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

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

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

A Dark Age in Plain Sight

Digital decay is usually associated with vanishing files and outdated formats.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

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

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

The Robocolleges and the Rise of the Algorithm

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

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

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

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

Myth #1: The College Degree as Guaranteed Mobility

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

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

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

Myth #2: Innovation Through EdTech

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

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

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

Myth #3: The Digital Campus as a Public Good

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

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

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

Greed, Cheating, and Digital Amnesia

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

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

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

Myth as Memory Hole

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

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

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

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

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Sources and References:

• Savage Inequalities, Jonathan Kozol

• Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed

• Christopher Newfield, The Great Mistake

• Nancy MacLean, Democracy in Chains

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

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

• SPARC (Scholarly Publishing and Academic Resources Coalition)

• Internet Archive reports on digital preservation

• ProPublica and The Century Foundation on OPMs and robocolleges

• Faculty union reports on librarian and archivist layoffs

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

San Diego Community Joins 'Out of CECOT' Nationwide Protest Against ICE Arrest Practices in Chula Vista, Thursday July 24th 10 AM

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

WHAT: Protest against recent increase in Immigration and Customs Enforcement arrests and targeting of non-violent, non-criminal working families

WHEN: Thursday, July 24, 10-11:30 a.m.

WHERE: Corner of Birch Road and Millenia Avenue, Chula Vista (near 1610 Millenia Ave., Chula Vista, CA 91915)

WHO: Indivisible Chula Vista and community members

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Indivisible Chula Vista will join an 'Out of CECOT' nationwide day of action Thursday, July 24th to protest what organizers call a dramatic increase in ICE arrests of individuals without criminal convictions.

According to San Diego Union-Tribune reporting, 72% of those arrested by ICE in San Diego in June had no criminal convictions or charges.¹

"The Trump administration keeps saying that they are targeting 'the worst of the worst,' that they were only targeting violent criminals, terrorists and gang members," said Janine Manchel, event organizer. "Instead, they are arresting children, parents going to work, people attending their immigration hearings. They are tearing families apart, hurting farms and businesses and instilling fear in our communities, all just to meet an arbitrary daily arrest quota of 3,000 per day."

Organizers are calling for:

• An end to ICE arrests of individuals without criminal convictions
• An end to immigration enforcement operations that organizers say instill fear and disrupt workplaces
• An end to ICE arrests of people attending scheduled immigration hearings
  

To coordinate any interviews with organizers or community members, please reach out to the media contact below.

MEDIA CONTACT: 
Janine Manchel, Indivisible Chula Vista
(858) 229-9738‬‬
pestibear@gmail.com 

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¹ San Diego Union-Tribune, "What the data say about who ICE is arresting in San Diego," July 8, 2025. https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/2025/07/06/what-the-data-say-about-who-ice-is-arresting-in-san-diego/

The Disillusioned Young Man and Higher Ed in the US

Across the United States, growing numbers of young men are dropping out—of college, of the labor market, and of public life. They are disillusioned, disappointed, and increasingly detached from the institutions that once promised stability and purpose. Higher education is at the center of this unraveling. For many young men, it has become a symbol of a broken social contract—offering neither clear direction nor tangible reward.

Enrollment numbers reflect this retreat. Women now account for nearly 60 percent of U.S. college students. Men, particularly working-class men, have been withdrawing steadily for years. They are not disappearing from education simply out of disinterest—they are being priced out, pushed out, and in some cases replaced.

College has become a high-risk gamble for those without economic security. Some students take out tens of thousands of dollars in loans and find themselves dropping out or graduating into dead-end jobs. Others gamble in a more literal sense. The explosion of online sports betting and gambling apps has created a public health crisis that is largely invisible. Research shows that college students, particularly men, are significantly more likely to develop gambling problems than the general population. Some have even used federal student aid to fund their gambling. The financial and psychological toll is severe.

Alcohol remains another outlet for despair. While binge drinking has long been part of campus life, it is now more frequently a form of self-medication than social bonding. The stresses of debt, job insecurity, isolation, and untreated mental illness have led many young men to drink excessively. The consequences—academic failure, expulsion, addiction, violence—are often invisible until they are catastrophic.

The education system offers few lifelines. Counseling services are understaffed. Mentorship is scarce. For-profit colleges and nonselective public institutions offer quick credentials but little career mobility. Internships are often unpaid. Adjunct professors, who now make up the majority of the college teaching workforce, are overworked and underpaid, with little time for student engagement. The result is an environment where young men are left to fend for themselves, often without guidance, community, or hope.

Into this vacuum step political influencers who promise meaning and belonging—but offer grievance and distraction instead. Charlie Kirk, founder of Turning Point USA, has become one of the most recognizable figures appealing to disaffected young men. His message is simple: college is a scam, the system is rigged against you, and the left is to blame. But Kirk’s rhetoric does little to address real economic suffering. Instead of empowering young men with tools for analysis, organizing, or resilience, he offers them a worldview of resentment and victimhood. It's ideology without substance—an escape route that leads nowhere.

Compounding the crisis is the transformation of the U.S. labor market. Union jobs that once offered working-class men decent wages and stability have been gutted by automation, offshoring, deregulation, and union-busting campaigns. The pathways that allowed previous generations to thrive without a college degree have largely disappeared. Retail and service jobs dominate the landscape, with low pay, high turnover, and little dignity.

Meanwhile, higher education institutions have increasingly turned to international students to fill seats and boost tuition revenue. Many universities, especially at the graduate level, rely on international students—who often pay full price—to subsidize their operations. These students frequently gain access to internships, research positions, and jobs in STEM fields, sometimes edging out U.S. students with less financial or academic capital. While international students contribute intellectually and economically to American higher ed, their presence also reflects a system more concerned with revenue than with serving local and regional populations.

This mix of economic decline, addiction, alienation, and displacement has left many young men feeling irrelevant. Some turn to substances. Some drop out entirely. Others embrace simplistic ideologies that frame their loss as cultural rather than structural. But the deeper truth is this: they are caught between institutions that extract from them and influencers who exploit them.

The American higher education system has failed to adapt to the reality of millions of young men who no longer see it as a path forward. Until colleges address the psychological, social, and economic pain these men are facing—until they offer real support, purpose, and value—the disillusionment will deepen. Until labor policy creates viable alternatives through union jobs, apprenticeships, and living wages, higher education will continue to function not as a ladder of mobility but as a mirage.

Sources:
National Student Clearinghouse Research Center, Current Term Enrollment Estimates
University at Buffalo, Clinical and Research Institute on Addictions
International Center for Responsible Gaming
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance
Turning Point USA public statements and financial filings
U.S. Department of Labor, Bureau of Labor Statistics: Union Membership Data
Institute of International Education, Open Doors Report on International Educational Exchange
The Higher Education Inquirer archives on student debt, labor displacement, and campus disinformation campaigns

The Rich Life: Joy, Asceticism, Solidarity—and a Rejection of GDP Thinking

In a society obsessed with growth, speed, and accumulation, the phrase “the rich life” is most often used to describe an existence of luxury and exclusivity—curated vacations, designer goods, elite diplomas, and six-figure job offers. Elite universities in the United States, with their billion-dollar endowments and glossy marketing, have long sold students on this vision. Success is measured in metrics: earnings, endowment size, prestige rankings, and placement in the upper tiers of a system that quietly rewards exploitation.

But beneath the glittering surfaces lies a deeper poverty—a poverty of meaning, connection, and collective well-being. The GDP may rise, but so do depression, ecological collapse, burnout, and social fragmentation. In this context, the rich life must be reimagined. It cannot mean more consumption and more isolation. It must mean deeper joy, chosen simplicity, and solidarity with others. It must reject GDP as a measure of progress, and instead embrace a fuller, more humane vision of what it means to thrive.

Since World War II, Gross Domestic Product has been the dominant measure of national health and success. But GDP counts weapons manufacturing, fossil fuel extraction, and fast food sales as positives. It says nothing about equity, sustainability, or whether people have their basic needs met. It is a deeply distorted metric that treats all economic activity as inherently good—even when that activity is war, incarceration, deforestation, or cancer treatment. When universities follow this logic, they end up celebrating job placement in exploitative industries, increased student consumption, and rising tuition as signs of vitality. Entire institutions become addicted to a model of growth that quietly undermines the very conditions of human and planetary survival.

To understand what a truly rich life looks like, we might turn not to economic models but to psychological and philosophical ones. Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, often misunderstood and oversimplified, offers a more nuanced framework. At the base are physiological needs: food, water, shelter, rest. Above that are safety needs—security, health, freedom from violence. Next come love and belonging, followed by esteem and the need to be respected. At the top is self-actualization: the ability to live with purpose, creativity, and integrity.

In a society driven by GDP and status competition, many people are stuck in the lower tiers of Maslow’s hierarchy—working long hours just to meet their physiological needs, or trapped in precarity with no sense of safety. Even among the affluent, the higher needs—belonging, self-worth, purpose—are often unmet. Elite universities contribute to this problem when they promise that self-actualization will follow prestige, when in fact they often deepen student anxiety and isolation through competition and debt.

The modern economy creates the illusion of abundance while delivering profound scarcity—scarcity of time, attention, care, and community. That’s where asceticism comes in, not as a form of self-denial, but as a conscious disengagement from toxic excess. True asceticism is not about suffering. It is about choosing a life that centers intention over impulse, relationships over acquisition. It allows us to reclaim our attention, our agency, and our sense of enoughness. When you no longer define your worth by your salary or possessions, space opens up—for joy, for learning, for resistance.

The joy that emerges from this way of living is not found in consumption, but in connection. It’s the joy of a shared meal, a collective project, a moment of awe in nature. It is not fleeting or hollow. It’s grounded in the rhythms of real life. In resisting the culture of more, we make room for what actually nourishes us.

Solidarity is what makes this kind of joy sustainable. Without solidarity, simplicity becomes privatized and performative. With solidarity, it becomes transformative. Solidarity means recognizing that none of us can be truly free while others are suffering. It means organizing not only for ourselves, but with and for others—workers, debtors, the unhoused, the planet itself. It is in solidarity that we find the courage to say no to extractive systems and yes to mutual care.

Maslow’s model, when viewed through a collective lens, demands that we create conditions where everyone—not just the privileged few—can ascend the ladder toward self-actualization. That means addressing structural violence, not just personal healing. It means challenging the dominance of GDP and the institutions that promote it. And it means building systems that nourish every layer of our shared humanity.

The richest life is not the most expensive or exclusive. It is the most grounded, the most connected, the most free. It is a life where basic needs are met without destroying others’ ability to meet theirs. It is a life where safety comes from community, not surveillance. Where belonging is unconditional. Where esteem is earned not through domination, but through care. Where self-actualization is not an individual escape, but a collective unfolding.

Elite universities, with their resources and visibility, have a responsibility to shift the narrative. They must abandon GDP-driven metrics and begin teaching students how to live and act for collective well-being. That means investing in degrowth, sustainability, and solidarity—not in fossil fuels, consulting firms, and Silicon Valley pipedreams. It means embracing joy, not just success. It means returning to education as a path toward wisdom, not just wealth.

The rich life is here. It is in the soil, the story circle, the union hall, the community fridge, the silent meetinghouse, the protest march, the long walk at dusk. It is in every act that centers sufficiency over supremacy, care over conquest.

Let us stop measuring the wrong things. Let us live lives that matter. Let us be rich in what counts.

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Sources and Influences:
Abraham Maslow, Toward a Psychology of Being
Jason Hickel, Less Is More
bell hooks, All About Love
Juliet Schor, Plenitude
David Graeber and David Wengrow, The Dawn of Everything

How Neoliberalism Haunts Our Lives: 24/7/365

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

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

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The Day Begins: Sleep-Deprived and Algorithmically Watched

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

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

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Education: Credentials Over Knowledge

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

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

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Healthcare: A Business of Despair

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

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

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Housing: A Market, Not a Human Right

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

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

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Work and Labor: You're Always On

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

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

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Nightfall: No Rest for the Weary

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

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

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Resistance in the Cracks

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

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

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The 24/7/365 Trap

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

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

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Sources:

• Wendy Brown, Undoing the Demos

• David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism

• Sarah Jaffe, Work Won’t Love You Back

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

• Astra Taylor, The Age of Insecurity

• Michael Hudson, The Destiny of Civilization

• Maurizio Lazzarato, The Making of the Indebted Man

Did Higher Education Ever Have a Soul? A Response to Frank Bruni

In his New York Times opinion piece, “I’m Watching the Sacrifice of College’s Soul,” Frank Bruni laments the erosion of academic rigor and the rise of artificial intelligence in the college classroom. He worries that students read less, care more about networking, and rely too much on AI to write their papers. And he ties this perceived moral decay to the broader culture war era under a second Trump administration.

But if we are truly asking whether college has lost its soul, the answer lies not just in classroom etiquette, grade inflation, or even AI. These are surface symptoms. The deeper rot goes back much further—and runs much deeper.

In 2025, as student debt surpasses $2 trillion, adjuncts live paycheck to paycheck, and billion-dollar university endowments sit idle amid growing social crises, the question lingers like a ghost in the lecture hall: Did higher education ever have a soul?

Bruni suggests that something noble has been lost. But to mourn a fall from grace assumes there was grace to begin with. It assumes the soul of higher education was once intact—whole, ethical, virtuous. That assumption demands interrogation.

A Soul in Theory
From the founding of Harvard in 1636 to the post-WWII GI Bill expansion, there have always been idealistic threads: Socratic dialogue, liberal education, shared governance, land-grant missions to uplift the working class. Thinkers like John Dewey and W.E.B. Du Bois believed that education could be democratic and emancipatory, a crucible for ethical development and social justice.

But for every Du Bois, there was a Booker T. Washington being positioned to serve capitalism. For every land-grant university, there were extractive relationships with Indigenous lands and communities. For every golden age of college access, there were doors closed to women, Black Americans, and the working poor.

The soul, it seems, has always lived uneasily beside the dollar.

The Neoliberal Turn
In the last half-century, the contradictions have only grown starker. Beginning in the late 1970s and accelerating in the Reagan era, higher education became increasingly privatized, commodified, and financialized. Universities morphed into entrepreneurial corporations, presidents became CEOs, students became customers, and faculty became precarious gig workers. The soul of higher education—if ever there was one—was sold off in pieces. Not in a single transaction, but through thousands of small decisions: outsourcing food services, patenting research, expanding sports empires, launching predatory online programs, partnering with Wall Street, and calling it “innovation.”

Today, we see the results:

For-profit colleges and edtech firms exploiting vulnerable populations.

Public universities chasing out-of-state tuition while abandoning their mission to serve local and working-class communities.

DEI initiatives used as branding while workers on campus remain underpaid, underinsured, and over-policed.

Boards of trustees stacked with bankers, developers, and tech executives more loyal to markets than to mission.

And beyond the classrooms that Bruni mourns, darker truths persist—truths rarely explored in glossy alumni magazines or New York Times op-eds:

Fraternities continue to operate as quasi-criminal enterprises, protected by wealthy alumni and timid administrations. Hazing deaths, sexual assault, racial abuse, and alcohol-fueled violence are treated as unfortunate exceptions, rather than the predictable outcomes of a toxic culture of entitlement and silence.

NCAA football, the crown jewel of many flagship universities, thrives on the unpaid labor of student-athletes whose bodies are sacrificed for weekend entertainment and television contracts. Behind the pageantry lie lifelong injuries, untreated concussions, and a trail of lawsuits over traumatic brain damage—while coaches and athletic directors rake in seven-figure salaries.

These are not footnotes to the story of higher education’s moral decline. They are the story—central to understanding what kind of “soul” has actually animated American higher education for decades.

A Soul in Struggle
Yet to say higher education never had a soul would be to erase the people who have fought—and still fight—for it to matter.

The soul has lived in the pushback: in student protests for civil rights and against apartheid; in hunger strikes for living wages and union recognition; in the quiet resilience of community college faculty who refuse to give up on their students despite impossible workloads and poverty wages. It’s found in the Black campus movements of the 1960s and today, in the labor organizing of adjuncts and graduate students, and in underfunded tribal colleges and HBCUs resisting systemic neglect.

And the soul is alive in critique itself—in those willing to ask not only what students are learning, but why the university exists, who it serves, and who it exploits.

Where Do We Go from Here?
Frank Bruni mourns the death of something noble. But perhaps what’s dying isn’t the soul of higher education—it’s the illusion that the soul was ever fully alive within institutions so deeply enmeshed in money, hierarchy, and exclusion.

If higher education once had a soul, it now lies fragmented—compromised by institutional betrayal, bureaucratic inertia, and a corporate logic that values prestige over people. But to ask whether it ever had a soul is to ask whether the soul resides in institutions at all, or in the people struggling within and against them.

Perhaps we shouldn’t romanticize the past, but neither should we resign ourselves to the present.

The soul of higher education may never have been whole. But it has always been contested. And in that contest—between commerce and conscience, exclusion and liberation, silence and speech—we may yet find the spark to reimagine what education could be.

Because if the university is to be saved, its soul must be fought for—not assumed, and certainly not bought.

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Sources:

• Bruni, Frank. “I’m Watching the Sacrifice of College’s Soul.” New York Times, July 14, 2025.

• U.S. Department of Education. Federal Student Aid Portfolio Summary. https://studentaid.gov/data-center

• The Century Foundation. “The Adjunct Crisis.”

• Flanagan, Caitlin. “Death at a Penn State Fraternity.” The Atlantic, November 2017.

• NPR. “Inside the Secret World of College Fraternities.”

• ESPN. “Concussion Lawsuits and the NCAA.”

• The Chronicle of Higher Education. “How Billion-Dollar Endowments Avoid Spending.”

• The Guardian. “Inside America’s College Debt Machine.”

• American Association of University Professors (AAUP). “Trends in Faculty Employment Status.”

• The Intercept. “EdTech and the Exploitation of Students.”

• Washington Post. “DEI for PR, Not for Pay.”

• Inside Higher Ed. “Boards of Trustees: Who They Really Represent.”

• NLRB Rulings and Union Filings, 2010–2025.

NEA, Trump, and Fascism

At the 2025 National Education Association (NEA) Representative Assembly in Portland, Oregon, the nation’s largest teachers union passed a resolution condemning Donald Trump and aligning itself against what it termed “fascism.” But the resolution went viral for all the wrong reasons—because the NEA misspelled “fascism” twice as “facism.” Critics pounced, and what might have been a serious political statement turned into a national punchline.

The NEA resolution declared that “the members and material resources of NEA must be committed to the defense of the democratic and educational conditions required for the survival of civilization itself” and pledged $3,500 in resources to support education against “facism.” The intent was clear: the union was signaling that Trump and his allies represent a threat to democracy and education. But the message was undermined by the basic literacy failure of the very educators tasked with teaching students how to spell.

The resolution passed in a closed-door session, as part of a growing trend among major unions to explicitly engage in anti-Trump activism. It also included language opposing Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids and called for support of “mass democratic movements” in response to Trump’s possible return to power. Further, the NEA reaffirmed its decision to disaffiliate from the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), citing concerns about the ADL’s stance on policing and Palestine.

The backlash was swift. Conservative pundits and right-wing lawmakers ridiculed the resolution’s spelling errors and denounced its political content as extremist. Representative Jim Walsh called it “hysterical slander” and mocked the NEA’s failure to meet even minimal professional standards. Moms for Liberty co-founder Tina Descovich said the NEA’s mistake exemplifies why many Americans believe public education is failing. Corey DeAngelis, a leading advocate for school choice, declared the situation “too rich to parody.”

The episode lit up right-wing media. The New York Post ran multiple pieces lampooning the union’s politics and literacy. Fox News accused the NEA of pushing a radical political agenda under the guise of professional development. Critics from across the political spectrum asked: how can educators credibly combat fascism if they can’t spell it?

But spelling errors aside, the deeper issue is the NEA’s increasing politicization in an already polarized era. While some educators and progressives cheered the resolution as a necessary stand against authoritarianism, others worried it would damage public trust in the profession and provide more ammunition for anti-union and school privatization forces.

The NEA has long walked a tightrope between its role as a labor union and as a political actor. In the Trump and post-Trump era, that tightrope is fraying. By elevating its political messaging—especially when done sloppily—the NEA risks alienating moderate members, energizing conservative opposition, and undermining its own credibility as a steward of public education.

This latest controversy may not be the NEA’s last misstep in an increasingly volatile political climate. But it is a cautionary tale. To confront genuine threats to democracy and education, unions must do more than pass resolutions. They must build trust, demonstrate competence, and articulate a vision that unites rather than divides. If they can’t even proofread their own declarations, the fight against fascism may start with a dictionary.

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Sources
National Education Association, Resolution NBI 79, 2025 Representative Assembly
New York Post, “Largest US teachers union mocked for misspelling 'fascism' in anti-Trump agenda item,” July 10, 2025
Fox News, “Teachers union reveals true colors behind closed doors at annual convention,” July 11, 2025
The Free Press, “NEA Teachers' Union Goes All In on Politics—And Spelling Errors,” July 11, 2025
WBZ News Radio, “Largest US Teachers Union Misspells ‘Fascism’ While Bashing Trump,” July 11, 2025
Yahoo News, “Social media erupts as nation's largest teachers union misspells 'fascism' in anti-Trump statement,” July 12, 2025

Choosing the Trades: Why Plumbing, HVAC, and Construction Education Can Be a Smart Start—If You Pick the Right Program

As more Americans question the cost and value of traditional college degrees, skilled trades like plumbing, HVAC (heating, ventilation, and air conditioning), and construction are gaining renewed respect. These jobs are essential, often well-paid, and generally shielded from outsourcing and automation. For students, recent graduates, and workers looking to pivot, trade education can be a practical path toward financial stability—but only if you choose your training program carefully.

Not all trade schools and programs are created equal. Some offer affordable, hands-on learning and clear pathways to employment. Others—especially some for-profit institutions—prey on students with inflated job placement claims, high tuition, and subpar instruction. The difference between a legitimate program and a predatory one can shape your entire career.

Strong Demand, Solid Wages

According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), employment for HVAC technicians is projected to grow by 6% between 2022 and 2032. Demand for plumbers and construction laborers remains steady as well. These jobs are not only necessary—they pay fairly well:

• Plumbers earned a median wage of $60,090 in 2023.

• HVAC techs made $51,390.

• Construction laborers earned $45,990, with more for those with specialized skills or union backing.

Some skilled tradespeople eventually launch their own businesses, expanding their income potential. Others join unions, where they may receive higher wages, better job protections, and retirement benefits.

Education Without Massive Debt

One of the biggest advantages of trade education is affordability. Community colleges, union apprenticeships, and some public vocational schools offer programs that cost a fraction of a four-year degree. Many apprenticeships even pay participants as they learn, allowing students to earn a living while gaining skills.

Compare this to the average college graduate, who now leaves school with more than $30,000 in student loan debt, often without a clear path to employment.

But low cost doesn’t always mean good value. Some private trade schools, especially those operating for-profit, charge high tuition for short programs with low completion rates and weak job placement. That’s why prospective students must do their homework.

How to Choose a Quality Program

Before enrolling in a trade school or certification program, consider the following steps:

1. Check Accreditation and Licensing: Make sure the program is recognized by state or regional accreditors and meets licensure requirements for your trade.

2. Look at Completion and Placement Rates: Reputable programs will publish data on how many students finish and get jobs. Be skeptical of vague or overly optimistic claims.

3. Talk to Former Students: Ask graduates about their experiences and whether the training helped them find steady work.

4. Compare Costs: Public programs and union apprenticeships tend to be more affordable than private, for-profit schools. Don’t take out large loans without understanding your likely return on investment.

5. Beware of Pressure Sales Tactics: Legitimate schools won’t rush you into enrolling or make grand promises of guaranteed jobs.

The Risks of Predatory Schools

A 2022 report by the U.S. Government Accountability Office (GAO) found that some for-profit trade schools mislead students about costs and outcomes, while overcharging for low-quality instruction. These institutions often target veterans, immigrants, and low-income students with aggressive marketing.

Under the Biden administration, new Gainful Employment rules and Borrower Defense provisions aim to hold these schools accountable, but oversight can be slow and uneven. Once enrolled and in debt, students have few options for recourse if the program fails them.

A Real Alternative

For those who take the time to research and choose wisely, a trade education can offer something increasingly rare in today’s economy: a stable job, low or no debt, and the chance to build something real—both literally and financially.

Plumbing, HVAC, and construction are not fallback careers. They are vital professions with opportunities for growth, dignity, and independence. As society faces aging infrastructure, rising housing demand, and climate challenges, skilled tradespeople will only become more essential.

For students and jobseekers, the message is clear: You don’t have to go to a four-year college to build a solid future. But you do have to be smart about where and how you get your training.

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Sources:

• U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, Occupational Outlook Handbook (2024)

• National Center for Education Statistics, “Student Loan Debt and Completion Rates” (2023)

• U.S. Government Accountability Office, “Oversight of For-Profit Colleges” (2022)

• National Skills Coalition, “Middle-Skills Jobs and the Labor Market” (2023)

From Public Good to Target of Sabotage: The Long Decline of the U.S. Postal Service

The United States Postal Service (USPS), long a pillar of American public life and a gateway to middle-class stability, is under siege. While Donald Trump’s administration played a pivotal role in accelerating its recent dysfunction, the erosion of the USPS began decades earlier—through bipartisan policy decisions, creeping privatization, technological change, and ideological hostility toward public institutions. The destruction of the USPS is not a moment, but a process. And its consequences are being felt by workers, communities, and the democratic fabric of the country.

A People’s Institution

The USPS has deep roots in American democracy and labor history. Established in 1775 with Benjamin Franklin as its first postmaster general, the service has operated under a mandate of universal delivery, regardless of geography or profitability. It became a vehicle for social and economic mobility—especially for Black Americans, veterans, immigrants, and rural citizens.

For much of the 20th century, the Postal Service was a stable, unionized employer offering family-sustaining wages. Even as industrial jobs declined, USPS employment remained a critical bridge into the middle class, particularly for African Americans. By the early 1980s, the USPS employed nearly 800,000 people—offering pensions, job security, and federal health benefits.

The Turn Toward Privatization and Market Competition

The seeds of decline were planted in the late 20th century with the rise of neoliberal economics and a bipartisan push for government efficiency, austerity, and deregulation.

In 1970, the old Post Office Department was restructured into a semi-independent entity— the U.S. Postal Service—after a massive wildcat postal strike. While the Postal Reorganization Act modernized the institution, it also removed many public-service obligations from congressional oversight, laying the groundwork for future financial manipulation.

Beginning in the 1980s and accelerating in the 1990s, the growth of private carriers like FedEx and UPS—both supported by favorable legislation and lobbying power—ate into USPS’s most profitable markets: overnight and package delivery. Rather than being forced to compete on a level playing field, USPS was legally barred from underpricing private competitors or expanding into new revenue-generating areas like banking or logistics.

Then came the internet. Email, online bill pay, and digital communications began replacing First-Class mail, which historically covered much of the USPS's operating costs. USPS mail volume peaked in 2006 at 213 billion pieces and has declined nearly 40 percent since. In 2024, total mail volume stood at just over 127 billion pieces.

The 2006 PAEA: A Manufactured Crisis

Perhaps the most destructive blow came in 2006 with the Postal Accountability and Enhancement Act (PAEA), passed by a bipartisan Congress and signed by President George W. Bush. The law required USPS to pre-fund 75 years’ worth of retiree health benefits within a 10-year window—a $5.5 billion annual burden not imposed on any other federal agency or private company.

This manufactured debt crisis gave political cover to critics who claimed the Postal Service was financially unsustainable. It also starved the institution of capital needed for modernization, infrastructure, and workforce development. For over a decade, this artificial shortfall served as justification for hiring freezes, facility closures, and service cuts.

Enter Trump: Sabotage with a Smile

By the time Donald Trump took office in 2017, USPS had already been weakened. But Trump weaponized its vulnerabilities for political gain. In 2020, amid a global pandemic and a presidential election that relied heavily on mail-in voting, Trump launched a public attack on the USPS, falsely claiming mail-in ballots were a source of massive voter fraud.

He appointed Louis DeJoy—a logistics executive and Republican megadonor—as Postmaster General. DeJoy’s appointment was rubber-stamped by a Trump-controlled USPS Board of Governors. Under DeJoy, the USPS eliminated overtime, removed sorting machines, slashed delivery routes, and cut post office hours. Predictably, mail delivery slowed, especially in swing states and communities dependent on timely postal service.

The slowdowns weren’t just political—they were material. Seniors reported late medications. Veterans didn’t receive their VA checks. Ballots were delayed. And postal workers were pushed to the brink. In Detroit and Philadelphia, on-time First-Class mail delivery dropped to below 65 percent in the summer of 2020.

Workforce Impact and Labor Erosion

The USPS has lost tens of thousands of jobs since DeJoy’s tenure began. Over 30,000 positions were eliminated between 2021 and 2024. In early 2025, the agency announced plans to cut 10,000 more jobs, many through early retirement. For a workforce that had already endured years of hiring freezes, consolidation, and low morale, these were devastating blows.

Postal unions, including the American Postal Workers Union (APWU) and the National Association of Letter Carriers (NALC), have denounced the cuts as part of a long-term strategy to hollow out the institution and pave the way for privatization.

Service Cuts and a Two-Tier America

As the USPS has weakened, its ability to provide universal service has eroded. In urban centers, lines at post offices have grown longer. In rural America, post offices have been closed or had their hours slashed. Mail delivery has become slower, less reliable, and less equitable. For millions of Americans, especially those in marginalized communities, the erosion of USPS services represents a withdrawal of the federal government from public life.

At the same time, private carriers have expanded their market share—but only where profits justify service. This has created a two-tier system: fast, expensive delivery for the wealthy and corporations; slow, underfunded service for the rest.

The Broader War on Public Infrastructure

What has happened to the U.S. Postal Service is not an isolated story. It is part of a broader neoliberal assault on public institutions and the working class. From public education to public housing, from transit systems to social security offices, the U.S. has seen a systematic hollowing out of civic infrastructure under the banner of "efficiency" and "market competition."

Trump’s actions—both deliberate and reckless—pushed the Postal Service further down a path of institutional decay. But the responsibility lies with decades of policymakers who devalued public service, dismantled regulatory protections, and enabled privatization without accountability.

A Line in the Sand

The USPS remains one of the few institutions that touches nearly every American. It has survived war, depression, technological revolution, and political sabotage. But its future is not guaranteed.

Saving the Postal Service will require not just reversing Trump-era policies, but confronting decades of bipartisan neglect. It will mean repealing harmful laws like the PAEA, investing in modernization, expanding services (like postal banking), and defending postal jobs and unions.

In a time of deep inequality and civic fragmentation, preserving the USPS is about more than mail. It’s about restoring the public good—and remembering that some things should not be for sale.

Sources:

• U.S. Postal Service 2024 Annual Report to Congress

• Bureau of Labor Statistics, Occupational Employment and Wage Statistics

• Congressional Research Service: The Postal Accountability and Enhancement Act

• The Guardian: “USPS mail slowdowns raise fears of election interference”

• AP News: “Trump says he may take control of USPS”

• Business Insider: “Privatization of USPS could harm rural areas”

• Teen Vogue: “The U.S. Postal Service and the Working Class”

• American Postal Workers Union (apwu.org)

As the Wealth Gap Widens, Executive Security Spending Surges

As economic inequality intensifies in the United States, corporate leaders are allocating more resources to personal security. CEOs, board members, and high-ranking executives in multiple sectors—including healthcare, tech, logistics, finance, and higher education—are investing in expanded protective measures in response to growing public anger and incidents like the 2024 assassination of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson by Luigi Mangione.

In 2023, Meta Platforms spent $14 million on CEO Mark Zuckerberg’s personal security. Alphabet spent $5.9 million, Amazon reported $1.6 million, and JPMorgan Chase allocated $1.2 million for CEO protection, according to public filings with the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). These expenditures have risen steadily in recent years. The Institute for Policy Studies reports an 11 percent increase in executive security costs among the top 500 U.S. firms between 2021 and 2023.

The killing of Thompson in December 2024 catalyzed a wave of security upgrades. According to Business Insider, 40 UnitedHealthcare executives hired bodyguards, relocated, or altered travel routines. UnitedHealth later disclosed $1.7 million in new executive security costs, according to STAT News. Analysts and security firms have since labeled the trend the “Luigi effect.”

These developments are not confined to healthcare. Energy, retail, agriculture, and higher education executives are also responding to rising threats—many rooted in public dissatisfaction over price inflation, labor exploitation, and environmental degradation. In higher education, university presidents have increased security in response to student debt protests and adjunct faculty organizing. In logistics, following union drives and layoffs at UPS and Amazon, senior officials enhanced security at warehouses and corporate campuses.

These actions are occurring in a regulatory environment that has shifted in favor of corporate consolidation. The Federal Trade Commission (FTC), under financial and political pressure, has seen a reduction in staffing and enforcement capacity. According to the FTC’s FY2024 budget report, the agency operated with fewer than 1,100 full-time employees—a 20 percent decline from a decade earlier. Congressional budget cuts and increased legal challenges from corporations have further limited the FTC’s ability to investigate and block mergers, enforce antitrust laws, or monitor deceptive corporate practices.

This decline in federal oversight has emboldened monopolistic behavior across industries. It has also allowed firms to suppress labor rights, raise prices, and consolidate control—actions that contribute directly to the growing frustration among workers and consumers. With weakened regulatory agencies and stagnant wages, the perception of impunity among corporate elites has only sharpened public resentment.

The Higher Education Inquirer affirms its commitment to nonviolence. Acts like those carried out by Luigi Mangione are not acceptable responses to injustice. But his case has become a symbolic reference point, signaling how far some individuals may go when democratic tools of accountability are weakened. Escalating security budgets are not just a reaction to individual threats—they are a measurable indicator of social distrust and institutional breakdown.

The solution is not fortification, but reform. Corporate leaders have an opportunity to respond by narrowing executive compensation gaps, supporting collective bargaining, addressing climate and public health impacts, and reducing their influence over regulatory systems. The FTC’s decline is a structural signal, just like the rise in CEO security costs. Both reveal a system drifting further from democratic accountability.

The path forward must be shaped by transparency, public policy, and peaceful resistance. If not, the costs—financial, social, and moral—will continue to rise.

Sources

• U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) Proxy Filings: Meta (2023), Amazon (2023), Alphabet (2023), JPMorgan Chase (2023)

• Business Insider. “UnitedHealthcare Execs Hired Bodyguards After CEO’s Killing.” June 2025

• STAT News. “UnitedHealth Discloses $1.7 Million in Security Costs Post-Murder.” April 2025

• Institute for Policy Studies. Executive Excess 2023

• Federal Trade Commission. “Fiscal Year 2024 Congressional Budget Justification.” https://www.ftc.gov

• Economic Policy Institute. “CEO Pay Has Grown 1,209% Since 1978.” 2023

• Pew Research Center. “Public Trust in Institutions, 2023”

• Chronicle of Higher Education. “Presidents Increase Security Amid Campus Protests.” 2024

• New York Post. “Executives Rush to Boost Security in Wake of ‘Luigi Effect’.” May 2025

HBCUs and Alternative Programs Step Up for Students Affected by Job Corps Cuts

As federal budgetary constraints trigger widespread cuts to the Job Corps program, thousands of young Americans—many from low-income and marginalized backgrounds—are left in limbo, uncertain about their educational and career futures. In response, several Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) and nonprofit training organizations have stepped in to provide pathways forward for these displaced students.

Morris Brown College has emerged as a leader in this emergency response, inviting students affected by the Job Corps shutdowns to apply for admission and continue their education. The college is offering federal financial aid options to eligible students, making the transition more accessible. This initiative aligns with Morris Brown’s ongoing efforts to reestablish itself as a vital access point for underserved communities following its reaccreditation.

Jarvis Christian University and Wiley University, both HBCUs in Texas, have similarly opened their doors to Job Corps students. These institutions have long histories of serving first-generation college students and have extended their outreach to ensure that affected youth can find a welcoming academic home.

Winston-Salem State University in North Carolina is taking a more targeted approach. The university has secured a grant through the Job Corps Scholars program to provide tuition assistance and job training to a select group of students. This model blends academic instruction with practical skills development, creating an effective bridge between high school-level education and gainful employment.

Beyond the HBCU community, national service programs and workforce training initiatives are also mobilizing to fill the void. AmeriCorps offers job training, GED preparation, and education awards that can be used toward college tuition. YouthBuild provides at-risk youth with the opportunity to earn a high school diploma or equivalent while learning construction skills and receiving supportive services like housing assistance.

The Workforce Innovation and Opportunity Act (WIOA), a longstanding federal employment program, connects individuals with training and job placement assistance through local workforce boards. These WIOA programs are especially vital now, helping youth access industry-aligned credentialing programs.

For those looking to bypass traditional college pathways, apprenticeships and union-led training programs offer paid, on-the-job learning in skilled trades. These earn-as-you-learn models remain one of the most reliable routes to middle-class employment without taking on student loan debt.

The National Guard Youth ChalleNGe Program offers another alternative, particularly for students aged 16–18 who are seeking structure, discipline, and a chance to build job and life skills in a quasi-military setting.

Several private-sector and nonprofit initiatives are also stepping into the breach. Grow with Google provides free online certificates in tech-related fields such as data analytics and IT support. SkillsUSA supports students preparing for careers in technical and skilled service sectors, often in tandem with high school or community college programs.

Year Up is a standout nonprofit that offers professional training paired with paid internships in IT, software, and finance. It targets young adults who are not enrolled in school or working, providing a powerful pipeline into white-collar careers. Likewise, Urban Alliance provides internships, mentoring, and work readiness training to high school seniors in underserved communities.

The dismantling of Job Corps centers is a major setback for a federal program that has, for decades, helped vulnerable young people achieve educational and economic stability. But in the absence of federal leadership, community institutions—especially HBCUs—are proving their enduring value. They are not only preserving access to education and training but also strengthening the broader social safety net for America’s forgotten youth.

As this transition unfolds, students and families need to remain vigilant in researching legitimate programs while avoiding scams and predatory for-profit institutions. With thoughtful guidance and continued support, the displaced Job Corps students can still find opportunities to thrive, even in uncertain times.

Sources:
U.S. Department of Labor
Morris Brown College
Winston-Salem State University
AmeriCorps.gov
YouthBuild USA
SkillsUSA
Grow with Google
National Guard Youth ChalleNGe Program
Workforce Innovation and Opportunity Act
Year Up
Urban Alliance

Street Psychology: Working-Class Wisdom in the Age of Neoliberalism and Trump

In the United States of 2025—where neoliberal capitalism and creeping authoritarianism grind down the human spirit—there’s an urgent need for a way of thinking, surviving, and resisting that doesn’t come from think tanks or corporate wellness plans. Street Psychology is that way.

This idea isn't new. It’s an outbreak from earlier projects like Street Sociologist (2009–2012) and American Injustice (2009–2013), digital spaces that chronicled working-class survival under austerity, war, mass incarceration, student loan predation, and the Great Recession. Those projects documented both despair and resistance—voices from the margins that understood the system was not broken but operating as designed. Street Psychology is the next step in that lineage. It names the psychic toll of exploitation and dares to offer tools for survival drawn not from institutions, but from the people themselves.

Street Psychology isn’t a licensed profession or clinical method. It’s a bottom-up philosophy. A way of being that honors grit, grief, memory, and movement. It draws from Black Psychology, Radical Social Work, and the unspoken survival strategies passed down through generations—especially those of the poor, the working class, the dispossessed.

It tells us: you’re not crazy. You’re living in a society that has normalized cruelty.

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Life Under Pressure

In today's America, working people face a perfect storm. Medicaid cuts, climate shocks, unpayable debt, and housing crises are daily facts of life. The Trump regime, emboldened by a Supreme Court that erodes checks and balances, offers little more than political theater and corporate tax breaks. "Law and order" is back—but so are vigilante violence and state repression. In this environment, working-class people are expected to carry on as if nothing is wrong—grinding away at gig jobs, navigating broken transit systems, shouldering invisible pain.

Street Psychology offers no false comfort. It teaches that burnout, anxiety, and despair are not personal failures—they are rational reactions to a system that exploits and isolates. It offers a politics of honesty.

It reminds us that mental health cannot be separated from rent, food, dignity, and debt.

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Lessons from Horror and Triumph

Street Psychology is grounded in history—not the history of presidents and generals, but the people’s history of how folks made it through.

During the Great Depression, when one in four Americans was unemployed, it was mutual aid, union organizing, and government pressure from below that helped form the New Deal—not just FDR’s goodwill. Neighbors shared food. Workers seized factories. Families survived on ingenuity and grit. Street Psychology carries that memory.

During World War II, ordinary people faced rations, displacement, and death on an unprecedented scale. But they also built community resilience. Black Americans moved north and west in the Great Migration, seeking both work and dignity. Women entered the workforce by the millions—not for empowerment branding, but to survive. Trauma was everywhere, but so was collective purpose. Street Psychology remembers that duality.

And in the COVID-19 pandemic, we saw the brutal convergence of economic inequality, medical neglect, and state failure. But we also saw mutual aid networks rise overnight. Grocery workers, nurses, delivery drivers, and custodians became the front line—not billionaires or generals. People created community fridges, distributed masks, and organized rent strikes. Even amid mass death and disinformation, something deeply human survived. Street Psychology draws its oxygen from these moments.

It says: we’ve been through hell before—and we’ve learned how to survive together.

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Radical Roots and Collective Healing

Street Psychology stands on the shoulders of Black radical thinkers like Dr. Na’im Akbar and Dr. Wade Nobles, who taught that psychological liberation requires historical truth and cultural self-determination. It borrows from the Radical Social Worker tradition that insists depression and addiction often emerge from exploitation, not deficiency.

It echoes the voices of those doing hard, dirty, “bullshit jobs,” as David Graeber called them—people whose work is exhausting, precarious, and spiritually deadening. It respects those whose minds and bodies are tired because they’ve been used up. And it says plainly: this is not your fault.

Healing begins with naming the madness.

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A People's Practice

Street Psychology thrives outside institutions. It happens in union halls, kitchens, church basements, food pantries, WhatsApp threads. It takes the form of eye contact, a ride to work, a bag of groceries, a story told without shame. It asks us not to fix ourselves to fit a broken world—but to remember we are not alone in our pain or our power.

It teaches that even in a world of distraction and despair, we can practice presence and solidarity. We can re-learn how to listen, how to mourn, how to laugh in defiance.

This psychology is not neutral. It does not pretend to be apolitical. It stands with those being crushed—by the debt collectors, the landlords, the ICE raids, the fascists in suits. It says: you matter. Your struggle matters. And you're not the only one carrying this weight.

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A Call to Reclaim Our Minds

Street Psychology is not a cure. It is not a self-help manual. It is a collective reckoning. A refusal to be shamed into silence or fragmented into diagnosis. It is the unlicensed, unpolished wisdom of people who’ve lived through hell and still show up for each other.

In the age of Trump, AI surveillance, climate breakdown, and economic betrayal, this might be our best chance: to recover the human, to restore the political, and to reclaim the psychological as a shared terrain.

Let’s build a new commons—not just of resources, but of understanding. Let’s build a psychology that is street-smart, justice-rooted, and history-aware.

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Sources & Influences:

• Akbar, Na’im. Breaking the Chains of Psychological Slavery

• Nobles, Wade. Seeking the Sakhu

• Graeber, David. Bullshit Jobs

• Paulo Freire. Pedagogy of the Oppressed

• Radical Social Worker Collective

• Mutual Aid Disaster Relief

• American Injustice (2009–2013) and Street Sociologist (2009–2012) blog archives

• Historical memory from the Great Depression, WWII home front, and COVID-19 mutual aid networks

• People’s CDC, APA, KFF data on structural causes of psychological distress

Street Psychology lives in those who refuse to forget—and who refuse to give up. If you or your community are practicing this in any form, we want to hear from you.

University of Phoenix Uses “Sandwich Moms” to Sell a Debt Trap

In a recent blog post republished on LinkedIn, the University of Phoenix casts itself as a champion for the “sandwich generation” of working mothers—those who are simultaneously raising children and caring for aging parents. The post, co-branded with the lifestyle platform Motherly, portrays the for-profit university as a source of hope for exhausted, career-stalled caregivers. It offers empathy, statistics, and stories about resilience. But what it doesn’t offer is transparency about the financial harm the University of Phoenix has caused to hundreds of thousands of women just like them.

Behind the compassionate messaging is a decades-long record of exploitation, debt, and broken promises. According to data obtained through Freedom of Information Act requests and analyzed by the Higher Education Inquirer, nearly one million former University of Phoenix students owe a combined $21.6 billion in student loan debt. That includes many single mothers and caregivers who were targeted by Phoenix recruiters with promises of flexible degrees and life-changing job opportunities.

The average borrower carries more than $22,000 in federal student debt, and many have seen little to no return on that investment. Worse, tens of thousands of former students have filed Borrower Defense claims with the U.S. Department of Education, asserting that they were defrauded by the university. At least 19,000 of these claims have already been approved as part of the Sweet v. Cardona class action settlement. Phoenix was one of dozens of schools whose practices were deemed harmful enough to merit loan cancellation.

Despite this troubling history, the University of Phoenix continues to market itself as a solution to the very problems it helps perpetuate. The blog post in question focuses on how caregiving responsibilities are limiting women’s careers and how many moms are afraid to speak openly about their dual roles at work. These are serious and well-documented social issues. But the proposed solution—enrolling in a Phoenix program—too often leads to more financial pressure rather than less.

The Higher Education Inquirer has filed multiple FOIA requests related to the University of Phoenix and its pending acquisition by the University of Idaho through Apollo Global Management and the Vistria Group. These include documents related to the total student debt associated with the university, the volume and status of fraud claims, and protective provisions tied to federal liabilities. Taxpayers in Idaho may soon be responsible for this debt legacy, should the controversial acquisition proceed.

None of this is disclosed in Phoenix’s marketing materials. There is no mention of the $191 million settlement with the Federal Trade Commission for deceptive advertising. There is no reference to the school's declining enrollment, cratering reputation, or the tens of thousands of students who left without a degree. Instead, sandwich generation moms are offered inspiration and vague promises of career advancement through convenient online programs.

But convenience is no substitute for credibility. What mothers need are real systemic supports: paid family leave, affordable childcare and eldercare, union protections, and public investment in affordable education. They don’t need another layer of student loan debt imposed by a university with a well-documented record of exploiting their aspirations.

Phoenix’s message may resonate emotionally, but it is ultimately a predatory sales pitch disguised as empowerment. Until for-profit schools like Phoenix are held fully accountable—and until working families have access to genuine public alternatives—we must remain critical of marketing campaigns that prey on the vulnerable.

Sources
Higher Education Inquirer. “New Data Show Nearly a Million University of Phoenix Debtors Owe $21.6 Billion.” July 2024. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2024/07/new-data-show-nearly-million-university.html
Higher Education Inquirer. “Pending FOIAs Regarding the University of Phoenix.” December 2024. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2024/12/pending-foias-regarding-university-of.html
Federal Trade Commission. “University of Phoenix and Parent Company to Pay $191 Million to Settle FTC Charges.” December 2019. https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2019/12/university-phoenix-parent-company-pay-191-million-settle-ftc-charges-they-deceived-prospective-students
U.S. Department of Education. College Scorecard. https://collegescorecard.ed.gov/