

Far from democratizing education, EdTech has helped turn it into a digital panopticon, where every click is monetized, and every action is tracked.

Myth #3: The Digital Campus as a Public Good

Universities love to claim that their digital campuses are open and inclusive. But in truth, access is restricted, commercialized, and disappearing.

Libraries are gutted. Archives are defunded. Publicly funded research is locked behind publisher paywalls. Historical documents, administrative records, even syllabi are now ephemeral—stored on private platforms, subject to deletion at will. The digital campus is a gated community, and the public is locked out.

Third-party vendors now control what students read, how they’re taught, and who can access the past. Memory is no longer a public good—it is a leased service.

Greed, Cheating, and Digital Amnesia

This is not simply a story about decay—it is a story about cheating. Not just by students, but by institutions themselves.

Colleges cheat by manipulating data to mislead accreditors and prospective students. OPMs cheat by obscuring their contracts and revenue-sharing models. Robocolleges cheat by prioritizing growth over learning. And all of them cheat when they hide the truth, delete the data, or suppress the whistleblowers.

Faculty are silenced through non-disclosure agreements. Archivists are laid off. Historians and librarians are told to “streamline” and “rebrand” rather than preserve and inform. The keepers of memory are being dismissed, just when we need them most.

Myth as Memory Hole

The Digital Dark Ages are not merely a result of failing tech—they are the logical outcome of a system that values profit over truth, optics over integrity, and compliance over inquiry.

Greed isn’t incidental. It’s the design. And the myths propagated by robocolleges, OPMs, and traditional universities alike are the cover stories that keep the public sedated and the money flowing.

American higher education once aspired to be a sanctuary of memory, a force for social mobility, and a guardian of public knowledge. But it is now drifting toward becoming a black box—a mythologized, monetized shadow of its former self, accessible only through marketing and controlled by vendors.

Without intervention—legal, financial, and intellectual—we risk becoming a society where education is an illusion, memory is curated, and truth is whatever survives the deletion script.

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Sources and References:

• Savage Inequalities, Jonathan Kozol

• Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed

• Christopher Newfield, The Great Mistake

• Nancy MacLean, Democracy in Chains

• U.S. Department of Education archives (missing Gainful Employment data)

• “Paywall: The Business of Scholarship” (2018)

• SPARC (Scholarly Publishing and Academic Resources Coalition)

• Internet Archive reports on digital preservation

• ProPublica and The Century Foundation on OPMs and robocolleges

• Faculty union reports on librarian and archivist layoffs

• Inside Higher Ed and The Chronicle of Higher Education coverage of data manipulation, robocolleges, and institutional opacity

How Neoliberalism Haunts Our Lives: 24/7/365

Neoliberalism isn’t just an economic theory or a dry policy framework. It’s a lived reality that operates around the clock, shaping our lives in ways many people don’t fully see. Neoliberalism tells us that markets solve everything, that individual responsibility trumps social solidarity, and that human worth is best measured by productivity, consumption, and credentialing. Its presence is constant—at work, in education, in healthcare, in housing, even in our relationships.

This is not a new critique. But as the 21st century drags on and late capitalism becomes more extractive, predatory, and digitally surveilled, the impacts of neoliberal ideology have intensified. For the working class, for students, for adjuncts, for debtors, for renters, and for the chronically ill, neoliberalism is not an abstraction—it is a system of permanent exhaustion.

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The Day Begins: Sleep-Deprived and Algorithmically Watched

The neoliberal day begins before the alarm rings. If you’re poor, you may be sleeping in your car or waking up in a crowded home. If you’re middle-class, the first thing you see is likely your phone, already feeding you metrics about your body (sleep scores, heart rate, missed messages). Neoliberal logic tells us our time must be optimized, even our rest must be productive.

Gig workers check their apps to see if they’ll get enough rides or orders to survive. Others log into remote jobs monitored by keystroke trackers, digital timesheets, or AI productivity tools. Control is constant, and surveillance is internalized: we discipline ourselves with planners, metrics, reminders, shame.

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Education: Credentials Over Knowledge

For students, neoliberal education is a high-cost simulation of opportunity. Degrees are sold as investments in "human capital," with ever-rising tuition and debt. Public funding is replaced by predatory loans, branding consultants, and privatized ed-tech platforms. The curriculum is shaped by market demand, not civic responsibility. Liberal arts are gutted, and adjuncts are paid poverty wages while administrators balloon in number.

The university, once imagined as a space for critical thinking and collective inquiry, is now a debt-fueled credential mill—an HR pipeline for corporations, a subscription model of social mobility that rarely delivers.

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Healthcare: A Business of Despair

Neoliberalism doesn’t take a break when you get sick. In fact, your illness becomes a profit center. In the U.S., the healthcare system is a financial trap. Insurance is often tied to employment; losing your job means losing your access to care. Big Pharma, hospital chains, and insurance conglomerates operate under the logic of maximizing shareholder value—not public health.

Even mental health is commodified. Wellness apps, “self-care” products, and Instagram therapy push the idea that individual solutions will fix systemic problems. Suffering is reframed as personal failure.

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Housing: A Market, Not a Human Right

Housing insecurity is one of neoliberalism’s clearest failures. Real estate speculation, gentrification, and the financialization of housing have made shelter a luxury good. Renters face skyrocketing costs and eviction threats, while homes sit vacant as investment vehicles.

Public housing is stigmatized and underfunded. Homelessness becomes a criminal issue instead of a humanitarian one. You’re told to “pull yourself up” while the ladder is systematically removed.

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Work and Labor: You're Always On

The 9-to-5 is no longer the norm. Neoliberal work is either hyper-precarious or all-consuming. The gig economy pretends to offer flexibility, but in practice it strips away rights, benefits, and security. Professional workers face unpaid overtime, side hustles, and an expectation of constant availability. Labor laws lag decades behind. Union-busting is normalized.

At the same time, those without work are treated with suspicion. Unemployment, disability, and even retirement are framed as moral failings or burdens on the system.

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Nightfall: No Rest for the Weary

At night, the apps don’t sleep. Your data is still harvested. Your bank is still charging fees. Your landlord’s algorithm is still adjusting rent. Your student loan is still accruing interest. Your body, overstressed and under-cared-for, begins to break down.

Even dreams aren’t free: entertainment has been colonized by neoliberal culture, feeding you aspirational lifestyles and endless content to dull your exhaustion. Everything is monetized. Everything is a subscription.

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Resistance in the Cracks

Despite its pervasiveness, neoliberalism is not invincible. People are resisting in small and large ways—through union organizing, mutual aid, alternative media, degrowth activism, and radical pedagogy. These aren’t just political choices; they are survival strategies.

But for resistance to grow, we must name the problem clearly. Neoliberalism is not just a phase of capitalism—it’s an ideology embedded in every institution and mediated by every platform. It isolates us, overworks us, and extracts from us while pretending to offer freedom and choice.

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The 24/7/365 Trap

We live in neoliberalism’s world, but we don’t have to live by its rules. That starts with refusing its myths: that poverty is personal failure, that education is a private good, that health must be earned, that the market is sacred.

As long as neoliberalism governs our lives without challenge, inequality will deepen and democracy will continue to erode. The question isn’t whether we can afford to abandon neoliberalism—the question is whether we can survive if we don’t.

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Sources:

• Wendy Brown, Undoing the Demos

• David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism

• Sarah Jaffe, Work Won’t Love You Back

• Marion Fourcade and Kieran Healy, “Seeing Like a Market”

• Astra Taylor, The Age of Insecurity

• Michael Hudson, The Destiny of Civilization

• Maurizio Lazzarato, The Making of the Indebted Man

Volcano Rumbles: Higher Education and the Unfolding Crisis of American Democracy

“When Fascism came into power, most people were unprepared, both theoretically and practically. They were unable to believe that man could exhibit such propensities for evil, such lust for power, such disregard for the rights of the weak, or such yearning for submission. Only a few had been aware of the rumbling of the volcano preceding the outbreak.”

—Erich Fromm, Escape From Freedom

On this Independence Day in 2025, the air is heavy with foreboding. Across the United States, fireworks burst into the sky as if nothing has changed. But below the spectacle lies a country teetering between democracy and authoritarian rule. The institutions tasked with preserving truth, freedom, and critical thought—most notably higher education—are caught in the crossfire of what Erich Fromm warned of nearly a century ago: the rise of modern fascism, not as a dramatic coup, but as a creeping normalization of authoritarian values under the guise of "freedom."

The Rumbles Before the Eruption

In hindsight, the signs were glaring. Corporate capture of the public good. The erosion of academic freedom. The transformation of universities from spaces of inquiry to credential factories and financial instruments. A growing surveillance infrastructure built not only by Big Tech but in concert with university IT departments, data brokers, and online program managers. The rise of so-called “free speech zones” and legislative gag orders that redefined political speech while silencing dissent.

What we are witnessing is not merely political turbulence—it is a full-scale epistemic breakdown, a national forgetting of what education is supposed to be.

The Trump Spending Bill and Project 2025

The reemergence of Donald Trump on the national stage—and his allies' vision through the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025—has laid bare the authoritarian designs of a political movement bent on reshaping the federal government into a weapon against its own people. Under the new Trump Spending Bill, long-standing environmental protections, civil rights enforcement, and funding for critical education and research have been gutted. Student aid programs like Pell Grants are under siege, while massive giveaways to corporate polluters and military contractors accelerate.

The Department of Education itself is on life support, with Executive Order 14242 outlining a road map for its dissolution. Academic accreditation is being refashioned into a tool of ideological enforcement. DEI initiatives are being replaced with patriotic education mandates, while campuses are encouraged to police faculty and curricula for "anti-Americanism."

Higher Education: Complicit, Crippled, and Co-opted

Higher education did not arrive at this moment innocently. Elite institutions embraced neoliberalism decades ago, relying increasingly on corporate donations, defense contracts, and hedge fund returns. Many public universities, once proud bastions of working-class mobility, became tuition-dependent and debt-financed enterprises.

For years, scholars warned of growing authoritarian trends in American politics. But those voices—often contingent faculty, graduate students, and independent researchers—were sidelined, their jobs precarious, their influence limited. Meanwhile, college presidents and boards of trustees courted billionaires and politicians, hoping to remain above the fray.

The result is a sector fractured and weakened, unable to mount a coherent defense of democracy. In many places, it has become part of the problem—administered by opportunists, managed by AI-powered surveillance, and staffed by an underclass of overworked adjuncts who barely make a living.

The Yearning for Submission

Fromm’s insight—his warning that many people want to submit—rings especially true today. The cult of personality, the vilification of expertise, and the rise of conspiracy over fact have flourished in a vacuum of meaning and solidarity. Higher education once promised both, but its commodification has left millions alienated, indebted, and skeptical.

The myth of meritocracy—long propped up by institutions like Harvard, Stanford, and the University of Phoenix—has collapsed under the weight of its contradictions. People now look elsewhere for answers: to strongmen, to influencers, to AI chatbots, and to nostalgic visions of a past that never truly existed.

What Comes Next?

This is not a call for despair, but for resistance. If there is hope for American democracy, it lies in reclaiming the public mission of education—not just in words, but in practice.

That means supporting independent and investigative journalism. It means dismantling the corporate stranglehold on curriculum, research, and governance. It means honoring the work of teachers, librarians, and adjuncts who continue to hold the line in the face of overwhelming odds. And it means building alliances with those outside the academy—working families, community organizers, students—who understand that education is not a luxury, but a battleground.

On this Fourth of July, let us not retreat into comfortable myths or cynical fatalism. The volcano is still rumbling. But so too is the conscience of those who refuse to be silenced.

Let us remember: freedom is not inherited—it is practiced, defended, and reimagined in every generation.

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Sources

• Erich Fromm, Escape From Freedom (1941)

• Heritage Foundation, Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise (Project 2025)

• U.S. House of Representatives, 2025 Appropriations Bill

• The Century Foundation, “The Future of Higher Ed in an Age of Authoritarianism” (2024)

• Chronicle of Higher Education, “Colleges Under Siege” (2025)

• Higher Education Inquirer archives

COLLEGE MANIA! America’s Legal High for Families

In America, the pursuit of a college degree has become more than just a step toward a stable future—it’s a culturally sanctioned high, a ritual of aspiration, and a national obsession. “College mania,” as we call it, doesn’t just grip students. It draws in entire families, especially parents who never had the opportunity to attend college themselves. For them, college is a dream they couldn’t fulfill—so they pass it on to their children like a sacred torch.

In today’s America, college mania ranks alongside the thrill of legal marijuana, the rush of sports betting, or the intense puzzle-solving of escape rooms. But while those highs are seen as distractions or vices, the college high is viewed as noble. It’s the American Dream repackaged for the 21st century, and it’s addictive.

The Parents’ Fix

Many parents, especially from working-class or immigrant backgrounds, have internalized the belief that college is the only legitimate path to a better life. Even if they never attended themselves—or perhaps because they didn’t—they want their children to have “more.” More options. More money. More dignity. More safety.

For them, college is the ultimate symbol of success. It’s a way out of generational struggle, an antidote to low-wage work and economic precarity. These parents attend college fairs they don’t understand, cry during campus tours, and invest their savings—and sometimes retirement funds—into test prep, tutoring, and private admissions consultants.

And why wouldn’t they? The entire system—from high school counselors to state and federal policymakers—tells them that college is not just a good idea, but a moral imperative. Not sending your child to college becomes a form of parental failure.

From Hope to Hysteria

College mania often starts early. Children are told in elementary school that their GPA will “matter someday.” By middle school, they’re crafting résumés. High school becomes a war zone of advanced placement courses, volunteer hours, and résumé-building internships. College becomes the grand finale—and parents are cast as both financiers and emotional support staff for the show.

The process has become so intense that some parents—often those who didn’t go to college themselves—feel powerless, swept up in a world of rankings, deadlines, jargon, and predatory loan offers. Many turn to social media for answers, which only fuels the pressure with glossy images of Ivy League acceptance letters and first-day dorm selfies.

The high hits when the letter of acceptance comes. The name-brand college. The merit scholarship. The status symbol. But what comes next isn’t always a soft landing.

The Come-Down

Just like legal highs, the rush of college mania fades fast. Students often find themselves isolated, overwhelmed, or stuck in majors that don’t translate into real employment. Debt piles up. Mental health declines. Parents—who only wanted the best—find themselves watching their children struggle with uncertain futures despite the promise they were sold.

And in the background, an entire industry profits: textbook publishers, loan servicers, admissions consultants, and real estate developers building luxury student housing. Parents and students carry the emotional and financial burden. Institutions rarely do.

The Illusion of Escape

College is marketed as an escape room for the working class—a solvable puzzle with a promised reward at the end. But unlike escape rooms, there are no clues, no guaranteed exit, and often no prize. The thrill comes from trying. The letdown comes from realizing that the door might not open at all.

And yet, families return to the game, generation after generation. College remains the one culturally approved addiction—an expensive, emotionally loaded, legally protected gamble on the future.

College Mania: The American Fixation

College mania isn’t just about education—it’s about class mobility, identity, parental love, and social status. It’s a dopamine rush wrapped in moral virtue, sanctioned by school boards and senators alike. For parents who never went to college, the dream lives on not in themselves, but in their kids. The dream is still alive—but the system surrounding it is broken, bloated, and often brutal.

Until we can rethink what education means—and who it's really for—college mania will continue to dominate American family life. And like all highs, it will leave too many people coming down hard.

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The Higher Education Inquirer documents the myths, markets, and mechanisms of higher education in the United States.

Tracking the Elusive Truth: The Higher Education Inquirer Seeks Decades of Bankruptcy Loan Forgiveness Data

In a modest but potentially revealing inquiry, the Higher Education Inquirer has submitted a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request to the U.S. Department of Education asking for a count of the number of student loans discharged in bankruptcy from 1965 to 2024. The request, dated June 10, 2025, was acknowledged the same day by the Department’s FOIA Service Center under FOIA Request No. 25-03954-F.

“The Higher Education Inquirer is requesting a count of the number of student loans forgiven in bankruptcy per year from 1965 to 2024.”

It’s a simple request with profound implications. While the nation debates student loan forgiveness through executive action and legislative reforms, the forgotten path of bankruptcy discharge—once a legally viable option for debt relief—has been quietly buried over the past several decades.

A Timeline of Restriction: The Death of Bankruptcy Relief

When the Higher Education Act of 1965 established federal student loans, they were treated like other forms of consumer debt. Borrowers could, in principle, discharge them through bankruptcy just like credit card debt or medical bills.

But that began to change in the late 1970s, as concerns over potential abuse of the system gained traction in Congress. In 1976, a new law prohibited the discharge of federal student loans in bankruptcy within the first five years of repayment unless the borrower could prove “undue hardship”—a vague standard that was rarely met.

From there, the restrictions only grew tighter:

• 1990: The waiting period for dischargeability was extended to seven years.

• 1998: The option to discharge federal student loans in bankruptcy for any reason other than “undue hardship” was eliminated entirely. This meant student loan borrowers had to meet the strict and often inaccessible hardship standard at all times.

• 2005: Under the Bankruptcy Abuse Prevention and Consumer Protection Act (BAPCPA), Congress extended the “undue hardship” requirement to most private student loans as well—effectively removing nearly all forms of bankruptcy relief from the table for student debtors.

These changes did not result from clear evidence of widespread abuse. Rather, they were fueled by myths of “deadbeat graduates” walking away from their obligations and by lobbying from banks, guaranty agencies, and debt collection firms that profited from non-dischargeable debt. Meanwhile, evidence of hardship among borrowers grew, especially for those who attended predatory for-profit colleges or dropped out without a degree.

The Brunner Barrier

The biggest obstacle for borrowers remains the so-called “Brunner test,” a three-prong legal standard established in a 1987 court case, Brunner v. New York State Higher Education Services Corp. It requires borrowers to prove:

1. They cannot maintain a minimal standard of living if forced to repay the loans,

2. Their financial situation is unlikely to improve, and

3. They made a good-faith effort to repay the loans.

Many judges interpreted these criteria narrowly, creating a virtually insurmountable hurdle. Borrowers with severe disabilities, advanced age, or long-term unemployment have been denied relief even when destitute.

What We Still Don’t Know

Despite these legal developments and the hardship they created, data on how many people have succeeded in discharging their student loans through bankruptcy remains remarkably scarce. Advocacy groups and journalists have long questioned why no federal agency tracks this information in a clear, public-facing format.

That’s what prompted the Higher Education Inquirer’s FOIA request—an effort to establish a factual baseline. We asked the Department of Education for an annual count of bankruptcy discharges involving student loans over a 60-year period, from 1965 to 2024.

The Bureaucratic Wall

According to the Department’s FOIA Service Center, the average processing time for such requests is currently 185 business days—about nine months. While the Department did not ask for clarification immediately, it reserves the right to do so within ten business days. Failure to respond to such a request would result in administrative closure of the FOIA—yet another form of delay that keeps the public in the dark.

This bureaucratic stonewalling is part of a larger pattern. While the Department of Education has been quick to announce student loan forgiveness programs under executive orders or settlement agreements, it remains reluctant to shine a light on longstanding failures—especially the erosion of legal remedies like bankruptcy.

A Step Toward Truth and Accountability

The public deserves a clear view of the history and consequences of stripping bankruptcy protections from student borrowers. It’s not just a legal matter—it’s a story of systemic neglect, political pressure, and financial exploitation. Without access to historical data, reform remains a guesswork operation and accountability remains elusive.

We at the Higher Education Inquirer will continue to press for answers. If and when the FOIA request is fulfilled, we will publish the data and conduct a thorough analysis, year by year. We believe that exposing the truth about student loan bankruptcy isn’t just a matter of curiosity—it’s a step toward justice.

If you have experience with student loan bankruptcy, data that could assist our investigation, or simply want to share your story, contact us at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu.

PragerU and the Culture War: Manufacturing Myths in Higher Education and Beyond

In the evolving landscape of American media and education, PragerU stands out as a well-funded propaganda machine disguised as an educational institution. Despite the name, Prager University is not a university. It does not grant degrees, offer accredited courses, or submit to academic oversight. Instead, it produces short, emotionally charged videos designed to reshape young minds around a rigid conservative ideology—an ideology increasingly aligned with Christian nationalism, market fundamentalism, and historical denialism.

Founded in 2009 by talk radio host Dennis Prager, PragerU emerged during the rise of social media and deepening political polarization. The timing was ideal. With traditional civics education struggling and digital content consumption rising, PragerU began churning out five-minute videos purporting to teach the "real truth" about history, race, gender, economics, and science. These slickly produced segments claim to correct misinformation, but in reality they deliver a narrow worldview fueled by grievance, nostalgia, and moral panic.

PragerU content routinely distorts established historical and scientific knowledge. It reframes American slavery as a common global occurrence, rather than as a foundational atrocity that has shaped U.S. legal and economic systems to this day. It minimizes climate change, portraying it as exaggerated fearmongering driven by radical environmentalists, even as the scientific consensus grows increasingly dire. And it routinely dismisses systemic racism, patriarchy, and wealth inequality as myths invented by the political left to divide Americans.

This style of storytelling directly contradicts the evidence-based approaches found in the work of sociologist James Loewen and historian Howard Zinn. Loewen’s Lies My Teacher Told Me exposed how mainstream K–12 textbooks sanitize U.S. history by ignoring racism, class struggle, and colonialism. Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States took it further, reframing the American narrative through the voices of the marginalized—the enslaved, the working class, women, and the indigenous. While Loewen and Zinn sought to challenge students to think critically and question power, PragerU does the opposite. It seeks to reassure students that the status quo is righteous and that questioning it is dangerous.

PragerU’s rise also coincides with real, deeply rooted problems in American education. There are serious and measurable deficiencies in literacy, numeracy, and critical thinking among U.S. students and even adults. These educational gaps leave many people vulnerable to simplistic narratives and emotionally charged misinformation. PragerU does not aim to fill those gaps with rigorous content; it exploits them. Its materials demand little from viewers beyond ideological alignment. The videos offer no footnotes, no peer-reviewed sources, and no intellectual challenge—just certainty delivered with polish.

And yet, increasingly, these materials are being welcomed into public school classrooms. In states like Florida and Oklahoma, conservative lawmakers and school officials have approved or endorsed PragerU content as part of the curriculum. This insertion of ideologically driven material into state-sanctioned education is not just alarming—it’s part of a broader attempt to reshape how young people see their country and their place in it.

The broader culture war that PragerU is part of is not simply about liberal versus conservative. It’s about whether education should cultivate independent thinking and historical awareness—or obedient loyalty to a sanitized narrative. PragerU paints itself as a corrective to “leftist indoctrination,” but what it offers is another form of indoctrination: one that demands allegiance to a version of America that never existed, where racism was a glitch, climate change is hysteria, and capitalism is above critique.

Its media tactics are savvy. PragerU’s videos are short, colorful, and emotionally potent—perfectly crafted for young viewers raised on TikTok and YouTube. While teachers fight to hold students’ attention with limited resources, PragerU offers a packaged worldview that feels easy and affirming. But this ease comes at the cost of intellectual development. True learning requires struggle, contradiction, and evidence—not comforting stories that confirm one’s existing biases.

What’s missing from PragerU’s content is precisely what makes education meaningful: complexity, context, and the capacity to think beyond slogans. When students read Lies My Teacher Told Me or A People’s History, they may feel discomfort, but they also grow. They learn that history is not a patriotic myth but a contested and dynamic struggle over meaning and power.

To respond to PragerU’s growing reach, educators and the public must take the real problems in education seriously. Media literacy, civic education, and historical thinking should be reinforced, not removed. Students must be equipped not just with facts, but with the tools to evaluate competing narratives and sources of information. Schools and universities must resist pressure to adopt content that fails basic tests of intellectual honesty and academic rigor.

PragerU is not simply another voice in a pluralistic conversation. It is part of a movement to reduce education to ideological messaging. It thrives on a public that has been failed by underfunded schools, fractured media, and growing economic insecurity. But recognizing this reality does not mean surrendering to it.

If the goal is to prepare young people to navigate a complex world, we must choose truth over comfort, questioning over certainty, and education over indoctrination.

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For more investigations into education and media, follow the Higher Education Inquirer.

The Digital Dark Ages

In this so-called Age of Information, we find ourselves plunged into a paradoxical darkness—a time when myth increasingly triumphs over truth, and justice is routinely deformed or deferred. At The Higher Education Inquirer, we call it the Digital Dark Ages.

Despite the unprecedented access to data and connectivity, we’re witnessing a decay in critical thought, a rise in disinformation, and the erosion of institutions once thought to be champions of intellectual rigor. Higher education, far from being immune, is now entangled in this digital storm—none more so than in the rise of robocolleges and the assault on public universities themselves.

The Fog of Myth

The myths of the Digital Dark Ages come packaged as innovation and access. Online education is heralded as the great equalizer—a tool to democratize knowledge and reach underserved students. But as the dust settles, a darker truth emerges: many of these online programs are not centers of enlightenment, but factories of debt and disillusionment. Myth has become a business model.

The fantasy of upward mobility through a flexible online degree masks a grim reality. The students—often working-class professionals juggling jobs and families—become robostudents, herded through algorithmic coursework with minimal human interaction. The faculty, increasingly adjunct or contract-based, become roboworkers, ghosting in and out of online discussion boards, often managing hundreds of students with little support. And behind it all stands the robocollege—a machine optimized not for education, but for profit.

The Rise of Robocolleges

The rapid growth of online-only education has introduced a new breed of institutions: for-profit, non-profit, secular, and religious, all sharing a similar DNA. Among the most prominent are Southern New Hampshire University, Grand Canyon University, Liberty University Online, University of Maryland Global Campus, Purdue University Global, Walden University, Capella University, Colorado Tech, and the rebranded former for-profits now operating under public university names, like University of Phoenix and University of Arizona Global Campus.

These robocolleges promise convenience and career readiness. In practice, they churn out thousands of credentials in fields like education, healthcare, business, and public administration—often leaving behind hundreds of billions of dollars in student loan debt.

The Robocollege Model is defined by:

• Automation Over Education

• Aggressive Marketing and Recruitment

• High Tuition with Low Return

• Shallow Curricula and Limited Academic Support

• Poor Job Placement and Overburdened Students

These institutions optimize for profit and political protection, not pedagogy. Many align themselves with right-wing agendas, blending Christian nationalism with capitalist pragmatism, while marketing themselves as the moral antidote to “woke” education.

Trump’s War on Higher Ed and DEI

Former President Donald Trump didn’t just attack political rivals—he waged an ideological war against higher education itself. Under his administration and continuing through his influence, the right has cast universities as hotbeds of liberal indoctrination, cultural decay, and bureaucratic excess. Public universities and their faculties have been relentlessly vilified as enemies of “real America.”

Central to Trump’s campaign was the targeting of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives. Executive orders banned federally funded diversity training, and right-wing media amplified the narrative that DEI was a form of “reverse racism” and leftist brainwashing. That playbook has since been adopted by Republican governors and legislatures across the country, leading to:

• Defunding DEI Offices: Entire departments dedicated to equity have been dismantled in states like Florida and Texas.

• Censorship of Curriculum: Academic freedom is under siege as laws restrict the teaching of race, gender, and American history.

• Chilling Effects on Faculty: Scholars of color, queer faculty, and those doing critical theory face retaliation, termination, or self-censorship.

• Hostile Campus Environments: Students in marginalized groups are increasingly isolated, unsupported, and surveilled.

This culture war is not simply rhetorical—it’s institutional. It weakens public confidence in higher education, strips protections for vulnerable communities, and drives talent out of teaching and research. It also feeds directly into the robocollege model, which offers a sanitized, uncritical, and commodified version of education to replace the messy, vital work of civic learning and self-reflection.

The Debt Trap and Student Loan Servitude

Today, more than 45 million Americans are trapped in a cycle of student loan debt servitude, collectively owing over $1.7 trillion. Robocolleges have played a central role in inflating this debt by promising career transformation and delivering questionable outcomes.

Debt has become a silent form of social control—disabling an entire generation’s ability to invest, build, or dissent.

• Delayed Life Milestones

• Psychological Toll

• Stalled Economic Mobility

This is not just a personal burden—it is the product of decades of deregulation, privatization, and a bipartisan consensus that treats education as a private good rather than a public right.

The Dismantling of the U.S. Department of Education

Over time, and especially under Trump-aligned officials like Betsy DeVos, the U.S. Department of Education has been hollowed out, repurposed to protect predatory institutions rather than students. Key actions include:

• Rolling Back Protections for borrowers defrauded by for-profit colleges.

• Weakening Oversight of accreditation and accountability metrics.

• Empowering Loan Servicers to act with impunity.

• Undermining Public Education in favor of vouchers, charters, and online alternatives.

The result? Robocolleges and their corporate allies are given free rein to exploit. Students are caught in the machinery. And the very institution charged with protecting educational integrity has been turned into a clearinghouse for deregulated profiteering.

Reclaiming the Idea of Higher Education

This is where we are: in a Digital Dark Age where myths drive markets, and education has become a shell of its democratic promise. But all is not lost.

Resistance lives—in underfunded community colleges, independent media, academic unions, student debt collectives, and grassroots movements that refuse to accept the commodification of learning.

What’s needed now is not another tech “solution” or rebranding campaign. We need a recommitment to education as a public good. That means:

• Rebuilding and funding public universities

• Protecting academic freedom and DEI efforts

• Canceling student debt and regulating private actors

• Restoring the Department of Education as a tool for justice

• Rethinking accreditation, equity, and access through a democratic lens

Because if we do not act now—if we do not call the Digital Dark Ages by name—we may soon forget what truth, justice, and education ever meant.

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Trump is Using Jews, Not Protecting Us (Hank Kalet, Channel Surfing)

His Executive Order on Antisemitism is a Threat to Muslims and Palestinians on Campuses and an Attack on the First Amendment

Antisemitism exists. It has a long and painful history that has embedded fear in our DNA as Jews, a fear that grows when incidents occur, like the one in Australia recently.

Police in New South Wales state, which includes Sydney, said on Wednesday they had found explosives in a caravan, or trailer, that could have created a blast wave of 40 metres (130 feet).

There was some indication the explosives might be used in an antisemitic attack that could have caused mass casualties, police said.

There also was an apparently coordinated set of “graffiti attacks” on Jewish sites that have caused the Australian Jewish community to increase security. Similar security efforts are being ramped up by Jewish groups in Europe as threats of antisemitic acts and the growth of the Far Right stoke fears.

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There have been reports of violent and deadly incidents throughout Europe, as well, with direct attacks on synagogues and other Jewish institutions. And there are leaders like Viktor Orhan in Hungary and political parties like Alternative for Germany who use antisemitic language and tropes, though often sanitized, amid their more targeted attacks on Muslim immigrants.

Syndicate or Reuse

Books by Hank Kalet

The United States is not immune to antisemitism, of course, but American Jews seem unable to focus on the real threats. Rather than keep our eyes trained on an ascendant right wing — including many of the people in President Donald Trump’s immediate circle, including the president himself — much of the Jewish community is focused on Israel and seems intent on conflating criticism of Israel, its war on Gaza, and the occupation with actual systemic anti-Jewish action.

This is the context for Wednesday’s executive order on “combatting antisemitism,” which targets campus protests and continues a Conservative/Republican push to peel Jews away from teh Democratic Party.

The order, as reported by The Washington Post, “is directed at universities where pro-Palestinian protests broke out last year,” and “threatens to revoke student visas of foreign students who participated in pro-Palestinian protests.”

Supporters of the order argue that these protests were antisemitic. They point to some uncomfortable speech — the equation of Israel with the Nazis, for instance — as proof, and then conflate sloganeering and assembly with physical harassment. Jewish students and faculty, the argument goes, were made uncomfortable by the protests and encampments and felt unsafe. That sense of fear, they say, proves that the protests were designed to harass, even if there was no direct harassment. It is a circular argument, but one endorsed by much of the American political establishment and leading Jewish organizations


Marc H. Ellis addresses the underlying issues with these arguments in his 2009 book Judaism Does Not Equal Israel.1 He describes what I’ll call a “triumphalist Judaism” that mixes Holocaust victimhood with Exodus (the novel) power, constructed in “the aftermath of the great Israeli triumph in the 1967 Arab-Israeli war” (6). That narrative posits several myths: that Palestine was empty and underutilized and had to be redeemed, that the “Arabs” were hostile to Jews as Jews, and that the state that was founded and that still exists remains a democratic outpost in a hostile world. This triumphalism, however, was also tied to our very real history as a persecuted minority. “Jews had once been weak and helpless,” he writes, but that was no longer the case. Yet, “our theology was telling us we were still. The fact was just the opposite. We had become empowered” and were acting as a regional power (59).

The current power dynamics in Israel/Palestine and the actual history — the forced removal of Palestinians from what is now the state and the continued usurpation of land — are treated as though they are benign acts. Israel — Jews — has become the victimizer in the region, acting as a colonial power, an occupying force.

What was “psychological,” he writes, has become “strategic.”

“If we owned up to our newfound power, we would have to be accountable for and to it. We would have to relinquish the Holocaust as the backdrop to everything Jewish.”

So Oct. 7 and the ensuing war play out as if they were new and shocking rather than as another battle — the deadliest and most traumatic, to be sure — in a decades-long rebellion by Palestinians against suppress and control by Israel.

The argument is based on an underlying anti-Muslim/anti-Arab bias that mirrors the hate and discrimination that Jews have faced across our history. It is evident in the language we (Americans and Jews) use consistently to refer to Arabs, Muslims, Palestine, and Israel. Arabs and Muslims continued to be seen as terrorists, even as the “not all” modifier is added.

Deena R. Hurwitz and Walther H. White Jr., in an article at the American Bar Association website, cite authors Sahar Aziz and John Esposito’s May 2024 book, Global Islamophobia and the Rise of Populism, to underscore a “disturbing rise of Islamophobia worldwide.”

Blaming Muslim minorities for economic, political, and social problems is an increasingly common rhetorical strategy for politicians in countries globally. A narrative of the “threatening Muslim invader” is prevalent, regardless of whether the targets of such rhetoric are born citizens or new arrivals.

Trump, for instance, mixes Islamophobic and xenophobic language as he calls for closing the borders. At the same time, he and his conservative allies rely on both anti- and philosemitic imagery when talking with and about Jews.

“In the United States, Europe, and India, Islamophobic rhetoric is essentially normalized,” Hurwitz and White write.

The use of this rhetoric reduces the history and diversity within the Muslim and Arab communities (and within the Jewish community) to “a set of stereotyped characteristics most often reducible to themes of violence, civilizational subversion, and fundamental otherness.”

Anti-Palestinian racism silences, excludes, erases, stereotypes, defames, and dehumanizes Palestinians. This is used to deny and justify violence against Palestinians and fails to acknowledge Palestinians as Indigenous people with a collective identity while erasing their human rights and equal dignity and worth.

Trump’s executive order builds on this structure of anti-Muslim/anti-Arab thought, while also endorsing stereotypes of Jews as a model minority in need of special protection — even as he dismantles what he calls the “DEI regime.” Pitting Jewish and Muslim communities against each other creates hierarchies among aggrieved groups, which the right can then use to abrogate our rights of speech, assembly, and petition. It’s also a solution that is out of proportion to the problem.

It creates a threat to international students (mostly Muslim) based purely on their protected speech and assembly, while doing nothing to improve the actual safety of Jewish students. Remember, we already have strong protections in most jurisdictions; prohibiting speech does nothing to address this.

Alex Morey of the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, a group that defends speech and academic freedom on campus and that has usually been allied with more conservative groups, describes what I’ll call an existential threat. She told the Forward that the order’s language might push universities to crack down on protest, because it functions as an implied threat — to funding and to visas.

Morey said that her organization was already fielding frantic queries from international students at American universities who are worried about being caught in a legal dragnet.

“These are not students that got arrested at a protest or vandalized a building, these are students who just went out and protested,” she said. “What we don’t want to see is schools saying, ‘Hey, Students for Justice in Palestine, I’m going to need a list of everyone in that club and we’re going to comb it for foreign students.’”

What we are talking about is the loss of immigration status and potential deportation as retribution for protest. It is a direct attack on the 14th Amendment’s equal rights clause, which provides “any person within (the United States) the equal protection of the laws,” including the First Amendment’s five basic freedoms.

The order brings together several of Trump’s favorite targets — higher education, Muslims, immigrants and protesters — and is part of a broader effort to undermine the academic freedom and speech rights of faculty and students in higher education. Trump is a wannabe autocrat. He sees these groups as a threat to his control. While fighting antisemitism is the ostensible reason for the order, the larger targets are our democratic institutions.

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College Mania!, College Meltdown, and the other "C" Words

What are we seeing in US higher education and American society today?  Lower college enrollments (for some colleges), high student loan debt (for some consumers) and upward mobility and increasing wealth for others. Many of us hope to be the fortunate ones, through hard work and persistence.

Culture and society (including myths, marketing and advertising, and media) tell folks that higher education is essential and elite education is necessary for upward social mobility. Others see higher education, especially borrowing money to go to school, as a road to nowhere: of untold debt and unhappiness. What people are seeing would seem to be confusing, but it shouldn't be if we understand our system and how it works.  

 

Capitalism (also known as neoliberalism) is the underlying program or structure that guides behavior in the US. We are immersed in it. It also guides other values that we may hold about family, religion, government, and the economy. Under this system, the differences between the rich and poor have been increasing for more than a half century and life expectancy and fertility rates are stagnant.

Consumers are bombarded with stories that reflect how we should perceive higher education. The stories that we see and hear may vary and may appear contradictory if we are willing to look at all sides. Some of the stories are myths, others are downright lies. Targeted marketing means that we may not get the same messages as others. 

Class is how the program of capitalism works, with elites at the top, small business owners and managers in the middle, and workers who do the labor necessary to keep society running.  These distinctions may be small in some places and enormous in others, and there may even be overlap in wealth and income.  Social mobility is possible, but in the US social mobility is stagnant for many non-immigrants. Workers are sometimes appreciated but often unappreciated and even scapegoated. 

Communities are diverse and cut across class boundaries and even geography. Groups seen as homogeneous are rarely that. And stereotypes are used (and misused) as a short hand for understanding other people or even ourselves. 

Civics is a formal understanding how the program/system works and typically how to be a good citizen. The idea of what makes a good citizen varies. Civics can be used as a tool of social control or a tool of reform and innovation. 

Conflict consists of opposing thoughts and actions. It can exist inside of us as well as outside, causing cognitive dissonance for those who are mindful. Some degree of conflict is necessary for society to be healthy. Too much conflict can destroy the fabric of society. 

Questioning the Higher Education Establishment

"So that's how it is," sighed Yakov. "Behind the world lies another world." Bernard Malamud

The Higher Education Inquirer has published a number of articles about how US higher education works and the institutions, organizations, and individuals it serves. 

We have written about US higher education in a number of ways, discussing the history, economics, and underlying ideologies (e.g. neoliberalism, white supremacy) and theories making it what it is--an industry that reinforces a larger (and environmentally unsustainable) economic system and an industry that produces too many unneeded credentials--and soul crushing student loan debt. 

We have listed the myths that US higher education perpetuates and the methods it uses to disseminate them. We have examined a number of higher education institutions and their categories (including university hospitals, state universities, private colleges, community colleges, and online robocolleges). We have investigated several businesses associated with higher education, some nefarious, many profit driven, and a few (like TuitionFit and College Viability App) driven by integrity and values. And we have followed the struggle of labor and consumers. HEI has even created an outline for a People's History of US Higher Education.

But we haven't examined higher education as part of the establishment. Like the establishment that students of the 1960s talked about as something not to trust. The trustees, endowment managers, foundation presidents, accreditors, bankers, bond raters, CEOs and CFOs who make the decisions that affect how higher ed operates and who at the same time work to make consumers, workers, and activists invisible. 

To say we cannot trust US higher education administrators and business leaders may sound passe, or something that only extremists of the Left or Right might say, but it isn't, and more folks are seeing that. 

Examining US higher education needs to be assessed more deeply (like Craig Steven Wilder, Davarian Baldwin, and Gary Roth have done) and more comprehensively (like Marc Bousquet), and it needs to be explained to the People. It's something few have endeavored, because it isn't profitable, not even for tenure in some cases. 

Without our own sustainable business model, the Higher Education Inquirer will continue writing (and prompt others to write) stories significant to workers and consumers, the folks who deserve to be enlightened and who deserve to tell their stories. 

And as long as we can, the Higher Education Inquirer will ask the Establishment for answers that only they know, something few others are willing to do. 

Why the Higher Education Inquirer Continues to Gain Popularity

The Higher Education Inquirer (HEI) continues to grow, with no revenues, no advertising, and no SEO help. And for good reason. HEI fills a niche for student/consumers and workers and their allies. It provides valuable information about how the US higher education system works and what folks can do to navigate that system. 

We cover layoffs and union organizing and strikes in higher education, and we expose predators with some degree of risk-risk that other outlets often won't take. We take a stand on holding big business accountable and we side with struggling student debtors and their families. We question and interrogate higher ducation technology and credentials.  And we dispel myths, disinformation, and hype. 

We research documents of all sorts, including information from the US Department of Education, Securities and Exchange Commission, Department of Veterans Affairs, Department of Defense, Department of Labor, and Federal Election Commission. 

The Higher Education Inquirer provides trustworthy information and expert opinions and analysis. Our list of authors is diverse and impressive, for many reasons. HEI treats our readers with respect. It gives students and workers a voice, accepting information and evidence from whistleblowers. And it allows for comments (including anonymous comments), comments that we value. 

When others do accept our research, we appreciate it. HEI has been a background source for the NY Times, Bloomberg, Chronicle of Higher Education, ProPublica, Forbes, Military Times, the American Prospect, and several other outlets. We strive to be ahead of the learned herd.