The Right-Wing Roots of EdTech

The modern EdTech industry is often portrayed as a neutral, innovative force, but its origins are deeply political. Its growth has been fueled by a fusion of neoliberal economics, right-wing techno-utopianism, patriarchy, and classism, reinforced by racialized inequality. One of the key intellectual architects of this vision was George Gilder, a conservative supply-side evangelist whose work glorified technology and markets as liberating forces. His influence helped pave the way for the “Gilder Effect”: a reshaping of education into a market where technology, finance, and ideology collide, often at the expense of marginalized students and workers.

The for-profit college boom provides the clearest demonstration of how the Gilder Effect operates. John Sperling’s University of Phoenix, later run by executives like Todd Nelson, was engineered as a credential factory, funded by federal student aid and Wall Street. Its model was then exported across the sector, including Risepoint (formerly Academic Partnerships), a company that sold universities on revenue-sharing deals for online programs. These ventures disproportionately targeted working-class women, single mothers, military veterans, and Black and Latino students. The model was not accidental—it was designed to exploit populations with the least generational wealth and the most limited alternatives. Here, patriarchy, classism, and racism intersected: students from marginalized backgrounds were marketed promises of upward mobility but instead left with debt, unstable credentials, and limited job prospects.

Clayton Christensen and Michael Horn of Harvard Business School popularized the concept of “disruption,” providing a respectable academic justification for dismantling public higher education. Their theory of disruptive innovation framed traditional universities as outdated and made way for venture-capital-backed intermediaries. Yet this rhetoric concealed a brutal truth: disruption worked not by empowering the disadvantaged but by extracting value from them, often reinforcing existing inequalities of race, gender, and class.

The rise and collapse of 2U shows how this ideology plays out. Founded in 2008, 2U promised to bring elite universities online, selling the dream of access to graduate degrees for working professionals. Its “flywheel effect” growth strategy relied on massive enrollment expansion and unsustainable spending. Despite raising billions, the company never turned a profit. Its high-profile acquisition of edX from Harvard and MIT only deepened its financial instability. When 2U filed for bankruptcy, it was not simply a corporate failure—it was a symptom of an entire system built on hype and dispossession.

2U also became notorious for its workplace practices. In 2015, it faced a pregnancy discrimination lawsuit after firing an enrollment director who disclosed her pregnancy. Women workers, especially mothers, were treated as expendable, a reflection of patriarchal corporate norms. Meanwhile, many front-line employees—disproportionately women and people of color—faced surveillance, low wages, and impossible sales quotas. Here the intersections of race, gender, and class were not incidental but central to the business model. The company extracted labor from marginalized workers while selling an educational dream to marginalized students, creating a cycle of exploitation at both ends of the pipeline.

Financialization extended these dynamics. Lenders like Sallie Mae and Navient, and servicers like Maximus, turned students into streams of revenue, with Student Loan Asset-Backed Securities (SLABS) trading debt obligations on Wall Street. Universities, including Purdue Global and University of Arizona Global, rebranded failing for-profits as “public” ventures, but their revenue-driven practices remained intact. These arrangements consistently offloaded risk onto working-class students, especially women and students of color, while enriching executives and investors.

The Gilder Effect, then, is not just about technology or efficiency. It is about reshaping higher education into a site of extraction, where the burdens of debt and labor fall hardest on those already disadvantaged by patriarchy, classism, and racism. Intersectionality reveals what the industry’s boosters obscure: EdTech has not democratized education but has deepened inequality. The failure of 2U and the persistence of predatory for-profit models are not accidents—they are the logical outcome of an ideological project rooted in conservative economics and systemic oppression.

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Sources

• EdSurge. “What a New Strategy at 2U Means for the Future of Online Higher Education.” August 5, 2022. https://www.edsurge.com/news/2022-08-05-what-a-new-strategy-at-2u-means-for-the-future-of-online-higher-education

• Newswire. “2U Faces Lawsuit for Pregnancy Discrimination.” June 2015. https://www.newswire.com/news/2u-faces-lawsuit-for-pregnancy-discrimination

• Christensen, Clayton M. and Michael B. Horn. Disrupting Class. McGraw-Hill, 2008.

• McMillan Cottom, Tressie. Lower Ed: The Troubling Rise of For-Profit Colleges in the New Economy. The New Press, 2017.

• Cellini, Stephanie Riegg. “For-Profit Higher Education: An Assessment of Costs and Benefits.” National Bureau of Economic Research, 2012.

• Rosenthal, Elisabeth. An American Sickness. Penguin, 2017.

Time to Shut Off the Tap: The Case for Ending DoD Tuition Assistance to Predatory Colleges

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 Evidence Is Overwhelming

The most damning proof of institutional complicity remains publicly available. In GAO Report GAO-14-855, published in 2014, the Government Accountability Office detailed the deep flaws in DoD’s oversight of its Tuition Assistance program. The report highlighted inconsistent evaluations, unqualified contractor reviewers, vague standards, and incomplete data collection. The DoD had spent hundreds of millions of taxpayer dollars on schools without ensuring quality or protecting students. In response, DoD temporarily halted its school evaluations—then quietly resumed business as usual.

PwC audits from 2015 and 2018 confirmed widespread noncompliance with DoD’s Memorandum of Understanding (MOU). Schools violated marketing guidelines, offered misleading transfer information, and failed to provide basic academic counseling. Few were sanctioned, and even fewer were removed from eligibility lists.

Gatehouse Strategies, in its 2022 report, reinforced these conclusions. It warned of “a lack of consistent enforcement mechanisms,” and found that even institutions under investigation continued to receive DoD TA funding. The system appeared designed not to punish misconduct, but to tolerate and obscure it.

The Cost of Inaction

Meanwhile, service members seeking education are left exposed. Many receive low-value credentials, accumulate debt, and waste their limited benefits at schools that offer little academic rigor and even less career mobility. When those credits don’t transfer—or worse, when degrees are rejected by employers—the burden falls squarely on the individual.

Institutions like American Public University System, University of Phoenix, Colorado Technical University, DeVry, and Purdue Global have collected tens of millions in DoD TA funding. Some are under state or federal investigation. Others have quietly changed ownership or rebranded. But the underlying model—targeting military students with high-volume, low-quality online programs—remains largely intact.

We Don’t Need Another Report

The time for reflection is over. The data from GAO, PwC, Gatehouse, and from our own FOIA investigations are clear. What remains is the political will to act.

The Department of Defense should immediately:

– Revoke TA eligibility for schools with documented abuse, federal scrutiny, or repeat MOU violations.
– Release the suppressed list of the worst-performing colleges, as identified under Executive Order 13607.
– Mandate transparent outcome reporting—including transferability, job placement, and default rates—for every school in the TA program.
– Sever ties with lobbyist conduits like CCME that have enabled predatory behavior for decades.

This is not just a matter of bureaucratic reform—it is about justice. For the servicemembers who were deceived. For the families who sacrificed. For the taxpayers who unknowingly foot the bill for failure.

The Higher Education Inquirer will not stop pushing for those names, those documents, and that accountability. Behind every redaction is a veteran who trusted the system—and got scammed. Behind every delay is another student targeted by the same exploitative machinery. Behind every refusal to act is a government more loyal to profit than to people.

Related Reading
GAO-14-855: DoD Education Benefits Oversight Lacking
Military Times (2018): DoD review finds 0% of schools following TA rules
Military Times (2019): Schools are struggling to meet TA rules, but DoD isn’t punishing them. Here’s why.

Higher Learning Commission Passes the Buck on Ambow-CSU Deal

The Higher Learning Commission (HLC), the regional accreditor for Colorado State University (CSU), has refused to comment on whether it is investigating or overseeing any partnership between CSU and Ambow Education, a Chinese-American education technology company with a record of volatility, opacity, and questionable business practices.

In an email to the Higher Education Inquirer on July 28, HLC Public Information Officer Laura Janota wrote, “You would need to check with the institution regarding any specifics about its agreement with Ambow Education.” While acknowledging that HLC evaluates an institution’s offerings and operations as part of its ongoing accreditation relationship, Janota pointed to generic contractual guidance on the HLC website rather than offering any assurance that the accreditor is scrutinizing a deal involving Ambow—a company that has raised alarms due to its foray into the U.S. higher ed sector via its HybriU platform.

This type of response is not unusual for HLC, which has come under criticism for its lack of accountability and its longstanding pattern of accrediting both elite universities and subprime colleges.

As previously reported by the Higher Education Inquirer:

"Institutional accreditation is no sign of quality. Worse yet, accreditation by organizations such as the Middle States Association, Western Association of Schools and Colleges, and the Higher Learning Commission is used by subprime colleges to lend legitimacy to their predatory, low-standard operations."

According to the U.S. Department of Education, HLC currently accredits 946 Title IV-eligible institutions, opening the doors for them to collectively receive nearly $40 billion in federal student aid annually—along with billions more from the Department of Defense and Department of Veterans Affairs.

HLC accredits prestigious institutions such as the University of Chicago, University of Michigan, and Notre Dame. But it also accredits notorious subprime schools including Colorado Technical University, DeVry University, University of Phoenix, Walden University, National American University, and Purdue University Global. On the three pillars of regional accreditation—compliance, quality assurance, and quality improvement—HLC has consistently failed when it comes to oversight of predatory institutions.

Even as far back as 2000, critics within academia called out the ethical rot. The American Association of University Professors protested HLC’s support of for-profit schools. That same year, then-AAUP General Secretary Mary A. Burgan remarked:

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

HLC’s financial structure reinforces this compromised position: it is funded by the institutions it accredits. Over the last 30 years, HLC has collected millions of dollars in dues from some of the nation’s most predatory schools. This funding model mirrors the conflicts of interest that plagued credit rating agencies during the 2008 financial crisis—a comparison made explicitly by economists David Deming and David Figlio in a 2016 report:

“Accreditors—who are paid by the institutions themselves—appear to be ineffectual at best, much like the role of credit rating agencies during the recent financial crisis.”

Despite public attention, federal oversight of accreditors remains weak. Under the Trump-DeVos administration, regulatory protections were rolled back significantly. A 2023 internal investigation revealed that the U.S. Department of Education was not adequately monitoring accreditors, confirming what many higher education watchdogs already knew: that no one is truly watching the accreditors.

The Ambow-CSU situation underscores this systemic failure. Rather than acting as an independent reviewer, HLC has chosen to defer responsibility to the very institution it is tasked with overseeing. This is not just a case of passing the buck; it's another example of accreditors shielding themselves from accountability while public institutions are left to make private deals with for-profit entities—unchecked, unregulated, and largely unreported.

Sources:

• Email correspondence from Laura Janota, Higher Learning Commission, July 28, 2025

• https://www.hlcommission.org/institution/1046/

• Higher Education Inquirer, September 24, 2018: Higher Learning Commission: Accreditation Is No Sign of Quality

• David Deming and David Figlio, Accountability in US Education: Applying Lessons from K–12 Experience to Higher Education (2016)

• U.S. Department of Education accreditation database

• Public statements from AAUP and archived remarks by Mary A. Burgan

When American Greed is the Norm

Greed is no longer a sin in America—it’s a system. It’s a curriculum. It’s a badge of success. In the American higher education marketplace, greed is not the exception. It’s the norm.

We see it in the bloated salaries of university presidents who deliver austerity to everyone but themselves. We see it in billion-dollar endowments hoarded like dragon’s gold while students drown in debt. We see it in the metastasizing ranks of middlemen—consultants, online program managers, enrollment optimization firms—who profit off the dreams and desperation of working-class families.

But greed in American higher education is more than a few bad actors or golden parachutes. It is institutionalized, normalized, and weaponized.

The Student as Customer, the Campus as Marketplace

It began with the rebranding of education as a “return on investment,” a transaction rather than a transformation. The purpose of college was no longer to liberate the mind but to monetize the degree.

By the 1990s, under bipartisan neoliberal consensus, public colleges were defunded and forced to adopt the private sector’s logic: cut costs, raise prices, sell more. Tuition rose. Debt exploded. The ranks of administrators swelled while faculty were downsized and adjunctified. The market had spoken.

But even that wasn’t enough. A generation of edu-preneurs emerged—Silicon Valley-funded disruptors, for-profit college chains, and online program managers—who turned learning into a scalable commodity. Robocolleges like Southern New Hampshire University, Purdue Global, and the University of Phoenix began operating more like tech platforms than institutions of thought.

The result? Diploma mills at the front end and collection agencies at the back.

Greed in the Name of God and Country

Greed doesn’t always look like Wall Street. Sometimes it wears the face of morality. Religious colleges, some of them under the protection of nonprofit status, have become breeding grounds for political operatives and ideological grooming—while raking in millions through taxpayer-funded financial aid.

Liberty University, Grand Canyon University, and a host of lesser-known Bible colleges operate under a warped theology of prosperity, turning salvation into a subscription plan. Meanwhile, they push anti-democratic ideologies and funnel money toward political causes far removed from the mission of education.

Accreditation as a Shell Game

The accreditors—the supposed watchdogs of educational quality—have been largely asleep at the wheel or complicit. When greed is the norm, accountability is an inconvenience. For-profit schools regularly reinvent themselves as nonprofits. Online program managers operate in regulatory gray zones. Mergers and acquisitions disguise collapse as growth.

Accreditation agencies rubber-stamp it all, as long as the paperwork is tidy and the lobbyists are well-compensated.

Debt as Discipline

More than 43 million Americans carry federal student loan debt. Many will never escape it. This debt is not just financial—it’s ideological. It keeps the workforce compliant. It disciplines dissent. It renders critical thought a luxury.

And those who push for debt relief? They are met with moral lectures about personal responsibility—from the same lawmakers who handed trillions to banks, defense contractors, and fossil fuel companies.

Silicon Valley's Hungry Mouth

The new frontier of greed is AI. Tech giants like Google, Amazon Web Services, and Meta are embedding themselves deeper into education—not to empower learning, but to extract data, monetize behavior, and deepen surveillance. Every click, every quiz, every attendance record is a monetizable moment.

Universities, starved for funding and afraid of obsolescence, are selling access to students in exchange for access to cloud infrastructure and algorithmic tools they barely understand.

Greed Isn’t Broken—It’s Working as Designed

In this system, who wins? Not students. Not faculty. Not society.

The winners are those who turn knowledge into a commodity, compliance into virtue, and inequality into inevitability. Those who build castles from the bones of public education, then retreat behind walls of donor-backed endowments and think tanks. The winners are few. But they write the rules.

A Different Future Is Possible

If American greed is the norm, then what remains of education’s soul must be found in the margins—in the community college professor working three jobs. In the librarian defending open access. In the adjunct organizing a union. In the students refusing to be pawns in someone else’s game.

The antidote to greed is not charity—it’s solidarity.

Until justice is funded as well as football. Until learning is valued more than branding. Until access is more than a talking point on a donor brochure—then greed will remain not just a sin, but a system.

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Sources

• U.S. Department of Education, National Center for Education Statistics

• The Century Foundation, “The OPM Industry: Profits Over Students” (2023)

• Chronicle of Higher Education, “Administrative Bloat and the Adjunct Crisis”

• IRS Nonprofit Filings, Liberty University and Grand Canyon University

• Debt Collective, “The State of Student Debt” (2025)

• Public records and audits of Title IV institutions, 2022–2024

• Higher Education Inquirer archives

Caltech Settlement Spotlights Critical Need for OPM Transparency and Oversight in Higher Education

A recent Republic Report article by Jeremy Bauer-Wolf outlines the terms of a legal settlement between the California Institute of Technology and students enrolled in its Simplilearn-run cybersecurity bootcamp. The case and its resolution reveal larger systemic risks associated with university partnerships with Online Program Managers (OPMs), particularly those involving aggressive marketing, limited academic oversight, and questionable student outcomes.

The Caltech-Simplilearn bootcamp, launched under Caltech’s Center for Technology and Management Education, was marketed heavily using the university's brand. Students enrolled in the program alleged that Caltech misrepresented its level of involvement. The program was, in fact, designed and operated by Simplilearn, a for-profit OPM controlled by Blackstone and backed by GSV Ventures. The university seal and branding were used extensively in recruitment materials, leading some students to believe they were enrolling in a Caltech-created and Caltech-taught program. The class-action lawsuit contended that the program failed to live up to the expectations created by this branding.

As part of the settlement, Caltech and Simplilearn agreed to provide refunds to more than 260 students, totaling about $400,000. In addition to financial relief, the agreement requires clear disclosures that the bootcamp is “in collaboration with Simplilearn” and mandates that recruiters use Simplilearn email addresses rather than appearing to represent Caltech. The university must also ensure instructors possess verifiable professional credentials, not just certificates from prior bootcamp participation. Caltech is scheduled to wind down the program by the end of November 2025.

The Higher Education Inquirer previously reported in September 2024 that the Caltech-Simplilearn partnership was a case study in what can go wrong with white-labeled OPM programs. Simplilearn, which reported 35–45 percent annual revenue growth, had entered similar arrangements with Purdue, UMass, Brown, and UC San Diego. In many of these cases, the university’s brand was being used to sell pre-packaged courses created and delivered by the OPM. In Reddit forums and independent consumer reviews, former students regularly cited misleading marketing, lack of academic rigor, and poor support services. HEI's reporting raised concerns about the involvement of GSV Ventures, whose investors include high-profile education reformers like Arne Duncan and Michael Horn, as well as the private equity backing of Blackstone.

John Katzman, founder of the Noodle OPM, publicly warned about this model in 2024, saying, “White labeling is done everywhere… Still, I wouldn’t put my university’s name on other peoples’ programs without clear disclosure.” The Caltech case confirms that the reputational risks of such arrangements are real and can result in legal and financial liability.

The broader implications are significant. Since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, universities have increasingly turned to OPMs to expand their online offerings quickly and with limited internal resources. These partnerships often involve tuition-share agreements in which the OPM receives a large percentage of student revenue—sometimes as much as 80 percent. In return, the OPM provides marketing, recruitment, course development, and instructional support. However, as Caltech’s case illustrates, this model can easily sideline university faculty, diminish educational quality, and mislead students.

Policy makers have begun to respond. Minnesota has banned tuition-share arrangements in its public colleges. Ohio now requires OPM disclosure on university websites. A 2023 California state audit found that several public institutions were engaging in misleading marketing through their OPM partners. Yet federal regulations around OPMs remain limited and largely unenforced, despite calls for greater oversight.

The Caltech settlement reinforces the need for strong institutional governance over OPM partnerships. Universities must ensure full transparency in marketing, maintain academic control over curriculum and instruction, and build systems of accountability that protect students from misleading practices. Caltech’s retreat from its bootcamp partnership may serve as a warning to other elite institutions that have outsourced large portions of their online education operations with minimal oversight.

This episode also underscores the importance of investigative journalism in higher education. The Higher Education Inquirer’s early reporting on the Caltech-Simplilearn relationship helped expose a pattern of questionable practices that extend far beyond one institution. With private equity and venture capital deeply embedded in the OPM sector, the risks of commodifying higher education continue to grow.

Sources:
https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2024/09/cal-tech-simplilearn-blackstone-scandal.html
https://www.republicreport.org/2025/caltech-settlement-underscores-need-for-opm-oversight-in-higher-ed/
https://www.govtech.com/education/higher-ed/caltech-settles-lawsuit-over-cybersecurity-boot-camp-marketing
https://newamerica.org/education-policy/edcentral/

Wake Forest and Kaplan: Selling Prestige in a Predatory Credential Market

Wake Forest University, a private institution with a proud 185-year history, has long marketed itself as a place for ethical leadership and elite scholarship. But its recent partnership with Kaplan—an infamous name in for-profit education and test prep—raises serious questions about the erosion of academic integrity and the corporatization of American higher education.

Wake Forest’s online offerings, now delivered in collaboration with Kaplan, are dressed in glowing promotional language. Prospective students are promised access to “a global network of 80,000+ alumni,” “1-on-1 guidance from a dedicated Student Success Manager,” and a curriculum shaped by “a Program Advisory Board of diverse business leaders.” The university assures working professionals that they can “earn a 100% online master’s degree or graduate certificate” on their own terms, with a “streamlined admissions process” and “flexible courses.”

But strip away the buzzwords and what’s left is a degree-granting operation outsourced to a for-profit education company with a controversial legacy. Kaplan, now owned by Graham Holdings (formerly the parent company of The Washington Post), has been at the center of lawsuits, regulatory scrutiny, and allegations of exploitative practices in its higher ed ventures—including its role in managing Purdue Global, formerly Kaplan University. The company has a long history of targeting vulnerable populations—especially working-class adults—with high-cost, low-value credentials that often don’t lead to the promised career outcomes.

So why is Wake Forest—an elite university with a storied reputation—collaborating with Kaplan?

The answer is simple: profit and scale.

In an era when even wealthy private universities are looking to expand their revenue streams, online education has become a lucrative frontier. But building and managing online degree programs in-house requires serious investment, time, and expertise. Enter Kaplan, which provides the infrastructure, marketing, enrollment management, and student support—all in exchange for a share of the revenue.

What does this mean for students?

It means that Wake Forest’s name is now being used to sell online degrees to mid-career professionals under the promise of prestige, convenience, and upward mobility—without the full intellectual, cultural, or communal experience that Wake Forest once symbolized. The degrees may bear the Wake Forest seal, but they are increasingly indistinguishable from the mass-produced credentials churned out by dozens of other universities that have sold access to their brands through partnerships with Online Program Managers (OPMs) like Kaplan, 2U, Wiley, and Coursera.

The “1-on-1 Student Success Manager” may sound supportive, but in practice these positions are often little more than call center roles staffed by Kaplan employees trained to ensure retention and upsell future courses—not to engage in meaningful academic mentorship.

The curriculum may be “developed and led by recognized faculty and industry experts,” but in many cases these are adjunct instructors or contract workers who have limited interaction with students and little say in the structure or pedagogy of the courses. This model contributes to the broader exploitation of contingent academic labor—an issue Wake Forest, like many elite universities, prefers not to discuss.

And the promise of becoming a leader “from anywhere” with a Wake Forest SPS degree? That too should be questioned. These degrees exist in an increasingly saturated credential market where employers are skeptical, return on investment is uncertain, and students often find themselves saddled with debt and disappointment.

If Wake Forest were truly committed to ethical leadership, it would take a hard look at the implications of commodifying its brand through a partnership with a company like Kaplan. Instead, it has chosen to chase market share and tuition revenue at the expense of its academic credibility—and at the risk of misleading students who believe they’re buying into the full Wake Forest experience.

The truth is this: Wake Forest is selling the illusion of prestige, wrapped in a glossy brochure of online convenience and corporate optimism. In reality, it’s another cog in a profit-driven machine that markets higher education as a product rather than a public good. And that’s not transformative change. That’s business as usual in the credential economy.

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)

Public Higher Education is Splitting in Two (Robert Kelchen)

Even though there have been longstanding ideological differences across states, higher education leadership was largely insulated against these differences over the last half-century. Yes, they popped up in meaningful ways on topics such as South African divestment, affirmative action, and antiwar protests, but it was possible for university leaders to move from red states to blue states and vice versa. It helped to share the state’s political leanings, but it was generally not a requirement.

The last month has clearly shown that potential presidents now must pass an ideological litmus test in order to gain the favor of governing boards and state policymakers. Here are three examples:

Santa Ono’s hiring at Florida was rejected by the system board (after being approved by the campus board) due to his previous positions in favor of diversity initiatives and vaccine mandates. He tried to pivot his views, but it was not enough for Republican appointments on the board.Six red states, led by Florida and North Carolina, are seeking to launch a new accreditor to break free from their longtime accreditor (which was the only major institutional accreditor to never have a DEI requirement, although their diversity page is now blank). Florida Governor Ron DeSantis used his press conference to go on a tirade against higher education, but the North Carolina system’s statement was more cautious, focused on academic quality.
The Trump administration’s Justice Department effectively forced out University of Virginia president James Ryan over his alleged noncompliance in removing diversity initiatives from campus. This effort was successful because Virginia’s Republican governor also supported removal and has the ability to push the institution’s governing board to take action.

While there has been a long history of politicians across the ideological spectrum leading universities (such as Mitch Daniels at Purdue, John King at the State University of New York, and Dannel Molloy at Maine), these politicians have generally set aside most of their ideological priors that are not directly related to running an institution of higher education. But now a growing number of states are expecting their campus presidents to be politicians that are perfectly aligned with their values.

There are two clear takeaways from recent events. The first is that college presidents are now political appointments in the same way that a commissioner of education or a state treasurer would be in many states. Many boards will be instructed (or decide by themselves) to only hire people who are ideologically aligned to lead colleges—and to clean house whenever a new governor comes into power. The median tenure of a college president is rapidly declining, and expect that to continue as more leaders get forced out. Notably, by threatening to withhold funding, governors do not even have to wait for the composition of the board to change before forcing a change in leadership. New presidents will respond by requesting higher salaries to account for that risk.

Second, do not expect many prominent college presidents to switch from red states to blue states or vice versa. (It may still happen among community colleges, but even that will be more difficult). The expectations of the positions are rapidly diverging, and potential leaders are going to have to choose where they want to be. Given the politics of higher education employees, blue-state jobs may be seen as more desirable. But these positions often face more financial constraints due to declining enrollments and tight state budgets, in addition to whatever else comes from Washington. Red-state jobs may come with more resources, but they also are likely to come with more strings attached.

It is also worth noting that even vice president and dean positions are likely to face these same two challenges due to presidential transitions and the desire of some states to clean house within higher education. That makes the future of the administrative pipeline even more challenging.

[This article first appeared at the Robert Kelchen blog.]

EducationDynamics: Still Shilling for Subprime Robocolleges

In 2021, The Higher Education Inquirer published an investigative report exposing the operations of EducationDynamics (“EDDY”), a for-profit lead generation and marketing firm with deep ties to some of the most controversial colleges in American higher education. Four years later, that story has not only held up—it demands a deeper and more urgent follow-up.

EDDY now claims that over the past five years, its clients have experienced an average of 47% enrollment growth above industry benchmarks, attributing this success to its “research-driven, continuous optimization process.” But behind that growth lies a troubling blend of aggressive marketing, deceptive lead generation, and exploitative labor practices—practices that appear to have only intensified.

A History of Bait and Switch

EDDY’s core operations remain rooted in multichannel marketing and lead generation for colleges—especially for-profit and formerly for-profit online institutions. These include Purdue University Global (formerly Kaplan University), University of Arizona Global (formerly Ashford University), American Intercontinental University, Colorado Technical Institute, and South University—all institutions with checkered histories of student outcomes, loan defaults, and regulatory scrutiny.

As previously reported by The Higher Education Inquirer, EDDY—originally known as Halyard Education—has been under ethical clouds for more than a decade. The company funneled leads to shuttered schools like Corinthian Colleges, ITT Technical Institute, and Virginia College, all of which collapsed under regulatory and legal pressure for defrauding students.

EDDY has expanded by acquiring other dubious operations. In 2019 and 2020, it bought up assets from Thruline and QuinStreet, the latter of which had been prosecuted by 20 state attorneys general in 2012 for deceiving military veterans through a phony education site, GIBill.com.

At least one source has linked EDDY to Alec Defrawi, a lead generator sued by the Federal Trade Commission in 2016 for job-application bait-and-switch tactics. Defrawi collected data from people seeking jobs, then sold it to education marketers who aggressively pitched them school enrollment instead. While the FTC complaint didn’t name EDDY directly, a public comment on the FTC’s site suggests a relationship between Defrawi and Halyard/EducationDynamics.

The 2025 Workforce Machine: Exploiting the Exploited

New accounts from Glassdoor and Indeed, along with internal conversations with former employees, show that EDDY's call centers in Boca Raton, Florida and Lenexa, Kansas continue to engage in bait-and-switch tactics. People looking for jobs are redirected to enrollment pitches for schools—many of which offer low graduation rates, high debt burdens, and little return on investment.

The call centers are described as toxic, high-pressure environments, where workers are paid $10 an hour, offered no real commission, and are charged up to $225 per day from their commission pool just to keep their jobs. According to workers, “good leads” are reserved for long-timers and favorites, while new and lower-ranked workers are left dialing disconnected numbers or harassing desperate job seekers.

“They want you to do a lot for $10 an hour,” said one former employee. “They’ll micromanage everything, and if you speak up about the shady stuff, you get punished or iced out.”

Former employees describe being instructed to use aliases and different company names to avoid regulatory detection and consumer suspicion. Others say they were explicitly told not to submit job applications that consumers had filled out, so they could be redirected toward school enrollments instead.

The Kansas location appears to mirror many of the Florida call center's tactics. One sales associate in Lenexa noted they were “getting shady and uninterested leads” and claimed that management was fully aware of the source and quality of these leads.

A Rigged System, Disguised as Opportunity

EDDY hides behind slick language and upbeat metrics, claiming to help students “adapt to the changing needs of today.” But the company’s model thrives on a population of vulnerable, low-income Americans—people simply looking for a job—who are rerouted into student loan debt for education they didn’t want or need.

Meanwhile, the people doing this marketing—call center employees—are also trapped. Lured in with promises of stability and advancement, they find a micromanaged workplace with no real raises, little upward mobility, and workplace retaliation for dissent.

The Better Business Bureau (BBB) gives EducationDynamics an A+ rating, which seems absurd given the overwhelming volume of worker testimonies and student complaints. It’s a glaring example of how the education marketing sector continues to operate with minimal oversight, even as its practices echo the discredited tactics of predatory for-profit colleges from the 2000s and 2010s.

The Bigger Picture

The collapse of Corinthian Colleges and ITT Tech was supposed to signal the end of an era. But EducationDynamics proves that the infrastructure of exploitation never disappeared—it simply rebranded, consolidated, and evolved. Today, it masquerades as a data-driven enrollment consultancy helping colleges grow, while quietly fueling the same pipeline of debt and despair for working-class Americans seeking stability.

Colleges desperate for enrollments, workers desperate for jobs, and the education marketing complex that profits from both—that is the dangerous triangle in which EDDY operates.

Final Thoughts

EDDY’s reported 47% enrollment growth comes with a heavy cost: false hopes, student debt, and labor exploitation. As the higher ed crisis deepens and more colleges seek lifelines, it’s imperative that watchdogs, regulators, and journalists remain vigilant about who’s behind the scenes pulling the strings.

EducationDynamics is not just a marketing firm. It is a relic of the for-profit college era—one that never really ended.

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If you've worked for EducationDynamics or were misled by their marketing, the Higher Education Inquirer wants to hear from you. Contact us confidentially at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu.

Consumer Alert: Lead Generators Still Lurking for Bodies

Predatory lead generators are still lurking the internet, looking for their next victims.  These ads continue to sell subprime online degrees from robocolleges like Purdue Global, Colorado Tech, Berkley College, Full Sail, Walden University, and Liberty University Online.  After you provide your name and number, they'll be calling you up.  But these programs may be of questionable value. Some may lead to a lifetime of debt.  Buyer beware.  

This ad and lead generator is originating from TriAd Media Solutions of Nutley, New Jersey.  

Down the rabbit hole...

HEI Investigation: Campus.edu

In a sector under constant strain, Campus.edu is being heralded by some as the future of community college—and by others as a slick repackaging of the troubled for-profit college model. What many don’t realize is that before it became Campus.edu, the company was known as MTI College, a private, for-profit trade school based in Sacramento, California.

Campus.edu rebranded in 2020 under tech entrepreneur Tade Oyerinde, is backed by nearly $100 million in venture capital. Campus now markets itself as a tech-powered alternative to traditional community colleges—and a lifeline for students underserved by conventional higher ed.

The rebranding, however, raises red flags. While Campus.edu pitches a student-first mission with attractive promises—zero-cost tuition, free laptops, elite educators—the model has echoes of the troubled for-profit sector, with privatization, outsourcing, and digital-first delivery taking precedence over public accountability and academic governance.

The Promises: What Campus.edu Offers

Campus.edu markets itself with a clean, six-step path to success. The pitch is aspirational, accessible, and designed to appeal to working-class students, first-generation college-goers, and those shut out of elite institutions. Here’s what the company promises:

1. Straightforward Application – A simple application process, followed by matching with an admissions advisor who helps identify a student's purpose and educational fit.

2. Tech for Those Who Need It – A free laptop and Wi-Fi access for students who lack them, ensuring digital inclusion.

3. Personal Success Coach – Each student is assigned a personal success coach, offering free tutoring, career advising, and 24/7 access to wellness services.

4. Elite Educators – Courses are taught live via Zoom by faculty who also teach at top universities like Stanford and Columbia.

5. Enduring Support – Whether transferring to a four-year college or entering the workforce, Campus promises help with building skills and networks.

6. More Learning, Less Debt – For Pell Grant-eligible students, Campus markets its programs as costing nothing out-of-pocket, with some students completing degrees debt-free.

It’s a compelling narrative—combining social mobility, digital access, and educational prestige into a neat online package.

Behind the Curtain: MTI College and the For-Profit Legacy

Campus.edu did not rise out of nowhere. It emerged from the bones of MTI College, a long-running, accredited for-profit vocational school. MTI offered hands-on training in legal, IT, cosmetology, and health fields—typical offerings in the for-profit world. The purchase and transformation of MTI into Campus.edu allowed Oyerinde to retain accreditation, avoiding the long and uncertain process of seeking approval for a brand-new college.

This kind of maneuver—buying a for-profit and relaunching it under a new brand—is not new. We’ve seen similar strategies with Kaplan (now Purdue Global), Ashford (now the University of Arizona Global Campus), and Grand Canyon University. What makes Campus.edu unique is the degree to which it blends Silicon Valley aesthetics with the structural DNA of a for-profit college.

Missing Data, Big Promises

Campus.edu boasts high engagement and satisfaction, but as of now, no independent data on student completion, debt outcomes, or long-term career impact is publicly available. The company remains in its early stages, with aggressive growth goals and millions in investor backing—but little regulatory scrutiny.

With investors like Sam Altman (OpenAI), Jason Citron (Discord), and Bloomberg Beta, the pressure to scale is intense. But scale can come at the expense of quality, especially when students are promised the moon.

Marketing Meets Memory

Campus.edu is savvy. Its marketing strikes all the right notes: digital equity, economic mobility, mental health, and student empowerment. It presents itself as the antidote to everything wrong with higher education.

But as its past as MTI College shows, branding can obscure history. And as for-profit operators adapt to a new digital age, it’s essential to distinguish innovation from opportunism. Without transparency, regulation, and democratic oversight, models like Campus.edu could replicate the same old exploitation—with better user interfaces.

The stakes are high. For students already at the margins, a false promise can be more damaging than no promise at all.

Mental Health for the Working Class: Who’s Behind the Therapy Boom?

The Affordable Care Act (ACA), commonly known as Obamacare, has significantly expanded access to mental health services in the United States, particularly for working-class individuals and families. The expansion of Medicaid and marketplace plans has made therapy and psychiatric care more accessible. However, the infrastructure supporting this mental health revolution is complex, under-resourced, and increasingly influenced by private equity. As more Americans seek care, questions arise about who is delivering that care—and whether the system prioritizes well-being or profits.

The Workforce Patchwork

The delivery of mental health services today relies on a varied network of professionals. In community clinics, federally qualified health centers, and outpatient networks, the bulk of therapeutic care comes from mid-level clinicians: Licensed Clinical Social Workers (LCSWs), Licensed Professional Counselors (LPCs), and Marriage and Family Therapists (MFTs). These are master's-level professionals who carry substantial educational and clinical training but are frequently underpaid and overworked.

Psychiatric Nurse Practitioners have also filled a critical gap, often handling medication management in lieu of psychiatrists, especially in rural and underserved areas. Meanwhile, case managers and peer support workers—some with minimal formal education—are tasked with providing wraparound services like housing support, job placement, and crisis management.

Psychiatrists and doctoral-level psychologists, though highly trained, are in short supply and are often unwilling to accept Medicaid or ACA plan reimbursements. This leaves many lower-income patients with few options for specialized care.

Enter Private Equity

In recent years, private equity (PE) firms have aggressively moved into the mental health space. Attracted by rising demand for services and relatively stable reimbursement streams from public insurance programs, PE investors have acquired numerous outpatient mental health clinics, telehealth platforms, and addiction treatment centers. Research indicates that PE firms now account for as much as a quarter of practices providing behavioral health services in some states (OHSU, 2024).

While this influx of capital has allowed for rapid expansion, it has also introduced new pressures on the workforce. To maximize returns, many PE-backed firms rely heavily on newly licensed clinicians or even graduate students under supervision. In some cases, providers are pushed into independent contractor roles to reduce labor costs and avoid benefit obligations.

Clinicians report being pressured to increase their patient loads, reduce session times, and adhere to standardized scripts or protocols designed for efficiency, not individualized care. Turnover is high, and burnout is common. A 2023 survey by the American Psychological Association found that over 60% of mental health practitioners reported experiencing symptoms of burnout (Therapy Wisdom, 2024).

The Role of Robocolleges in the Mental Health Pipeline

The rise of online, for-profit, and quasi-public "robocolleges"—such as Walden University, Purdue University Global, the University of Phoenix, Capella University, and others—has significantly shaped the labor pipeline for mental health services. These institutions mass-produce degrees in psychology, counseling, and social work, often catering to nontraditional and working adult students with limited time and financial resources.

Programs are designed for scale and efficiency, not necessarily for rigor or clinical depth. Courses are often asynchronous, adjunct-taught, and heavily standardized. Clinical placements and supervision, vital components of a therapist’s training, are sometimes outsourced or inadequately supported—leaving graduates with inconsistent real-world experience.

These institutions also disproportionately enroll students from lower-income and minority backgrounds, many of whom take on significant debt for degrees that may lead to low-paying, high-stress jobs in underfunded clinics or PE-owned mental health companies.

While robocolleges expand access to credentials, they may also contribute to a deprofessionalized, precarious workforce—one in which therapists are underprepared, underpaid, and overextended. Their graduates often fill the lower rungs of the mental health care ladder, working in environments where quality and continuity of care are compromised by systemic churn.

Quality and Equity in the Balance

The result is a mental health system that, while more accessible than in previous decades, is increasingly stratified. Working-class patients often receive care from entry-level or overburdened professionals, while wealthier clients can afford private practitioners who offer more time, continuity, and personalized care.

This imbalance is further complicated by a lack of oversight. Licensing boards and state agencies struggle to monitor the growing number of clinics and telehealth services, many of which operate across state lines or rely on algorithms to triage patients.

Meanwhile, the very people the ACA aimed to help—those juggling low-wage jobs, family stress, and systemic disadvantage—are left in a system where care may be quick, transactional, and occasionally substandard.

The Role of Traditional Higher Education

Traditional colleges and universities play a dual role: they continue to train therapists and counselors in more rigorous academic environments, but they also face growing pressure to "compete" with robocolleges in terms of cost, speed, and flexibility. At the same time, these institutions increasingly outsource student counseling services to external mental health platforms—some of them owned by private equity firms.

Thus, the cycle continues: higher education feeds the mental health system, while also adopting many of its structural compromises.

Conclusion

The expansion of mental health coverage under the ACA is a major public policy achievement. But access alone is not enough. The quality of care, the working conditions of providers, and the growing influence of profit-seeking investors and education mills all demand greater scrutiny.

For working-class Americans, mental health has become another arena where the promise of care often collides with the reality of austerity and privatization. And for those training to enter the profession, especially through robocolleges, the path forward may be just as precarious.

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References:

• Private Equity’s Inroads Into Mental Health Bring Concern

• The State of the Behavioral Health Workforce, November 2024 – HRSA

• Private Equity’s Move into Behavioral Health Care and Disparities

• Therapist Burnout and Toxic Private Equity in 2025

• Private Equity Is Gutting Autism Services – The Nation

• OHSU Study: Private Equity Expanding into Mental Health

• University of Phoenix and the Business of Selling Degrees

• The Cost of a Walden Degree

DOD continues to shield bad actor schools that prey upon military servicemembers

For more than seven years, we have been waiting to obtain information from the US Department of Defense (DOD) about schools that prey upon servicemembers using DOD Tuition Assistance to further their college aspirations. And we have done it at our peril, repeatedly taking flak from people in DC.  

As the Higher Education Inquirer reported earlier, DOD and these schools have had questionable relationships with these schools going back to the 1980s, with the for-profit college takeover of CCME, the Council of College and Military Educators.  

Those who follow the higher education business know the names of the bad actors, some that are still in business (like the University of Phoenix and Colorado Tech) and some that have closed (like ITT Tech and the Art Institutes). Others have morphed into arms of state universities (Kaplan University becoming Purdue University Global and Ashford University becoming University of Arizona Global). 

Accountability was supposed to happen during the Obama administration (with Executive Order 13607) but those rules were not fully implemented. Under the first Trump administration, these safeguards were largely ignored, and bad actor schools faced no penalties.  

Some of these scandals were reported in the media, and have been forgotten.

On April 1, 2025 we were again supposed to receive information about these bad actor schools, and the DOD officials who were complicit.  It didn't happen. That FOIA (22-1203) which was initiated in July 2022 is now scheduled for a reply on July 3, 2025, three years from the original submission. 

Previous FOIAs from 2019 also came up with no information.  And requests for information in 2017 from DOD officials were met with harassment from other parties. 

The only thing we can be grateful for is that DOD continues to communicate with us. 

 

Related links:

Trump's DOD Failed to Protect Servicemembers from Bad Actor Colleges, But We Demand More Evidence 

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 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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