Extending Gainful Employment to All Institutions—Without Diluting Its Urgent Purpose

The debate over Gainful Employment (GE) regulations is once again heating up, and as usual, the loudest noise doesn’t come from the students who have been harmed, but from the institutions and lobbyists who fear accountability. The GE rule—originally crafted to curb abuses in the for-profit sector—evaluates whether programs leave their students with earnings high enough to reasonably repay the loans pushed onto them. It is, at its core, a consumer-protection regulation intended to protect the people higher education is supposed to serve.

A growing chorus now argues that Gainful Employment should apply to all types of schools, not just vocational programs and for-profit institutions. In principle, that argument is not wrong. Accountability should not be selective. Tuition-driven public universities, prestige-obsessed private nonprofits, elite medical centers with shadowy revenue streams, religious institutions, and wealthy flagships all participate in federal student aid programs. They all receive taxpayer money. They all should have to answer the question: Do your students earn enough to justify the debt you load onto them?

But here is where the trap lies. Expanding GE to all institutions should not become a tactic to delay, dilute, or derail Gainful Employment’s implementation. Too often, calls for “fairness” mask efforts by industry groups and establishment-aligned lobbyists to sidestep regulation altogether. The for-profit sector has used this move for more than a decade. When faced with sanctions after years of deceptive recruiting, falsified job-placement rates, and sky-high default rates, the response was always: “Why us? If GE is good policy, make everyone do it.” It is a clever pivot—not toward accountability, but away from it.

The Department of Education has long understood where the worst abuses lie. Corinthian Colleges, ITT Tech, Education Management Corporation, Career Education Corporation, and dozens more left hundreds of thousands of borrowers financially ruined. Many of these systems were sustained by federal aid despite evidence of fraud; many operated with political cover provided by well-paid lobbyists and deregulation-friendly lawmakers. GE was designed to stop the bleeding—to prevent an industry already steeped in predation from reinventing itself yet again.

Extending GE to all institutions is a worthy goal, but the immediate necessity is to enforce the rule where the risks are greatest. The fact that certain nonprofit and public institutions also produce poor outcomes does not negate the catastrophic harm of the for-profit sector. It simply means that any expansion of GE must follow, not precede, robust implementation.

Moreover, GE should be understood in the broader context of how the higher education finance system evolved. For decades, policymakers outsourced accountability to market forces—encouraging tuition hikes, aggressive lending through the FFEL program, and eventually the widespread securitization of student debt. When cracks began to show in the 1990s and 2000s, the establishment response was not structural reform but technical tinkering. GE was one of the first serious attempts to measure whether federally funded education delivered an actual public benefit. That is precisely why it has been so aggressively contested.

And the truth is, higher education’s accountability debate has always been a history of delay. Institutions insist they need “more data,” “more nuance,” “more consultation,” or “more time,” even as predatory practices continue to metastasize. Expanding GE is necessary. But using expansion as a pretext to stall action only reinforces a system where institutions externalize risk and students internalize debt.

What students and taxpayers deserve today is twofold:
First, a strong GE rule applied immediately to the programs with the highest risk of abuse.
Second, a parallel policy process—transparent, public, and insulated from institutional lobbying—to develop an expansion of GE-style metrics across all schools.

This is not an either-or choice. It is a matter of sequencing and political honesty.

If higher education leaders want GE applied to everyone, they should welcome its implementation in the sectors with the longest record of fraud. If lawmakers want accountability to be universal, they should commit to expanding the regulation—after the current version is enforced, not instead of it. And if critics want fairness, they should start by acknowledging the vast inequities that made GE necessary in the first place.

We cannot pretend that all institutions pose equal risk. But neither can we pretend that only one sector deserves scrutiny. The student debt crisis—forty years in the making—demands real enforcement today and a broader structural fix tomorrow.

Anything less is not reform. It is evasion.

Sources
U.S. Department of Education, Gainful Employment Rulemaking Documentation
Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed: The Troubling Rise of For-Profit Colleges
Ben Miller, “Asleep at the Switch: How the Department of Education Failed to Police the For-Profit College Industry,” Center for American Progress
Jordan Matsudaira, research on postsecondary accountability metrics
The Century Foundation, reports on proprietary higher education and oversight failures

Same Predators, New Logo: PXED — A $22 Billion Student‑Debt Gamble Investors Should Beware

Warning to Investors: Phoenix Education Partners (PXED) may present itself as a cutting‑edge solution in career-focused higher education, but it’s built on the same extractive infrastructure that powered the University of Phoenix. With nearly a million students still owing an estimated $22 billion in federal loans, backing PXED isn’t just a financial bet — it’s a moral and reputational risk.

PXED’s leadership includes powerful private-equity players: Martin H. Nesbitt (Co‑CEO of Vistria, PXED trustee, and friend of Barak Obama), Adnan Nisar (Vistria), and Theodore Kwon and Itai Wallach (Apollo Global Management). Also in the mix is Chris Lynne, PXED’s president and a former Phoenix CFO intimately familiar with UOP’s controversial enrollment and marketing strategies. These are not educational reformers — they are dealmakers aiming to extract value from a student-debt pipeline.

[Image: Power Player Marty Nesbitt]

Higher Education Inquirer’s College Meltdown Index highlights how PXED fits into a broader financialization of higher education. Rather than reforming the University of Phoenix, its backers have resurrected it under a new brand — one that continues to enroll vulnerable adult learners, harvest federal aid, and operate with considerably less public oversight. 

Whistleblowers previously documented that Phoenix pressured recruitment staff to falsify student credentials, enrolling people who wouldn’t otherwise qualify for federal aid. Courses were allegedly kept deliberately easy — not to teach, but to keep students “active” enough to trigger aid disbursements. Internal marketing also exaggerated job prospects and corporate partnerships (e.g., with Microsoft and AT&T) to entice students. 

PXED may lean on a three‑year default rate (often cited around 12–13%), but that number is deeply misleading. Many UOP students stay stuck in deferment, forbearance, or income-driven repayment, masking the real long-term risk of non-payment. This is not just a short-term liability — it’s a potentially massive, multiyear financial exposure for PXED’s backers.

There was a significant FTC settlement that canceled $141 million in student debt and refunded $50 million to some students. But the scale of harm far exceeds that payout. Untold numbers of borrowers still have unresolved Borrower Defense claims, and the reputational risk remains profound.

Beyond financial concerns, there’s a major ethical dimension. HEI’s Divestment from Predatory Education argument makes a compelling case that investing in companies like PXED — or in loan servicers that profit from student debt — is not just risky, but morally indefensible. According to HEI, institutional investors (including university endowments, pension funds, and foundations) are complicit in a system that monetizes students’ aspirations and perpetuates financial harm. 

For investors, the message is clear: Phoenix is not merely an education play — it’s a high-stakes, ethically fraught extraction machine built on a legacy of indebtedness and regulatory vulnerability.

Unless PXED commits to real transparency, independent reporting on student outcomes, and accountability mechanisms — including reparations or debt relief — it should be approached not as a social-growth story, but as a dangerous gamble.

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Sources

• HEI. “Divestment from Predatory Education Stocks: A Moral Imperative.” Higher Education Inquirer

• HEI. “The College Meltdown Index: Profiting from the Wreckage of American Higher Education.” Higher Education Inquirer

• HEI. “What Do the University of Phoenix and Risepoint Have in Common? The Answer Is a Compelling Story of Greed and Politics.” Higher Education Inquirer

• HEI. “University of Phoenix Uses ‘Sandwich Moms’ to Sell a Debt Trap.” Higher Education Inquirer

• HEI. “New Data Show Nearly a Million University of Phoenix Debtors Owe $21.6 Billion.” Higher Education

Defenders of the Higher Ed Business: How Lawyers Shield a Broken Industry

In the long decline of American higher education, a certain class of professionals has quietly prospered—lawyers who specialize in defending institutions from the consequences of their own behavior. These attorneys rarely appear in public debates over student debt, predatory recruitment, or collapsing regional colleges. Yet their fingerprints are everywhere: in courtroom strategies designed to run out the clock, in motions that narrow the rights of borrowers, in settlement agreements that mask wrongdoing without forcing structural reform. They are the legal custodians of an industry that has spent decades avoiding accountability.

These lawyers often frame their role as neutral, simply providing representation to clients who need it. But the nature of the representation matters. When institutions mislead students, inflate job-placement claims, push them into unaffordable debt, or fire whistleblowers who object to unethical practices, these firms defend the institution—not the student, not the truth, and certainly not the public interest. Litigation summaries and public communications frequently present a parallel universe in which colleges are the victims, regulators are overreaching meddlers, and students who seek restitution are opportunists or pawns of political forces.

The legal work is highly lucrative. In many cases, struggling institutions spend more on their attorneys than they do on direct student support. Colleges on the brink of closure still find six-figure retainers to fight state attorney general investigations or borrower defense claims. Public institutions use taxpayer dollars to shield themselves from transparency, all while students—particularly first-generation, low-income, and working-class students—absorb the losses. Attorneys in this sector are acutely aware of the harms their clients may have caused, yet their work consistently prioritizes institutional preservation over student restitution.

The history of this defense strategy is well documented. In 2011, federal courts began seeing cases from former students challenging institutions for misleading claims, untransferable credits, and failure to provide promised training. Courts often compelled arbitration, effectively removing class action rights and leaving individual students to pursue costly and complex proceedings alone. This pattern set a precedent: institutional defense relied on procedural tools rather than addressing substantive misconduct. Between 2012 and 2013, state supreme courts upheld arbitration clauses that stripped students of collective redress, signaling to institutions that strategic legal defenses could block accountability. Students’ claims of misrepresentation, fraud, and breaches of enrollment agreements were repeatedly forced into private arbitration. The courts emphasized procedural enforcement over consideration of the underlying harms, allowing institutions to continue operating without public scrutiny.

From 2015 to 2018, the Department of Education’s Inspector General documented widespread mismanagement of federal Title IV funds, showing that hundreds of millions in federal loans were issued to students at institutions that were later found to have misrepresented outcomes or violated federal regulations. Lawsuits brought by former students during this period, including allegations under the False Claims Act, were often dismissed or compelled to arbitration. Institutions were shielded, while borrowers were left with debt and limited recourse.

In 2018 and 2019, state attorneys general filed enforcement actions against multiple institutions for fraudulent recruitment practices and misrepresentation of accreditation status. In almost every case, institutions relied on their legal teams to secure procedural victories: dismissal of class action claims, enforcement of arbitration clauses, and delays in settlements. While regulators attempted to intervene, the structural power of corporate legal defense delayed, diluted, or obscured accountability. During the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020–2021, students sued institutions for failure to provide adequate online instruction and for abrupt changes in course delivery. Defense attorneys successfully argued that enrollment agreements allowed these operational changes, resulting in widespread dismissal of student claims. Again, institutional defense won the day while students absorbed the financial and educational consequences.

From 2022 to 2025, the Borrower Defense to Repayment program and the SAVE Plan promised relief for students harmed by mismanaged institutions. Yet litigation and regulatory challenges have slowed implementation. Institutions and their attorneys have repeatedly used procedural maneuvers to contest forgiveness, compel arbitration, or delay repayments, leaving thousands of students in limbo while debt accumulates. Throughout this period, legal strategy has consistently prioritized institutional survival over student restitution. Arbitration clauses, procedural dismissals, and regulatory delay have allowed colleges and universities to maintain access to federal funds, complete mergers, or restructure under bankruptcy protection, all while leaving harmed students with debt, disrupted education, and minimal legal recourse.

These attorneys also help shape the narratives consumed by policymakers, journalists, and college trustees. Public-facing summaries often downplay institutional misconduct and amplify court decisions that limit student rights. They rarely acknowledge the emotional and financial devastation suffered by borrowers or the systemic risks created when institutions know their lawyers can absorb most of the blow. Instead, they champion a legal environment that treats higher education primarily as a business subject to claims risk, not as a public trust.

Justice, in this ecosystem, becomes a matter of resources. Students and former employees face a wall of corporate legal expertise, while institutions with long records of abuse continue to operate behind settlements and sealed agreements. Attorneys who could use their considerable skills to protect the most vulnerable instead use them to reinforce a system that extracts value from students and leaves them to fend for themselves once the promises fall apart.

The Higher Education Inquirer has long documented the College Meltdown: the closures, the debt, the failed oversight, and the human cost. But the meltdown is not only a story about administrators, investors, or federal agencies. It is also a story about the lawyers who defend the indefensible and who help maintain a higher education marketplace where accountability is optional and harm is routine. They may sleep well, but only because the consequences of their work are borne by others.

The question is not how they sleep at night. The question is how many more students will lose before the legal strategies that protect institutions are no longer enough to protect the industry itself.

Sources:

U.S. Department of Education, Borrower Defense to Repayment decision data, 2022–2025

Government Accountability Office (GAO), “For-Profit Colleges: Student Outcomes and Federal Oversight,” 2021

Department of Education Office of Federal Student Aid, Borrower Defense decisions, 2020–2025

State Attorneys General filings and enforcement actions against higher education institutions, 2018–2023

U.S. Department of Education Office of Inspector General, audits and reports on Title IV program compliance, 2015–2022

GAO report on arbitration clauses in for-profit colleges, 2018

Neoliberalism and the Global College Meltdown

Over the past four decades, neoliberalism has reshaped higher education into a market-driven enterprise, producing what can only be described as a global College Meltdown. Once envisioned as a public good—a tool for civic empowerment, social mobility, and national progress—higher education in the United States, the United Kingdom, and China has been transformed into a competitive market system defined by privatization, debt, and disillusionment.

The United States: From Public Good to Profit Engine

Nowhere has neoliberal ideology had a more devastating effect on higher education than in the United States. Beginning in the 1980s, with the Reagan administration’s cuts to federal grants and the expansion of student loans, higher education funding shifted from public investment to individual burden. Universities adopted corporate governance models, hired armies of administrators, and marketed education as a private commodity promising personal enrichment rather than collective advancement.

The results are visible everywhere: tuition inflation, student debt exceeding $1.7 trillion, and the proliferation of predatory for-profit colleges. Elite universities transformed into financial behemoths, hoarding endowments while relying on contingent faculty. Meanwhile, working-class and minority students were lured into debt traps by institutions that promised upward mobility but delivered unemployment and despair.

The U.S. College Meltdown—a term that describes the system’s moral and financial collapse—is a direct consequence of neoliberal policies: deregulation, privatization, and austerity disguised as efficiency. The profit motive replaced the public mission, and the casualties include students, adjuncts, and the ideal of education as a democratic right.

The United Kingdom: Marketization and Managerialism

The United Kingdom followed a similar trajectory under Margaret Thatcher and her successors. The introduction of tuition fees in 1998 and their tripling in 2012 marked the formal triumph of neoliberal logic over public investment. British universities became quasi-corporate entities, obsessed with league tables, branding, and global rankings.

The result has been mounting student debt, declining staff morale, and a hollowing out of intellectual life. Faculty strikes over pensions and pay disparities underscore a deeper crisis of purpose. Universities now function as rent-seeking landlords—building luxury dorms for international students while cutting humanities departments. The logic of “student-as-customer” has reduced education to a transaction, and accountability has been redefined to mean profit margin rather than social contribution.

The UK’s College Meltdown mirrors that of the U.S.—a story of financialization, precarious labor, and the erosion of public trust.

China: Neoliberalism with Authoritarian Characteristics

At first glance, China seems to defy the Western College Meltdown. Its universities have expanded rapidly, producing millions of graduates and investing heavily in research. But beneath this apparent success lies a deeply neoliberal structure embedded in an authoritarian framework.

Since the 1990s, China’s higher education system has embraced competition, rankings, and market incentives. Universities compete for prestige and funding; families invest heavily in private tutoring and overseas degrees; and graduates face a saturated labor market. The result is mounting anxiety and unemployment among young people—known online as the “lying flat” generation, disillusioned with promises of meritocratic success.

The Chinese model fuses state control with neoliberal marketization. Education serves as both an instrument of national power and a mechanism of social stratification. In this sense, China’s version of the College Meltdown reflects a global truth: the commodification of education leads to alienation, regardless of political system.

A Global System in Crisis

Whether in Washington, London, or Beijing, the pattern is strikingly similar. Neoliberalism treats education as an investment in human capital, reducing learning to a financial calculation. Universities compete like corporations; students borrow like consumers; and knowledge becomes a tool of capital accumulation rather than liberation.

This convergence of economic and ideological forces has created an unsustainable higher education bubble—overpriced, overcredentialized, and underdelivering. Across continents, graduates face debt, underemployment, and despair, while universities chase rankings and revenue streams instead of justice and truth.

Toward a Post-Neoliberal Education

Reversing the College Meltdown requires more than reform; it demands a new philosophy. Public universities must reclaim their civic mission. Education must once again be understood as a human right, not a private investment. Debt forgiveness, reinvestment in teaching, and democratic governance are essential first steps.

Neoliberalism’s greatest illusion was that markets could produce wisdom. The College Meltdown proves the opposite: when education serves profit instead of people, it consumes itself from within.

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Sources:

• Wendy Brown, Undoing the Demos (2015)

• David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism (2005)

• Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed (2017)

• The Higher Education Inquirer archives on the U.S. College Meltdown

• BBC, “University staff strikes and student debt crisis,” 2024

• Caixin, “China’s youth unemployment and education anxiety,” 2023

Entangled Frontiers: Saudi Arabia, Yemen, the UAE, South Sudan, and the Israel-Palestine Arena — Implications for Higher Education, Censorship, and Global Governance

The global higher education landscape is increasingly shaped by conflicts, diplomacy, and shifting regional alliances. The relationships among Saudi Arabia, Yemen, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), South Sudan, and the Israel-Palestine conflict highlight the interconnections between geopolitics, humanitarian crises, and the responsibilities of universities as institutions of knowledge, ethics, and justice. These contexts influence not only student mobility and research collaboration but also institutional priorities, funding flows, and academic freedom. Understanding the intersection of geopolitics and higher education is essential for institutions seeking to engage globally with integrity, equity, and impact.

For scholars and administrators, these regions exemplify the challenge of balancing opportunity and risk. Research and student engagement opportunities abound in humanitarian crises, fragile states, and post-conflict zones, yet these are embedded in complex political and ethical landscapes. Additionally, the growing pressures on American universities to navigate internal censorship, legislative constraints, and donor-influenced agendas have profound implications for their global credibility and ability to engage abroad. This article explores each of these regions in depth, examines the cross-cutting implications for higher education, and discusses the domestic pressures in U.S. higher education that shape international engagement.

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Saudi Arabia and Yemen

The war in Yemen has devastated the nation, creating one of the most severe humanitarian crises in recent history. Civilian infrastructure has been destroyed, millions of people have been displaced, and famine and disease threaten vast swathes of the population. Saudi Arabia, as the leading actor in the coalition intervening in Yemen, has faced both international criticism and pressure to negotiate. Recent diplomatic initiatives have suggested that Riyadh may be seeking to recalibrate its involvement, including attempts to engage Houthi representatives in peace talks. For higher education institutions, these shifts have important implications for student mobility, research opportunities, and refugee education programs. Yemen's crisis represents not only a humanitarian emergency but also a research frontier in global health, humanitarian logistics, and post-conflict educational reconstruction.

Saudi Arabia’s position on Israel adds another layer of complexity for global academic partnerships. The Kingdom continues to insist that it will not normalize relations with Israel without the establishment of a Palestinian state. This position affects regional alliances, funding priorities, and the willingness of other states to engage in collaborative academic initiatives. For universities, this reality translates into both opportunities and constraints. Scholarship programs, research funding, and institutional partnerships linked to Saudi Arabia may be influenced by the Kingdom’s foreign policy priorities. Institutions engaging with Yemen must navigate a humanitarian context that is deeply intertwined with the diplomatic posturing of a regional superpower.

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The United Arab Emirates

The UAE has emerged as a significant regional actor, leveraging economic strength to expand its influence across Africa, the Red Sea corridor, and the Middle East. Its normalisation with Israel through the Abraham Accords marked a historic diplomatic shift in Arab-Israeli relations, yet the UAE has simultaneously articulated clear objections to unilateral Israeli annexation plans in the West Bank. In Africa, the UAE has deepened ties with South Sudan and other fragile states through financial agreements, including banking cooperation and long-term oil-backed loans. These interventions exemplify how foreign investment, diplomacy, and regional security concerns intersect in ways that directly affect higher education.

For universities, the UAE represents both opportunity and caution. Institutions can engage with new funding streams, branch campuses, and international partnerships facilitated by Gulf state investment. At the same time, ethical considerations are paramount. Funding sources tied to conflict zones, extractive economic deals, or contested geopolitical agendas require careful institutional scrutiny. Universities must develop frameworks that incorporate conflict sensitivity, ethical risk assessment, and transparency. The UAE’s dual role as a facilitator of academic mobility and a participant in contested geopolitical spaces underscores the complexity of engagement in regions influenced by external power.

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South Sudan

South Sudan, the world’s youngest nation, has struggled to stabilize since its independence in 2011. Recurring conflict, economic dependence on oil, and weak governance structures have hindered the development of higher education infrastructure. Agreements with the UAE, including long-term oil-backed loans and financial cooperation, highlight the influence of foreign investment on the state’s trajectory and, by extension, its educational system.

For higher education, South Sudan presents both a critical research site and an urgent development need. Universities can contribute to capacity-building, curriculum development, and scholarship programs for displaced or return diaspora students. Research in post-conflict governance, peace studies, and resource management can inform broader academic understanding of fragile states. Yet these opportunities come with ethical and practical complexities. Partnerships with South Sudanese institutions must navigate the implications of resource-linked foreign investment, the risk of perpetuating inequality, and the fragility of governance structures. Universities engaging in South Sudan must balance their commitment to education with a nuanced understanding of political and economic realities.

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Israel and Palestine

The Israel-Palestine conflict continues to shape the global higher education discourse, affecting student mobility, refugee education, research collaborations, and institutional partnerships. Saudi Arabia’s insistence that normalization with Israel is contingent upon Palestinian statehood and East Jerusalem as its capital remains a critical point of leverage in regional diplomacy. The UAE, despite having normalized with Israel, continues to assert that Israeli annexation of the West Bank represents a “red line” that could destabilize the region.

For universities, this context presents both opportunities and ethical challenges. Engaging with Palestinian students, hosting refugee scholars, and conducting research on human rights and humanitarian crises are vital areas of academic intervention. At the same time, institutions must navigate funding sources, regional political sensitivities, and reputational risks. Academic freedom in research on Israel and Palestine is often contested, both abroad and domestically in the United States, where political and donor pressures shape what research is feasible, safe, or fundable.

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Censorship and Academic Freedom in U.S. Higher Education

Recent developments in American higher education highlight the fragility of academic freedom, which directly affects international engagement. Surveys indicate that over one-third of U.S. faculty perceive a decline in academic freedom, and approximately 70% report self-censorship on topics such as the Israel-Palestine conflict. Legislation in several states, framed under terms like “viewpoint diversity” or “campus neutrality,” imposes constraints on curriculum, speech, faculty tenure, and university governance. These pressures are compounded by donor influence, administrative oversight, and the politicization of higher education.

Censorship and self-censorship are not abstract concerns; they have tangible impacts on research agendas, global partnerships, and the capacity of universities to host refugee or international scholars. Institutions with programs in global health, humanitarian response, Middle East studies, or post-conflict development must contend with domestic pressures that may limit the scope of inquiry or public engagement. The erosion of academic freedom in the United States thus has a direct effect on the credibility and effectiveness of universities abroad, as it mirrors, in some respects, the constraints faced by institutions in fragile or authoritarian states.

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Cross-Cutting Themes

Several themes cut across these regional and domestic contexts. First, conflict and displacement in Yemen, South Sudan, and Palestine create urgent educational needs for refugees and internally displaced scholars. Universities must develop programs that provide access, mentorship, and flexible pathways to education. Second, foreign investment and resource-linked funding—from the UAE in South Sudan to Saudi-backed initiatives in Yemen—underscore the ethical complexities of international partnerships. Transparency, due diligence, and conflict-sensitive frameworks are essential. Third, diplomatic realignments, including the Abraham Accords and evolving Saudi-Israel relations, create new corridors for collaboration but also introduce geopolitical risk. Fourth, domestic censorship and political pressures in the U.S. affect research capacity, ethical engagement, and the freedom to examine contentious topics, directly influencing global credibility.

Finally, structural inequality and systemic injustice are central concerns. Funding flows, research agendas, and student access are all mediated by power structures that can perpetuate inequities. Universities must be conscious of whose voices are amplified, whose perspectives are sidelined, and how partnerships with conflict-affected states influence the production of knowledge. Ethical global engagement requires institutions to address these imbalances proactively.

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References & Sources

1. PEN America, “New Report Unveils Alarming Tactics in Censorship of Higher Education,” pen.org

2. Times of India, “Is Academic Freedom on the Decline? 35% of US College Professors Say Yes,” timesofindia.indiatimes.com

3. Times of Israel, “Faculty Survey Reveals Fear, Self-Censorship at US Universities,” timesofisrael.com

4. Associated Press, “Under Threat from Trump, Columbia University Agrees to Policy Changes,” apnews.com

5. The Guardian, “US Universities’ Faculty Unite to Defend Academic Freedom After Trump’s Attacks,” theguardian.com

6. Le Monde, “UC Berkeley, the US Capital of Free Speech, Stands Firm Against Trump,” lemonde.fr

Generation Z and the Fractured American Dream: Class Divide, Debt, and the Search for a Future

For Generation Z, the old story of social mobility—study hard, go to college, work your way up—has lost its certainty. The class divide that once seemed bridgeable through education now feels entrenched, as debt, precarious work, and economic volatility blur the promise of progress.

The new economy—dominated by artificial intelligence, speculative assets like cryptocurrency, and inflated housing markets—has not delivered stability for most. Instead, it’s widened gaps between those who own and those who owe. Many young Americans feel locked out of wealth-building entirely. Some have turned to riskier bets—digital assets, gig work, or start-ups powered by AI tools—to chase opportunities that traditional institutions no longer provide. Others have succumbed to despair. Suicide rates among young adults have climbed sharply in recent years, correlating with financial stress, debt, and social isolation.

And echoing through this uncertain landscape is a song that first rose from the coalfields of Kentucky during the Great Depression—Florence Reece’s 1931 protest hymn, “Which Side Are You On?”

Come all you good workers,
Good news to you I’ll tell,
Of how the good old union
Has come in here to dwell.

Which side are you on?
Which side are you on?

Nearly a century later, those verses feel newly urgent—because Gen Z is again being forced to pick a side: between solidarity and survival, between reforming a broken system or resigning themselves to it.

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The Class Divide and the Broken Ladder
Despite record levels of education, Gen Z faces limited social mobility. College remains a class marker, not an equalizer. Students from affluent families attend better-funded universities, graduate on time, and often receive help with housing or job placement. Working-class and first-generation students, meanwhile, navigate under-resourced campuses, heavier debt, and weaker professional networks.

The Pew Research Center found that first-generation college graduates have nearly $100,000 less in median wealth than peers whose parents also hold degrees. For many, the degree no longer guarantees a secure foothold in the middle class—it simply delays financial independence.

They say in Harlan County,
There are no neutrals there,
You’ll either be a union man,
Or a thug for J. H. Blair.

The metaphor still fits: there are no neutrals in the modern class struggle over debt, housing, and automation.

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Debt, Doubt, and the New Normal
Gen Z borrowers owe an average of around $23,000 in student loans, a figure growing faster than any other generation’s debt load. Over half regret taking on those loans. Many delay buying homes, having children, or even seeking medical care. Those who drop out without degrees are burdened with debt and little to show for it.

The debt-based model has become a defining feature of American life—especially for the working class. The price of entry to a better future is borrowing against one’s own.

Don’t scab for the bosses,
Don’t listen to their lies,
Us poor folks haven’t got a chance
Unless we organize.

If Reece’s song once called miners to unionize against coal barons, its spirit now calls borrowers, renters, adjuncts, and gig workers to collective resistance against financial systems that profit from their precarity.

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AI and the Erosion of Work
Artificial intelligence promises efficiency, but it also threatens to hollow out the entry-level job market Gen Z depends on. Automation in journalism, design, law, and customer service cuts off rungs of the career ladder just as young workers reach for them.

While elite graduates may move into roles that supervise or profit from AI, working-class Gen Zers are more likely to face displacement. AI amplifies the class divide: it rewards those who already have capital, coding skills, or connections—and sidelines those who don’t.

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Crypto Dreams and Financial Desperation
Locked out of traditional wealth paths, many young people turned to cryptocurrency during the pandemic. Platforms like Robinhood and Coinbase promised quick gains and independence from the “rigged” economy. But when crypto markets crashed in 2022, billions in speculative wealth evaporated. Some who had borrowed or used student loan refunds to invest lost everything.

Online forums chronicled not only the financial losses but also the psychological fallout—stories of panic, shame, and in some tragic cases, suicide. The new “digital gold rush” became another mechanism for transferring wealth upward.

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The Real Estate Wall
While digital markets rise and fall, real estate remains the ultimate symbol of exclusion. Home prices have climbed over 40 percent since 2020, while mortgage rates hover near 8 percent. For most of Gen Z, ownership is out of reach.

Older generations built equity through housing; Gen Z rents indefinitely, enriching landlords and institutional investors. Without intergenerational help, the “starter home” has become a myth. In America’s new class order, those who inherit property inherit mobility.

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Despair and the Silent Crisis
Behind the data lies a mental health emergency. The CDC reports that suicide among Americans aged 10–24 has risen nearly 60 percent in the past decade. Economic precarity, debt, housing insecurity, and climate anxiety all contribute.

Therapists describe “financial trauma” as a defining condition for Gen Z—chronic anxiety rooted in systemic instability. Universities respond with mindfulness workshops, but few confront the deeper issue: a society that privatized risk and monetized hope.

They say in Harlan County,
There are no neutrals there—
Which side are you on, my people,
Which side are you on?

The question lingers like a challenge to policymakers, educators, and investors alike.

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A Two-Tier Future
Today’s economy is splitting into two distinct realities:

• The secure class, buffered by family wealth, education, AI-driven income, and real estate assets.

• The precarious class, burdened by loans, high rents, unstable work, and psychological strain.

The supposed democratization of opportunity through technology and education has in practice entrenched a new feudalism—one coded in algorithms and contracts instead of coal and steel.

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Repairing the System, Not the Student
For Generation Z, the American Dream has become a high-interest loan. Education, technology, and financial innovation—once tools of liberation—now function as instruments of control.

Reforming higher education is necessary, but not sufficient. The deeper work lies in redistributing power: capping predatory interest rates, investing in affordable housing, curbing speculative bubbles, ensuring that AI’s gains benefit labor as well as capital, and confronting the mental health crisis that shadows all of it.

Florence Reece’s song endures because its question has never been answered—only updated. As Gen Z stands at the intersection of debt and digital capitalism, that question rings louder than ever:

Which side are you on?

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Sources

• Florence Reece, “Which Side Are You On?” (1931).

• Pew Research Center, “First-Generation College Graduates Lag Behind Their Peers on Key Economic Outcomes,” 2021.

• Dēmos, The Debt Divide: How Student Debt Impacts Opportunities for Black and White Borrowers, 2016.

• EducationData.org, “Student Loan Debt by Generation,” 2024.

• Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis, Gen Z Student Debt and Wealth Data Brief, 2022.

• CNBC, “Gen Z vs. Their Parents: How the Generations Stack Up Financially,” 2024.

• WUSF, “Generation Z’s Net Worth Is Being Undercut by College Debt,” 2024.

• Newsweek, “Student Loan Update: Gen Z Hit with Highest Payments,” 2024.

• The Kaplan Group, “How Student Debt Is Locking Millennials and Gen Z Out of Homeownership,” 2024.

• CDC, Suicide Mortality in the United States, 2001–2022, National Center for Health Statistics, 2023.

• Brookings Institution, “The Impact of AI on Labor Markets: Inequality and Automation,” 2024.

• CNBC, “Crypto Crash Wipes Out Billions in Investor Wealth, Gen Z Most Exposed,” 2023.

• Zillow, “U.S. Housing Affordability Reaches Lowest Point Since 1989,” 2024.

Divestment from Predatory Education Stocks: A Moral Imperative

Calls for divestment from exploitative industries have long been part of movements for social and economic justice—whether opposing apartheid, fossil fuels, or private prisons. Today, another sector demands moral scrutiny: the network of for-profit education corporations and student loan servicers that have turned higher learning into a site of mass indebtedness and despair. From predatory colleges to the companies that profit from collecting on student debt, the system functions as a pipeline of extraction. For those who believe education should serve the public good, the issue is not merely financial—it is moral.

The Human Cost of Predatory Education

For decades, for-profit college chains such as Corinthian Colleges, ITT Tech, the University of Phoenix, DeVry, and Capella targeted low-income students, veterans, single parents, and people of color with high-pressure marketing and promises of career advancement. These institutions, funded primarily through federal student aid, often charged premium tuition for substandard programs that left graduates worse off than when they began.

When Corinthian and ITT Tech collapsed, they left hundreds of thousands of students with worthless credits and mountains of debt. But the collapse did not end the exploitation—it simply shifted it. The business model has re-emerged in online form through education technology and “online program management” (OPM) firms such as 2U, Coursera, and Academic Partnerships. These firms, in partnership with elite universities like Harvard, Yale, and USC, replicate the same dynamics of inflated costs, opaque contracts, and limited accountability.

The Servicing of Debt as a Business Model

Beyond the schools themselves, student loan servicers and collectors—Maximus, Sallie Mae, and Navient among them—have built immense profits from managing and pursuing student debt. Sallie Mae, once a government-sponsored enterprise, was privatized in the 2000s and evolved into a powerful lender and loan securitizer. Navient, its spinoff, became notorious for deceptive practices and aggressive collections that trapped borrowers in cycles of delinquency.

Maximus, a major federal contractor, now services defaulted student loans on behalf of the U.S. Department of Education. These companies profit directly from the misery of borrowers—many of whom are victims of predatory schools or structural inequality. Their incentive is not to liberate students from debt, but to sustain and expand it.

The Role of Institutional Investors

The complicity of institutional investors cannot be ignored. Pension funds, endowments, and major asset managers have consistently financed both for-profit colleges and loan servicers, even after repeated scandals and lawsuits. Public sector pension funds—ironically funded by educators—have held stock in Navient, Maximus, and large for-profit college operators. Endowments that pride themselves on ethical or ESG investing have too often overlooked education profiteering.

Investment firms like BlackRock, Vanguard, and State Street collectively hold billions of dollars in these companies, stabilizing an industry that thrives on the financial vulnerability of students. To profit from predatory education is to participate, however indirectly, in the commodification of aspiration.

Divestment as a Moral and Educational Act

Divesting from predatory education companies and loan servicers is not just an act of conscience—it is an educational statement in itself. It affirms that learning should be a vehicle for liberation, not a mechanism of debt servitude. When universities, pension boards, and faith-based investors divest from corporations like Maximus, Navient, and 2U, they are reclaiming education’s moral purpose.

The divestment movement offers a broader civic lesson: that profit and progress are not synonymous, and that investment must align with justice. Faith communities, student debt activists, and labor unions have made similar stands before—against apartheid, tobacco, and fossil fuels. The same principle applies here. An enterprise that depends on deception, coercion, and financial harm has no place in a socially responsible portfolio.

A Call to Action

Transparency is essential. Pension boards, university endowments, and foundations must disclose their holdings in for-profit education and student loan servicing companies. Independent investigations should assess the human consequences of these investments, particularly their disproportionate impact on women, veterans, and people of color.

The next step is moral divestment. Educational institutions, public pension systems, and religious organizations should commit to withdrawing investments from predatory education stocks and debt servicers. Funds should be redirected to debt relief, community college programs, and initiatives that restore trust in education as a public good.

The corporate education complex—spanning recruitment, instruction, lending, and collection—has monetized both hope and hardship. The time has come to sever public and institutional complicity in this cycle. Education should empower, not impoverish. Divestment is not merely symbolic—it is a declaration of values, a demand for accountability, and a reaffirmation of education’s original promise: to serve humanity rather than exploit it.

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Sources:

• U.S. Department of Education, Borrower Defense to Repayment Reports

• Senate HELP Committee, For Profit Higher Education: The Failure to Safeguard the Federal Investment and Ensure Student Success (2012)

• Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB) enforcement actions against Navient and Sallie Mae

• The Century Foundation, Online Program Managers and the Public Interest

• Student Borrower Protection Center, Profiting from Pain: The Financialization of the Student Debt Crisis

• Higher Education Inquirer archives

Hyper Credentialism and the Neoliberal College Meltdown (Glen McGhee and Dahn Shaulis)

In the neoliberal era, higher education has become less a public good and more a marketplace of promises. The ideology of “lifelong learning” has been weaponized into an endless treadmill of hyper-credentialism — a cycle in which students, workers, and institutions are trapped in perpetual pursuit of new degrees, certificates, and micro-badges.

From Education to Signaling

Once, a college degree was seen as a path to citizenship and critical thought. Today, it’s a market signal — and an increasingly weak one. The bachelor’s degree no longer guarantees stable employment, so the system produces ever-more credentials: master’s programs, micro-certificates, “badges,” and other digital tokens of employability.

This shift doesn’t solve economic precarity — it monetizes it. Workers internalize the blame for their own stagnating wages, believing that the next credential will finally make them “market ready.” Employers, meanwhile, use credential inflation to justify low pay and increased screening, outsourcing the costs of training onto individuals.

A Perfect Fit for Neoliberalism

Hyper-credentialism is not a side effect; it’s a feature of the neoliberal education economy. It supports four pillars of the model:

Privatization and Profit Extraction – Public funding declines while students pay more. Each new credential creates a new revenue stream for universities, online program managers (OPMs), and ed-tech corporations.

Individual Responsibility – The structural causes of unemployment or underemployment are reframed as personal failures. “You just need to upskill.”

Debt Dependency – Students and workers finance their “reskilling” through federal loans and employer-linked programs, feeding the student-debt industry and its servicers.

Market Saturation and Collapse – As more credentials flood the market, each becomes less valuable. Institutions respond by creating even more credentials, accelerating the meltdown.

The Education-Finance Complex

The rise of hyper-credentialism is inseparable from the growth of the education-finance complex — a web of universities, private lenders, servicers, and Wall Street investors.
Firms like 2U, Coursera, and Guild Education sell the illusion of “access” while extracting rents from students and institutions alike. University administrators, pressured by enrollment declines, partner with these firms to chase new markets — often by spinning up online master’s programs with poor outcomes.

The result is a debt-driven ecosystem that thrives even as public confidence collapses. The fewer good jobs there are, the more desperate people become to buy new credentials. The meltdown feeds itself.

Winners and Losers

Winners: Ed-tech executives, university administrators, debt servicers, and the politicians who promote “lifelong learning” as a substitute for wage growth or labor rights.

Losers: Students, adjunct faculty, working-class families, and the public universities hollowed out by austerity and privatization.

The rhetoric of “upskilling” and “personal growth” masks a grim reality: a transfer of wealth from individuals to financialized institutions under the guise of opportunity.

A System That Can’t Redeem Itself

As enrollment declines and public trust erodes, the industry doubles down on micro-credentials and “stackable” pathways — small fixes to a structural crisis. Each badge, each certificate, is sold as a ticket back into the middle class. Yet every new credential devalues the old, producing diminishing returns for everyone except those selling the product.

Hyper-credentialism thus becomes both the symptom and the accelerant of the college meltdown. It sustains the illusion of mobility in a collapsing system, ensuring that the blame never reaches the architects of austerity, privatization, and financialization.

Sources and Further Reading

Brown, Wendy. Undoing the Demos: Neoliberalism’s Stealth Revolution.

Giroux, Henry. Neoliberalism’s War on Higher Education.

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

The Higher Education Inquirer archives on the college meltdown, OPMs, and the debt economy.

When Parenthood Feels Like a Trap: Regret, Trumpism, and the Educated Underclass

The recent MSN article “I Regret Having Children — It Has Stripped My Life of Meaning” is not just a private confession. It is a mirror reflecting a collapsing social order — one where parenting, education, and labor are all defined by debt, exhaustion, and disillusionment.

In today’s America, the family, the school, and the workplace no longer promise progress; they reproduce precarity. The personal regret of parents becomes a collective symptom of a society that demands self-sacrifice but offers little reciprocity.

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The Privatization of Care and the Myth of the “Good Parent”

Since the Reagan era, neoliberal ideology has reduced social problems to personal failures. Families are told to work harder, plan better, and be grateful — while the state retreats from childcare, healthcare, and education.

Parenting, once understood as a shared civic project, is now a private ordeal. The “good parent” myth demands endless self-denial while ignoring the structural forces that make family life unsustainable: stagnant wages, unaffordable housing, unaffordable education, and the erosion of community networks.

The parent who whispers, “I regret having children,” isn’t rejecting love — they are acknowledging betrayal. They were promised fulfillment through family, but abandoned by a system that commodifies care and isolates suffering.

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The Dobbs Decision and the Politics of Coerced Parenthood

The 2022 Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization ruling — which overturned Roe v. Wade — deepened this betrayal. By stripping away the constitutional right to abortion, the Supreme Court forced millions into unwanted pregnancies under conditions of economic and emotional strain.

This was no accident of jurisprudence. It was the political offspring of neoliberal neglect and Trump-era authoritarianism — a regime that exalts “family values” while defunding the social infrastructure that makes family life possible.

Dobbs represents coerced parenthood in a nation without paid leave, affordable childcare, or universal healthcare. It is the culmination of a system that insists on reproduction but refuses responsibility — transforming bodily autonomy into a political battleground while leaving families to fend for themselves.

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Trumpism, Despair, and Manufactured Nostalgia

Trumpism feeds on the despair that neoliberalism creates. It promises to restore “traditional America” — stable jobs, strong families, obedient children — but it offers only resentment as consolation.

When exhausted parents or debt-ridden graduates look for meaning, Trumpian populism channels their frustration toward scapegoats: immigrants, educators, feminists, the poor. It converts structural despair into cultural war.

Trump’s America is a paradox: it glorifies the family while destroying the material base that sustains it. It preaches “Make America Great Again” while keeping its base desperate, indebted, and emotionally dependent on rage.

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The Rise of the Educated Underclass

Nowhere is this contradiction clearer than in the making of the educated underclass — the millions of Americans who did everything “right” but found the social contract shredded beneath them.

They earned degrees, followed career advice, and invested in the myth of meritocracy. Yet decades of wage stagnation, precarious employment, and student debt have left them economically fragile and politically disoriented.

Many are parents who believed education would secure their children’s futures. Instead, they see their own children inheriting instability — locked out of homeownership, burdened with loans, and facing a world where credentials no longer guarantee dignity.

This educated underclass, spanning teachers, social workers, adjunct professors, nurses, and mid-level professionals, represents the human fallout of the neoliberal university and the marketized economy it feeds. Their disillusionment — like parental regret — is both personal and systemic.

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Higher Education as a Debt Factory

Colleges once promised upward mobility; now they manufacture anxiety and debt. The family that sacrifices for tuition does so on faith that a degree still matters. But as corporate consolidation and automation erode stable work, that faith collapses.

Parents, particularly those from the working and lower-middle class, internalize this collapse as failure — not recognizing that the problem lies in a system that sells hope on credit. Their children, emerging into a gig economy with record debt, form the next generation of the educated underclass: credentialed, precarious, and politically volatile.

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Regret as a Rational Response

In this context, parental regret is not deviance — it is rational. It reflects the exhaustion of trying to raise children, pay loans, and sustain meaning in a society where everything, including love, has been commodified.

It reflects the psychic cost of neoliberalism’s lie: that education, work, and family can still deliver self-realization without collective solidarity or public investment.

And it warns of what happens when a nation loses faith not only in its institutions but in the very act of reproduction itself.

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Toward a Politics of Care and Repair

To break this cycle, we must confront the intertwined crises of reproduction, education, and inequality. A humane alternative would demand:

• Universal reproductive freedom — protecting the right not to bear children, and the resources to raise them with dignity.

• Tuition-free higher education and student debt relief — dismantling the educated underclass.

• Guaranteed childcare, healthcare, and paid leave — treating parenting as collective labor, not private suffering.

• Living wages and housing justice — reestablishing the economic base of real family life.

• Democratized higher education — ending the capture of universities by finance and corporate boards.

Only by restoring care as a public good — not a private burden — can we move beyond regret toward renewal.

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From Regret to Resistance

The parent who says, “I regret having children,” and the graduate who says, “My degree ruined my life,” are not failures. They are witnesses. Their grief exposes the moral bankruptcy of a system that exploits care, education, and aspiration for profit.

Trumpism thrives on that despair, offering nostalgia instead of justice. Neoliberalism rationalizes it, calling it “personal responsibility.”

But the truth is collective: meaning cannot survive where solidarity has been destroyed. The antidote to regret is not silence — it is organizing. It is rebuilding a society where care, education, and dignity are shared, not sold.

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Sources

• MSN News, “I Regret Having Children — It Has Stripped My Life of Meaning,” 2025.

• Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, 597 U.S. ___ (2022).

• Donath, Orna. Regretting Motherhood: A Sociopolitical Analysis. North Atlantic Books, 2017.

• Fraser, Nancy. Cannibal Capitalism. Verso, 2022.

• Brown, Wendy. Undoing the Demos. Zone Books, 2015.

• Giroux, Henry. Neoliberalism’s War on Higher Education. Haymarket, 2014.

• Hochschild, Arlie. Strangers in Their Own Land. The New Press, 2016.

• Shaulis, Dahn. The College Meltdown (Higher Education Inquirer archives).

A HUGE legal win for MILLIONS of borrowers (Protect Borrowers)

Borrowers just secured a MAJOR victory! In AFT v. U.S. Department of Education (ED), the Trump Administration agreed to protect borrowers enrolled in Income-Driven Repayment (IDR) plans and deliver student debt relief to borrowers making payments under those plans for decades.

This is a huge milestone. At the time AFT originally filed the lawsuit in March 2025—represented by Protect Borrowers and Berger Montague—the Trump Administration had removed the application to enroll in IDR from government websites and had issued a secret order to student loan contractors to halt all IDR enrollment and processing. After we filed, the government quickly resumed accepting applications and, months later, began processing those applications again. ED’s recent agreement is the first time the Trump Administration has publicly committed its intent to follow the law, after representations it made that it wouldn’t cancel debt under certain—and at times, any—IDR plan.

The Administration has now agreed to:



• Cancel student debt for all eligible borrowers enrolled in Income-Based Repayment (IBR), Income-Contingent Repayment, and Pay As You Earn payment plans and the Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF) program;

• Refund any borrower who makes additional payments beyond the date of eligibility for IDR cancellation;

• Process IDR applications and PSLF Buyback applications—including applications for the IBR plan from borrowers without a partial financial hardship.

• Recognize the date a borrower becomes eligible for cancellation as the effective date of discharge and not issue IRS forms suggesting that cancelled debt is taxable for borrowers whose effective date is on or before December 31, 2025; and

• File six monthly status reports with the court on the status of its IDR and PSLF application and loan cancellation processing—increasing transparency and accountability.

This relief will extend to all borrowers.

Borrowers urgently needed this agreement. Prior to it, borrowers eligible to have their loans cancelled in 2025 were at risk of getting stuck with a large tax bill due to the Administration’s processing delays. This is because Trump and Congressional Republicans’ “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” (OBBBA) permanently extended Congress’s 2018 action to exclude cancelled debts for death or disability from federal taxable income—but not all cancelled student loan debt. As a result, millions of borrowers who earn debt relief under an IDR plan after January 1, 2026, could see their taxes skyrocket. Working families can’t shoulder thousands of dollars in additional taxes—they’re already stretched thin by rising costs of living, a weak job market, mounting levels of debt, and OBBBA’s historic cuts to public benefits.

Authoritarian Plutocracy and Higher Education: New Moves under Trump

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Recent Sources & Reporting

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

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

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

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

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

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