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Sunday, July 20, 2025

Right-Wing Hillsdale College Targeting MSN Readers for Donations

Hillsdale College—a small, private Christian liberal arts institution in Michigan—has increasingly turned to digital advertising, including Microsoft’s MSN platform, to extend its reach and solicit donations. Known for its conservative ideology and its refusal to accept any federal or state funding, Hillsdale is relying more than ever on mass digital engagement to sustain its growing national influence.

Hillsdale sponsors content across digital news aggregators like MSN using native advertising platforms such as Taboola. These sponsored links promote Hillsdale’s free online courses in subjects like the U.S. Constitution and Western political philosophy. Readers who click are typically prompted to provide an email address, after which they are placed into a recurring stream of newsletters and donation appeals. Hillsdale’s marketing strategy combines educational branding with ideological and political themes designed to deepen audience loyalty and increase donor conversion.

The school’s strategy is informed by its unique financial model. Unlike most colleges, Hillsdale accepts no Title IV federal funds and avoids other forms of government support. While this independence allows Hillsdale to circumvent Department of Education oversight, it also necessitates a highly developed fundraising operation. Hillsdale reportedly raises between $100 million and $200 million annually through private donations, which support its growing campus, online educational infrastructure, Imprimis publication, and a national network of affiliated classical charter schools.

Hillsdale’s digital fundraising and brand-building efforts align closely with its broader ideological mission. On February 19, 2025, Turning Point USA founder Charlie Kirk delivered a keynote lecture at Hillsdale’s National Leadership Seminar in Phoenix. Titled “Hitting the Ground Running: The Trump Transition and Early Priorities,” the event illustrated how Hillsdale fuses academic outreach with conservative political messaging. The speech was promoted on Hillsdale’s social media platforms and streamed via its Freedom Library website.

[Charlie Kirk speaks at Hillsdale College in February 2025.] 

Hillsdale’s collaboration with platforms like MSN reflects a wider shift in how politically-aligned institutions use digital media ecosystems to bypass traditional gatekeepers. Because MSN blends sponsored content into its main news feed using algorithmic curation, promotional material from ideological institutions can appear alongside conventional journalism—without the benefit of editorial transparency or disclaimers. For Hillsdale, this means access to millions of readers, many of whom may not realize they’re engaging with sponsored political content masked as civic education.

This convergence of ideology, education, and marketing raises critical questions about the future of higher education outreach and the role of big tech platforms in shaping political narratives. Hillsdale’s success in these spaces underscores how easily lines between education, influence, and revenue can blur in the digital age.

Sources
https://online.hillsdale.edu/courses/promo/constitution-101
https://freedomlibrary.hillsdale.edu/programs/national-leadership-seminar-phoenix-arizona/hitting-the-ground-running-the-trump-transition-and-early-priorities
https://about.ads.microsoft.com/en/solutions/ad-products-formats/display
https://www.hillsdale.edu/about/frequently-asked-questions/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hillsdale_College
https://imprimis.hillsdale.edu
https://www.facebook.com/hillsdalecollegemichigan/posts/livestream-today-1000-pm-et-watch-charlie-kirks-speech-hitting-the-ground-runnin/905074171834140


To compare is to despair

"Comparison is the thief of joy." —often attributed to Theodore Roosevelt, and weaponized daily by the digital world we live in.

In an age of filtered feeds and performance metrics, comparison is no longer a passing emotion—it’s a way of life. For people raised with smartphones and social platforms, the pressure to measure up has become both ambient and acute. “To compare is to despair” is more than a caution—it’s a diagnosis. And it’s quietly devastating a generation’s mental health, self-worth, and trust in institutions like higher education.

Documentary filmmaker Lauren Greenfield has been chronicling this culture of status anxiety for decades, from The Queen of Versailles to Generation Wealth. In her latest docuseries, Social Studies, she turns her lens toward teenagers navigating school, relationships, and identity—all through the distorting lens of the internet. In a media-saturated world, Greenfield argues, comparison has shifted from a social quirk to a psychological crisis. Teenagers now compare their lives not just with classmates or neighbors, but with curated content from the global elite, influencers, and AI-polished strangers. What Greenfield captures is the raw vulnerability of growing up under digital surveillance—the feeling that you’re never doing enough, never owning enough, never being enough.

This manufactured inadequacy bleeds directly into higher education. Universities don’t just market degrees; they market lifestyles, futures, identities. The elite college brochure is a fantasy of rooftop gardens, tech internships, and backpacking trips between semesters. Meanwhile, the lived reality for many students is debt, stress, food insecurity, and academic burnout. But even that struggle becomes content, aestheticized into productivity vlogs or “study with me” videos that offer a sanitized glimpse of chaos. In today’s world, even your suffering must be marketable.

Social media didn’t invent comparison culture, but it mechanized it. Platforms are built on engagement, and nothing engages like insecurity. You see the roommate who lands a six-figure tech job before graduation. You watch influencers turn their gap years into brands. You internalize their wins as your losses. This algorithmic envy operates in real time and at scale, colonizing your attention and monetizing your despair.

Comedy shows like The Daily Show have long satirized this trap, poking fun at everything from the elite college admissions racket to the corporate-speak of “personal branding.” In one segment, a correspondent joked that “success” now means optimizing yourself for LinkedIn before you’ve even figured out who you are. That’s the punchline of the meritocracy myth: you’re told that everything is possible if you just work hard enough—while quietly being outpaced by generational wealth, legacy admissions, and curated advantage.

Meanwhile, musical artists like Social Studies echo the emotional toll. Their lyrics speak to the distance between who we are and who we’re performing to be. That split—the psychological tension between self and spectacle—is the breeding ground of despair. It’s not just that others seem to be doing better; it’s that we no longer trust what “better” even means.

Higher education plays its part. Universities now sell the dream of transformation while enforcing systems of stratification. Your college isn’t just where you study—it becomes your brand, your future network, your worth. And when so much of that promise turns out to be hollow—when the degree doesn’t lead to stability, when the tuition bill becomes a lifelong debt—you don’t just feel disappointed. You feel defective. The system tells you the problem is you.

But the problem is structural. Comparison thrives in systems built on scarcity and spectacle. When there aren’t enough good jobs, enough affordable housing, enough room at the top, we’re trained to compete with each other rather than question the game. Greenfield’s work reminds us that these systems aren’t accidental—they’re profitable. In Social Studies, young people live their lives on screen while corporations harvest their data and self-esteem. The comparison economy runs on your insecurity.

To opt out—however imperfectly—is a quiet revolution. That might mean logging off. Or choosing a slower, less “optimized” path. Or resisting the urge to measure your value against someone else’s performance. Or just remembering that most of what you see is only half true. It might mean treating your own life not as a résumé or content stream, but as something real, worthy, and complex.

To compare is to despair. But to recognize comparison for what it is—a system, not a truth—is a first step toward something else.

Sources
Lauren Greenfield, Social Studies, FX / Hulu, 2024
Greenfield, Interview with Interview Magazine, 2024
“Social Media Swallowed Gen Z,” Wired, 2024
The Daily Show, segments on education and meritocracy
Social Studies, “Wind Up Wooden Heart,” 2010
Patricia Greenfield, Cultural Psychology and Individualism, UCLA
The Higher Education Inquirer archives

Saturday, July 19, 2025

Language in the Age of Fascist Politics (Henry Giroux)

In the age of expanding fascism, the power of language is not only fragile but increasingly threatened. As Toni Morrison has noted, “language is not only an instrument through which power is exercised,” it also shapes agency and functions as an act with consequences. These consequences ripple through the very fabric of our existence. For in the words we speak, meaning, truth, and our collective future are at risk. Each syllable, phrase, and sentence becomes a battleground where truth and power collide, where silence breeds complicity, and where justice hangs in the balance.

In response, we find ourselves in desperate need of a new vocabulary, one capable of naming the fascist tide and militarized language now engulfing the United States. This is not a matter of style or rhetorical flourish; it is a matter of survival. The language required to confront and resist this unfolding catastrophe will not come from the legacy press, which remains tethered to the very institutions it ought to expose. Nor can we turn to the right-wing media machines, led by Fox News, where fascist ideals are not just defended but paraded as patriotism. 

In the face of this crisis, Toni Morrison’s insight drawn from her Nobel Lecture becomes all the more urgent and makes clear that the language of tyrants, embodied in the rhetoric, images, and modes of communication characteristic of the Trump regime, is a dead language. For her “a dead language is not simply one that is no longer spoken or written,” it is unyielding language “content to admire its own paralysis.” It is repressive language infused with power, censored and censoring. Ruthless in its policing duties and dehumanizing language, it has no desire or purpose other than maintaining the free range of its own narcotic narcissism, its own exclusivity and dominance. “Though moribund, it is not without effect” for it actively thwarts the intellect, stalls conscience, and “suppresses human potential.” Unreceptive to interrogation, it cannot form or tolerate new ideas, shape other thoughts, tell another story, or fill baffling silences. This is the language of official power whose purpose is to sanction ignorance and preserve. 

Beneath its glittering spectacle and vulgar performance, lies a language that is "dumb, predatory, sentimental." It offers mass spectacles, a moral sleepwalking state of mind, and a psychotic infatuation for those who seek refuge in unchecked power. It forges a community built on greed, corruption, and hate, steeped in a scandal of hollow fulfillment. It is a language unadorned in its cruelty and addiction to creating an architecture of violence. It is evident in Trump’s discourse of occupation, his militarizing of American politics, and in his use of an army of trolls to turn hatred into a social media spectacle of swagger and cruelty.



Despite differing tones and political effects, the discourses of the far right and the liberal mainstream converge in their complicity: both traffic in mindless spectacle, absorb lies as currency, and elevate illusion over insight. The liberal mainstream drapes the machinery of cruelty in the language of civility, masking the brutality of the Trump regime and the predatory logic of gangster capitalism, while the far right revels in it, parading its violence as virtue and its hatred as patriotism. Language, once a powerful instrument against enforced silence and institutional cruelty, now too often serves power, undermining reason, normalizing violence, and replacing justice with vengeance. 

In Trump’s oligarchic culture of authoritarianism, language becomes a spectacle of power, a theater of fear crafted, televised, and performed as a civic lesson in mass indoctrination. If language is the vessel of consciousness, then we must forge a new one--fierce, unflinching, and unafraid to rupture the fabric of falsehood that sustains domination, disposability, and terror. The late famed novelist, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, was right in stating that “language was a site of colonial control,” inducting people into what he called “colonies of the mind.”

The utopian visions that support the promise of a radical democracy and prevent the dystopian nightmare of a fascist politics are under siege in the United States. Increasingly produced, amplified and legitimated in a toxic language of hate, exclusion, and punishment, all aspects of the social and the democratic values central to a politics of solidarity are being targeted by right-wing extremists. In addition, the institutions that produce the formative cultures that nourishes the social imagination and democracy itself are now under attack. The signposts are on full display in a politics of racial and social cleansing that is being fed by a white nationalist and white supremacist ideology that is at the centre of power in the US—marked by fantasies of exclusion accompanied by a full-scale attack on morality, reason, and collective resistance rooted in democratic struggle. 

As more people revolt against this dystopian project, neoliberal ideology and elements of a fascist politics merge to contain, distract and misdirect the anger that has materialised out of legitimate grievances against the government, controlling privileged elites and the hardships caused by neoliberal capitalism. The current crisis of agency, representation, values and language demands a discursive shift that can call into question and defeat the formative culture and ideological scaffolding through which a savage neoliberal capitalism reproduces itself. This warped use of language directly feeds into the policies of disposability that define Trump's regime.

State Terror and Trump’s Politics of Disposability

As Trump’s regime concentrates power, he invokes a chilling convergence of law, order, and violence, a cornerstone of his politics of disposability. His acts of cruelty and lawlessness, abducting and deporting innocent people, branding immigrants as “vermin,” claiming they are “poisoning the blood” of Americans, and even proposing the legalization of murder for twelve hours, make clear that his violent metaphors are not just rhetorical flourishes. They are policy blueprints. In Trump’s hands, rhetoric becomes a weaponized prelude to atrocity, a tool of statecraft. Threats, hatred, and cruelty are transformed into instruments of governance.

This is not careless talk, it is a brutal and calculated expression of power. Trump’s threats to arrest and deport critics such as Zohran Mamdani reveal his willingness to use the machinery of the state for political extermination. His targets are predictable: immigrants, Black people, educators, journalists, LGBTQ+ individuals, and anyone who dares to challenge his white Christian nationalist, neoliberal, and white supremacist vision. His language does not merely offend, it incites harm, enacts repression, and opens the gates to state-sanctioned violence. It extends the reign of terror across the United States by labeling protesters as terrorists and deploying the military to American cities, treating them as if they were “occupied territories.” 

Trump is not alone. Many of his MAGA follower use these same hateful discourse. For instance, conservative pundit Ann Coulter wrote “in response to a speech by Melanie Yazzie, a Native artist and professor, about decolonization, “We didn’t Kill enough Indians.” This is not simply harsh rhetoric; nor is it a performative display of emboldened hatred and historical forgetting, it sets the stage for state-sanctioned repression and mass violence. What is at stake is more than civic respect. It is democracy itself. When language loses meaning and truth is blurred, tyranny thrives. Trump’s and too much of MAGA discourse is not about persuasion; it is about dehumanization and domination. It functions as statecraft, laying the groundwork for a society where suffering becomes spectacle and repression masquerades as law and order. Language is the canary in the coal mine, warning us that democracy dies without an informed citizenry.

As Eddie Glaude Jr. has powerfully argued, Americans must confront a brutal truth: the creation and expansion of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), now the largest federal law enforcement agency, is not merely a matter of policy, it is a cornerstone of white supremacy. It is a racist institution, entrenched in an immigration policy designed to uphold the values of white nationalism. In the face of shifting demographics, ICE is tasked with an urgent mission—to make America white again, a calculated attempt to turn back the clock on progress, to preserve an imagined past at the cost of justice and humanity.

We now live in a country where class and racial warfare both at home and abroad is on steroids, exposing the killing machine of gangster capitalism in its rawest, most punitive form. Trump supports the genocidal war waged by a state led by a war criminal. Children are being slaughtered in Gaza. Millions of Americans, including poor children, teeter on the edge of losing their healthcare. Funds for feeding hungry children are being slashed, sacrificed to feed the pockets of the ultra-rich. Thousands will die, not by accident, but by design. Terror, fear, and punishment have replaced the ideals of equality, freedom, and justice. Childcide is now normalized as the law of the land. The lights are dimming in America, and all that remains are the smug, ignorant smirks of fascist incompetence and bodies drained of empathy and solidarity.

Gangster Capitalism and the Death of Empathy

Gangster capitalism lays the foundation for Trump’s racist and fascist politics. As I have noted elsewhere, the United States has descended into a state of political, economic, cultural, and social psychosis, where cruel, neoliberal, democracy-hating policies have prevailed since the 1970s. At the core of this authoritarian shift lies a systemic war on workers, youth, Blacks, and immigrants, increasingly marked by mass violence and a punishing state both domestically and internationally. The U.S. has transformed into an empire dominated by a callous, greedy billionaire class that has dismantled any remnants of democracy, while embracing the fascistic ideology of white Christian nationalism and white supremacy. Fascism now parades not only beneath the flag but also under the Christian cross. 

America has shifted from celebrating unchecked individualism, as depicted in Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged, to the glorification of greed championed by Gordon Gekko in Wall Street, and the psychotic avarice of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. This descent into barbarity and psychotic infatuation with violence is further demonstrated by Justin Zhong, a right-wing preacher at Sure Foundation Baptist Church in Indianapolis, who called for the deaths of LGBTQ+ individuals during a sermon. Zhong defended his comments by citing biblical justifications and labeling LGBTQ+ people as "domestic terrorists." 

It gets worse. During a Men’s Preaching Night at Sure Foundation Baptist Church, Zhong's associate, Stephen Falco, suggested that LGBTQ+ people should "blow yourself in the back of the head," and that Christians should "pray for their deaths." Another member, Wade Rawley, advocated for violence, stating LGBTQ+ individuals should be "beaten and stomped in the mud" before being shot in the head. Fascism in America, nourished by the toxic roots of homophobia, now cloaks itself not just in the poisonous banner of the Confederate flag, but also in the sacred guise of the Christian cross.

Welcome to Trump’s America, where empathy is now viewed as a weakness and the cold rule of the market is the template for judging all social relations. One noted example can be found in the words of Trump’s on-and-off billionaire ally, Elon Musk, who dismisses empathy as a naive and detrimental force that undermines the competitive, individualistic ethos he champions. Speaking to Joe Rogan on his podcast, Musk specifically stated that “The fundamental weakness of western civilization is empathy.” As Julia Carrie Wong observes in The Guardian, the stakes extend far beyond casting empathy as a "parasitic plague." Empathy's true danger lies in its role as an enabler—granting permission to dehumanize others and constricting the very “definition of who should be included in a democratic state.” This is a recipe for barbarism, one that allows both states and individuals to turn a blind eye to the genocidal violence unfolding in Gaza and beyond.

Naming the Deep Roots of the Police State

Ruth Ben-Ghiat has warned that “America has been set on a trajectory to become a police state,” pointing to the passage of the Brutal and Bellicose Bill (BBB), which handed ICE a budget larger than the militaries of Brazil, Israel, and Italy combined. But the roots of this state violence go deeper. The foundation was laid under Bush and Cheney, whose war on terror birthed Guantanamo, Abu Ghraib, mass surveillance, and extraordinary rendition. What Trump has done is strip these earlier authoritarian practices of all pretenses, elevating them to the status of governing principles.

The police state did not begin with Trump; it evolved through him. Now, we see its terrifying maturity: racial cleansing disguised as immigration policy, hatred normalized as political speech, dissent criminalized, birthright citizenship threatened, and everyday life militarized. This is not politics as usual, it is fascism in real time.

Trump’s fascist politics grows even more dangerous when we recognize that his language of colonization and domination has helped transform American society into what Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o chillingly describes as a “war zone.” This war zone now spans the digital terrain—through the internet, podcasts, social media, and educational platforms—becoming a fertile breeding ground for fascist symbols, reactionary values, manufactured identities, and the toxic resurrection of colonial logics. In this battleground of meaning, the language of colonization does more than obscure the truth—it erodes critical thinking, silences historical memory, and disarms the very possibility of empowered agency. What remains in its wake is a nation scarred by suffering, haunted by loneliness, bound by shared fears, and anesthetized by the numbing rituals of a punishing state.

The transformation of America into a war zone finds its most visible expression in the rise of Trump’s omnipresent police state. This authoritarian machinery reveals itself through the mechanisms of state-sponsored terror, a heavily militarized ICE force operating like masked enforcers, and the rapid expansion of detention centers that will increasingly resemble a network of potential forced labor camps. As Fintan O’Toole warns, Trump’s deployment of troops onto the streets of Los Angeles is not merely symbolic—it is “a training exercise for the army, a form of reorientation.” In this reorientation, soldiers are no longer defenders of the Constitution but are being retrained as instruments of authoritarian power, bound not by democratic ideals but by obedience to a singular will.

Nevertheless, we resist or refuse to name the fascist threat and the ideological and economic architecture of its politics. Still, we recoil from calling the Trump regime what it is: a fascist state engaged in domestic terrorism. Still, we remain blind to the fact that economic inequality, global militarism, and the genocidal logics of empire are not peripheral issues, they are the center. Why is it so difficult to admit that we are living in an age of American fascism? Why do the crimes of the powerful, at home and abroad, so often pass without scrutiny, while the victims are blamed or erased?

The Collapse of Moral Imagination

What we face is not only a political crisis, partly in the collapse of conscience and civic courage-- a profound moral collapse. The war being waged at home by the Trump regime is not just against immigrants or the poor, it is a war on critical thought, on historical memory, on the courage to dissent. It is a war on every institution that upholds critical thinking, informed knowledge, and civic literacy. This is a genocidal war against the very possibility of a just future—a war not merely against, but for stupidity, for the death of morality, and for the annihilation of any robust notion of democracy. Viktor Klemperer, in his seminal work The Language of the Third Reich, offers a crucial lesson from history: "With great insistence and a high degree of precision right down to the last detail, Hitler’s Mein Kampf teaches not only that the masses are stupid, but that they need to be kept that way, intimidated into not thinking." Klemperer’s analysis reveals that Nazi politics did not arise in a vacuum; it was cultivated in a culture where language itself was the breeding ground of cruelty and control.

Trump’s rhetoric of fear, racial hatred does not emerge in a vacuum. It resonates because it taps into a long and violent history, a history soaked in blood, built on genocide, slavery, colonialism, and exclusion. His language recalls the genocidal campaigns against Indigenous peoples, Black Americans, Jews, and others deemed disposable by authoritarian regimes. It is a necrotic lexicon, resurrected in service of tyranny. It gives birth to politicians with blood in their mouths, who weaponize nostalgia and bigotry, cloaking brutality in the false promises of patriotism and “law and order.”

Language as War and the Return of Americanized Fascism

This is not merely a rhetoric of cruelty, it is a call to arms. Trump’s words do not simply shelter fascists; they summon them. They silence dissent, normalize torture, and echo the logic of death camps, internment camps, and mass incarceration. His discourse, laden with hatred and lies, is designed to turn neighbors into enemies, civic life into war, and politics into a death cult and zone of terminal exclusion. Undocumented immigrants, or those seeking to register for green cards or citizenship, are torn from their families and children, cast into prisons such as Alligator Alcatraz, a grotesque manifestation of the punishing state. As Melissa Gira Grant writes in The New Republic, it is "an American concentration camp…built to cage thousands of people rounded up by ICE," constructed in a chilling display of colonial disregard, and erected on traditional Miccosukee land without so much as consulting the Tribe.

This is the face of modern cruelty: language wielded as a tool to orchestrate a spectacle of violence, designed to degrade, divide, and erase. Culture is no longer a peripheral force in politics; it has become the central weapon in the rise of state terrorism. The language of war and complicity normalizes America’s transformation into a monstrous carceral state, a symbol of state-sponsored terror where due process is suspended, and suffering is not just an outcome but the point itself. 

A culture of cruelty now merges with state sponsored racial terror, functioning as a badge of honor. One example is noted in Trump advisor Laura Loomer, who ominously remarked that "the wild animals surrounding President Donald Trump’s new immigration detention center… will have 'at least 65 million meals." Change.org, along with others such as Pod Save America co-host Tommy Vietor, noted that her comment “is not only racist, it is a direct emotional attack and veiled threat against Hispanic communities. This kind of speech dehumanizes people of color and normalizes genocidal language.” Her racist remark not only reveals the profound contempt for human life within Trump's inner circle but also highlights how cruelty and violence are strategically used as both a policy tool and a public spectacle. Loomer’s remark is not an aberration, it is a symptom of the fascist logic animating this administration, where death itself becomes a political message. Her blood-soaked discourse if symptomatic of the criminogenic politics fundamental to the working of the Trump regime.

The parallels to history are unmistakable. Loomer’s invocation of death as the outcome of detention recalls the Nazi designation of certain camps as Vernichtungslager, extermination camps, where as Holocaust survivor Primo Levi noted, imprisonment and execution were inseparable. Likewise, the U.S. internment of Japanese Americans during World War II, though often sanitized in public memory, operated under a similar logic of racial suspicion and collective punishment. The message in each case is clear, as Judith Butler has noted in her writing: some lives are rendered invisible, deemed unworthy of legal protection, of family, of dignity, of life itself. In fascist regimes, such spaces function not only as instruments of punishment but as symbolic theaters of power, meant to instill terror, enforce obedience, and declare which bodies the state has marked for erasure.

For Trump, J.D. Vance, and their ilk, fascism is not a specter to be feared but a banner to be waved. The spirit of the Confederacy and the corpse-like doctrines of white supremacy, militarism, and neoliberal authoritarianism have returned, this time supercharged by surveillance technologies, financial capital, and social media echo chambers. In the spirit of the Trump regime, the symbols of the Confederacy are normalized. Confederate flags are now waved by neo-Nazis in public squares and parades, while Trump renames US warships and 7 military bases after Confederate officers, reinforcing a dangerous nostalgia for a past rooted in racism and rebellion against the very ideals of unity and equality that this nation claims to uphold.

Higher Education and the Fight Against Authoritarianism

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It should not surprise us that the American public has grown numb with the constant echo chamber of state terrorism playing out in multiple sites of attack. Powerful disimagination machines, mainstream media, right-wing propaganda platforms, tech billionaires, have flooded public consciousness with conspiracy theories, historical amnesia, and spectacularized images of immigrants and others being deported to prisons, foreign Gulags, and modern day black holes. These are not simply entertainment outlets; they are pedagogical weapons of mass distraction, breeding civic illiteracy and moral paralysis. Under their influence, the American people have been placed in a moral and political coma.

White Nationalism and Reproductive Control

Nowhere is this more evident than in the mainstream media’s failure to address the racial and ideological foundations of Trump’s agenda. His attacks on Haitian immigrants, the travel ban on seven African countries, the shutting down of refugee programs, and his open-door policy for white Afrikaners from South Africa are not merely racist; they are explicitly white nationalist. The same ideology drives attacks on women’s reproductive rights, revealing the deep racial and gender anxieties of a movement obsessed with white demographic decline. These are not isolated skirmishes, they are interconnected strategies of domination.

These converging assaults, white nationalism, white supremacy, patriarchal control, and militarized life, manifest most vividly in the war on reproductive freedom. White nationalists encourage white women to reproduce, to hold back demographic change, while punishing women of color, LGBTQ+ people, and the poor. It is a violent calculus, animated by fantasies of purity and control.

The Systemic Assault on Democracy

This is a full-spectrum assault on democracy. Every act of cruelty, every racist law, every violent metaphor chips away at the social contract. A culture of authoritarianism is now used to demean those considered other, both citizens and non-citizens, critics and immigrants, naturalized citizens and those seeking such status. They are labeled as unworthy of citizenship now defined by the Trump regime as a privilege rather than a right. Meanwhile, a media ecosystem built on clickbait and erasure renders both such fascists as legitimate while making invisible the roots of suffering mass suffering and fear, all the while, turning oppression into spectacle and silence into complicity.

In this fog, language itself is emptied of meaning. Truth and falsehood blur. As Paulo Freire warned, the tools of the oppressor are often adopted by the oppressed. We now see that the logic of fascism has seeped into the culture, eroding civic sensibility, destroying moral imagination, and rendering resistance almost unspeakable.

The Normalization of Tyranny

Trump’s authoritarian fantasies do not alienate his base, they galvanize it. What was once unthinkable is now policy. What was once fringe has become mainstream. Cruelty is not something to be deplored and avoided at all costs, it is a central feature of power, wielded with theatrical and spectacularized brutality. Under the current acting ICE Director, Todd Lyons, this punitive logic has intensified: Lyons oversees a $4.4 billion Enforcement and Removal Operations apparatus staffed by over 8,600 agents across 200 domestic locations, using militarized tactics, surprise raids, and aggressive targeting of immigrant communities to sustain a regime of fear. ICE’s presence is at the heart of Trump’s hyper-police state, and its funding has been greatly expanded to $170 billion under Trump’s new budget bill, creating what journalist Will Bunch calls Trump’s “own gulag archipelago of detention camps across a United States that’s becoming increasingly hard to recognize.”

Meanwhile, figures like Tom Homan, who led ICE under Trump’s first term, laid the groundwork with Gestapo-style operations, midnight raids, family separations, and public declarations that undocumented immigrants “should be afraid”. As the “border tzar” under Trump, Homan has initiated deportation policies that are even more aggressively violent and cruel that those that took place in Trump’s first term as president. As Bunch notes, take the case of “the 64-year-old New Orleans woman, Donna Kashanian, who fled a tumultuous Iran 47 years ago, volunteered to rebuild her battered Louisiana community after Hurricane Katrina, never missed a check-in with U.S. immigration officials , and was snatched by ICE agents in unmarked vehicles while she was out working in her garden and sent to a notorious detention center.” These horror stories now take place daily in cities extending from Los Angeles to Providence, Rhode Island.

A central player in this current regime of state terrorism, systemic racism, mass abductions, deportations, and the criminalization of dissent is Stephen Miller, Trump’s White House Deputy Chief of Staff. During Trump’s first term, Miller was the driving force behind the Muslim ban, the family separation policy, and assaults on birthright citizenship, all rooted in an unapologetic white supremacist and eugenicist worldview. In Trump’s second term, he has emerged as the architect of even more draconian measures, pushing for mass deportations, the abolition of birthright citizenship, and the revocation of naturalized citizenship for those who fall outside his white Christian vision of who deserves to be called American.

Far-right white nationalist such as Miller, Tom Homan and Todd Lyons, do not treat cruelty as a regrettable side effect. For them, cruelty is the currency of power. Suffering becomes a spectacle, and violence a ritual of statecraft. Tyranny is not inching forward in silence; it is advancing at full speed, cheered on by those who treat fear as a governing principle and pain as public policy. At stake here is what Timothy Snyder calls the practice of fascist dehumanization.

This is not a passing storm. It is the death throes of a system that has long glorified violence, commodified everything, and fed on division. Trump’s language is not a performance, it is preparation. His words are laying the foundation for a society without empathy, without justice, without democracy.

Reclaiming the Language of Resistance, Reclaiming Democracy

In a decent society, language is the lifeblood of democracy, a vessel of solidarity, truth, and hope. But in Trump’s America, language has become a weapon, dehumanizing, excluding, and dominating. His vision is not a warning; it is a blueprint. We must resist, or we risk losing everything. The stakes are nothing less than the survival of democracy, the retrieval of truth and the refusal to live in a world where cruelty is policy and silence is complicity. 

What is needed now is not only a rupture in language but a rupture in consciousness, one that brings together the critical illumination of the present with a premonitory vision of what lies ahead if fascist dynamics remain unchecked. As Walter Benjamin insisted, we must cultivate a form of profane illumination, a language that disrupts the spectacle of lies and names the crisis in all its violent clarity. At the same time, as A.K. Thompson argues, we must grasp the future implicit in the present. His notion of premonitions urges us to read the events unfolding around us as urgent warnings, as signs of the catastrophe that awaits if we do not confront and reverse the political and cultural paths we are on. It demands that we see the connections that bind our suffering, rejecting the fragmented reality that neoliberalism forces upon us. 

The time for complacency is past. The time for a new and more vibrant language, one of critique, resistance, and militant hope, is now. A language capable not only of indicting the present but of envisioning a future rooted in justice, memory, and collective struggle.

As Antonio Gramsci remarked in his Prison Notebooks, "The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear." What is clear is that these morbid symptoms have arrived. Yet, alongside the despair they breed, they also present new challenges and opportunities for revitalized struggles. This is where the power of language comes into play—this is the challenge and opportunity for those who believe in the transformative power of culture, language, and education to address not just the nature of the crisis but its deeper roots in politics, memory, agency, values, power, and democracy itself.

[This article first appeared in the LA Progressive.]


By Henry A. Giroux

Henry A. Giroux currently holds the McMaster University Chair for Scholarship in the Public Interest in the English and Cultural Studies Department and is the Paulo Freire Distinguished Scholar in Critical Pedagogy. His latest book is The Burden of Conscience: Educating Beyond the Veil of Silence (Bloomsbury in 2025). He is LA Progressive's Associate Editor. His website is www.henryagiroux.com

From EdTech Darling to Distressed Asset — A Post-Bankruptcy Autopsy

The fall of 2U, once a poster child of education technology innovation, is a cautionary tale for investors, policymakers, and students alike. After riding a wave of optimism in the online education bo-m, the company declared Chapter 11 bankruptcy in mid-2024, emerging weeks later as a privately held firm now controlled by distressed asset investors. While many of the company’s top executives have been replaced or reshuffled, the story is far from over—and the damage done to public trust in university–edtech partnerships remains.

Founded in 2008 and based in Lanham, Maryland, 2U positioned itself as a premier Online Program Manager (OPM), contracting with top-tier universities to run their online degree programs. By 2019, the company was a billion-dollar operation, boasting partnerships with USC, Georgetown, and Yale. But cracks began to show as questions about cost, transparency, student outcomes, and aggressive recruiting practices became harder to ignore.

By 2023, 2U was bleeding cash, facing multiple lawsuits, regulatory scrutiny, and plummeting investor confidence. The final blow came when the company defaulted on over $450 million in debt. In July 2024, 2U entered and quickly exited Chapter 11 bankruptcy through a pre-packaged deal. The result: 2U is now a private company, with ownership largely transferred to distressed debt investors—Mudrick Capital Management, Greenvale Capital, and Bayside Capital (an affiliate of H.I.G. Capital).

These firms are known not for a commitment to education but for expertise in distressed asset recovery and aggressive restructuring. Mudrick Capital, for instance, made headlines for its role in the AMC “meme stock” frenzy. Bayside Capital has long operated in the shadows of high-risk debt markets, favoring fast-moving deals in stressed financial environments. Greenvale Capital, a lesser-known but analytically rigorous hedge fund, rounds out the group.

Following the takeover, 2U appointed Kees Bol as its new CEO and installed Brian Napack—a veteran of the education sector and former CEO of Wiley—as Executive Chairman of the Board. Whether this new leadership can turn 2U around remains unclear. For now, they are signaling a pivot toward non-degree credentials and corporate upskilling markets, away from costly master’s degree programs that saddled students with debt and poor returns.

But 2U’s shift is not merely a business story. Its implosion exposes broader flaws in the higher education–tech ecosystem. OPMs like 2U operated in a legal gray area, exploiting Title IV federal student aid without direct regulatory oversight. Critics, including lawmakers and consumer protection advocates, argue that these firms served more as enrollment mills than academic partners. The Department of Education’s efforts to rein in the industry through “bundled services” guidance and potential Gainful Employment rules came too late to prevent massive financial fallout.

The universities that partnered with 2U are also complicit. Many ceded control of curriculum design, admissions, and marketing to a for-profit company in exchange for a share of the revenue. In doing so, they risked their reputations—and in some cases, knowingly funneled students into programs with dubious value. These relationships, many of which are still active, should now be reexamined in light of 2U’s restructuring.

Students who enrolled in these programs, often with the promise of career advancement and elite credentials, are left with debt and degrees that may not deliver the expected return. As 2U retools its strategy under the control of financial firms, it's unclear whether these students—or future ones—will benefit at all.

Meanwhile, the venture capitalists and financial engineers behind the scenes have already cashed out or secured their positions in the restructured entity. Like so many stories in the for-profit education sector, 2U’s downfall was not just predictable—it was profitable for those who knew how to play the system.

Have you worked with 2U—or been affected by it?

The Higher Education Inquirer is continuing its investigation into 2U and the wider online program management (OPM) industry. If you are a former or current employee of 2U, Trilogy Education, EdX, or a related company, a university staff or faculty member who collaborated with 2U, a student or graduate of a 2U-powered program, a marketing contractor, admissions specialist, or vendor affiliated with 2U or its partners, or someone with knowledge of the company's restructuring or operations—we want to hear from you.

We are especially interested in experiences involving enrollment pressure tactics, misleading marketing, internal operations, financial mismanagement, compliance concerns, and revenue-sharing agreements with universities. If 2U’s collapse or restructuring affected your job, finances, or education, your story matters.

You can share information confidentially by contacting us at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu. Anonymity will be protected upon request.

Defunding Public Media and the Dumbing Down of the United States of America

In the summer of 2025, as political battles raged over spending priorities, the Trump administration quietly moved to strip federal funding from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB), which helps sustain PBS and NPR. The justification? Cost-cutting and “eliminating liberal bias.” But beneath the surface, the defunding of public media is part of a much larger and more troubling trend: the deliberate degradation of public knowledge and critical thinking in the United States.

While elites send their children to private schools and consume high-quality journalism behind paywalls, the American public is being left with infotainment, partisan outrage, and algorithm-driven misinformation. Public broadcasting—though imperfect—has long served as one of the few accessible sources of educational content, cultural programming, and fact-based journalism available to all. Its erosion is a symbolic and practical blow to civic literacy in a country already struggling with basic educational attainment.

A Nation Struggling with Literacy

According to the U.S. Department of Education and the National Center for Education Statistics, only about half of U.S. adults read above a sixth-grade level. The OECD’s Programme for the International Assessment of Adult Competencies (PIAAC) has also found that nearly 20% of U.S. adults perform at or below the lowest levels of literacy and numeracy, placing the U.S. behind many other developed countries in basic skills.

A 2020 Gallup report estimated that low levels of literacy cost the U.S. economy more than $200 billion annually in lost productivity, wages, and tax revenue. Yet funding for adult education, public libraries, and public broadcasting continues to shrink—even as disinformation spreads faster and wider.

Who Benefits from a Dumbed-Down Public?

As the Higher Education Inquirer has documented in its reporting on for-profit education, digital credential mills, and the student debt crisis, the American knowledge economy is deeply stratified. Access to high-quality information, critical discourse, and even basic educational tools is increasingly a function of wealth and geography.

The defunding of NPR and PBS aligns with other coordinated efforts to dismantle public goods: the closure of public libraries, the corporatization of public universities, and the privatization of K-12 education through charter networks and voucher programs. These moves benefit private equity, edtech entrepreneurs, and ideological actors who profit when the public cannot think critically or access reliable information.

Far-right activists have long targeted public media as an enemy, not because it is radical, but because it provides a baseline of factual reporting that challenges misinformation and offers cultural programming outside the commercial marketplace. As trust in mainstream institutions declines, the vacuum is filled by influencers, conspiracy theorists, and partisan content creators—many of whom now dominate online spaces where public discourse once lived.

The Role of Public Media in Civic Life

PBS and NPR have historically played an important role in fostering civic engagement and lifelong learning. Shows like Frontline, Nova, NewsHour, and Morning Edition offered context and depth not found on commercial networks. Educational programming for children, such as Sesame Street and Arthur, supported early literacy and social development, particularly for families without access to high-quality preschool.

The attack on public media is, therefore, not just about money. It is about erasing a platform for critical inquiry and shared public knowledge. In many rural communities, public radio is still the most consistent, nonpartisan news source. Removing federal support won’t just weaken these outlets—it may silence them entirely.

A Broader War on Intelligence

This latest move fits within a broader campaign to delegitimize expertise, suppress academic freedom, and dismantle public education. As we reported in “Socrates in Space: University of Austin and the Billionaire Pipeline,” there’s a concerted effort by political operatives and billionaires to replace traditional knowledge institutions with ideologically-aligned alternatives.

The result is a country in which millions lack the literacy to read a ballot initiative, interpret a news article, or understand a contract—and where those with access to capital can shape the discourse while the rest are locked out.

In this environment, public media is not simply an institution—it is a last line of defense.

Consolidating Informational Power

The defunding of PBS and NPR is not an isolated event. It is part of a systemic effort to dismantle civic infrastructure, suppress critical thinking, and consolidate informational power in the hands of the wealthy and the politically connected. In a country where half the adult population cannot read beyond a sixth-grade level, eliminating access to high-quality, accessible programming is not just negligent—it is a form of engineered ignorance.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to investigate the erosion of public knowledge and its consequences. If you have stories about media access, censorship, or attacks on public institutions in your community, contact us at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu..

Sources:

  • U.S. Department of Education, National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), “Adult Literacy in the United States,” 2020

  • OECD, “Skills Matter: Further Results from the Survey of Adult Skills (PIAAC),” 2016

  • Gallup, “Assessing the Economic Gains of Eradicating Illiteracy Nationally and Regionally in the United States,” 2020

  • Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB), Budget History

  • Pew Research Center, “News Consumption Across Social Media in 2023”

  • Higher Education Inquirer, “Socrates in Space: University of Austin and the Billionaire Pipeline,” 2024

  • Higher Education Inquirer, “The 2U-PAC Nexus,” 2025

Trump Signs Crypto Bill: A Gateway to Corruption and Financial Oppression

On July 17, 2025, Donald Trump signed into law the “American Digital Freedom Act,” a sweeping piece of legislation that federalizes and deregulates cryptocurrency markets in the United States. While hailed by supporters as a victory for innovation and financial autonomy, the new law is more accurately understood as a major victory for crypto billionaires, libertarian think tanks, and political operatives seeking to reshape American financial life with minimal public accountability.

This bill, which strips oversight powers from the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) and restricts consumer protections, was heavily influenced by the cryptocurrency lobby. It legitimizes risky, unregulated financial products, undermines state enforcement power, and further embeds private power into public infrastructure. Far from delivering financial freedom to everyday Americans, this law opens the door to unprecedented corruption and control, continuing a pattern long warned about in the pages of the Higher Education Inquirer.

Echoes of Student Debt, EdTech Fraud, and Neoliberal Capture

In our May 2025 article, "How the New Cryptocurrency Bill Could Open the Door to Corruption and Control," we warned that the crypto bill was less about democratizing finance and more about creating new extractive markets. As with the for-profit college industry, the gigification of academic labor, and the student loan crisis, the crypto sector markets itself to the financially desperate, the underemployed, and the debt-burdened.

Cryptocurrency platforms promise opportunity and empowerment, just as subprime for-profit colleges did during the early 2000s. Instead, they profit from volatility, speculation, and financial illiteracy. The collapse of companies like FTX and the unraveling of various "blockchain for education" experiments—like those pitched by Minerva, 2U, and Lambda School—should have served as a warning. Instead, the American Digital Freedom Act enshrines their business models into law.

From Financial Risk to Political Weapon

While proponents describe the law as a pro-innovation framework, the political context suggests otherwise. The crypto bill was pushed through by some of the same operatives behind efforts to weaken the Department of Education, dismantle Title IX protections, and privatize public universities. The legislation also dovetails with Trump-aligned plans to create “digital citizenship” systems linked to financial identity—a move critics argue could be used to surveil and suppress dissent.

By reducing AML (Anti-Money Laundering) standards and weakening Know Your Customer (KYC) rules, the new law also makes it easier for dark money to enter U.S. elections and political campaigns. The line between crypto lobbying, national security risks, and voter manipulation is already blurred—and this legislation will only accelerate the trend.

As the Higher Education Inquirer, there is a growing convergence of tech capital, deregulated finance, and political ideology that promotes “freedom” while gutting accountability. The crypto bill fits squarely within this pattern.

Targeting the Dispossessed

The communities that will bear the brunt of the consequences are already stretched thin: working-class students drowning in loan debt, unemployed graduates with useless credentials, and gig workers living paycheck to paycheck. These are the same groups now being told that speculative crypto investments are their only shot at economic mobility.

It’s no surprise that crypto apps are targeting community college students, veterans, and underbanked populations with gamified interfaces and referral incentives—echoing the same predatory logic as diploma mills. Instead of building generational wealth, these platforms often lock users into a new form of digital serfdom, driven by data extraction and monetized hype.

The Long Game of Financialized Authoritarianism

The Higher Education Inquirer has consistently highlighted the dangers of unregulated private capital colonizing public institutions. Whether through for-profit colleges, hollow credential marketplaces, or now unregulated crypto markets, the pattern is the same: promise empowerment, deliver exploitation, and consolidate power.

The crypto bill signed by Trump is not an end—it is a gateway. A gateway to a political economy where finance, tech, and politics are indistinguishable, and where the price of dissent may be counted not only in speech, but in digital wallets and blockchain-based reputations.

We will continue reporting on the consequences of this legislation—especially where it intersects with higher education, student debt, and the erosion of democratic infrastructure. If you’ve been affected by crypto scams in academic settings or targeted by blockchain-backed “innovation” schemes, we want to hear from you.

Sources:

  • “How the New Cryptocurrency Bill Could Open the Door to Corruption and Control,” Higher Education Inquirer, May 2025

  • “Socrates in Space: University of Austin and the Billionaire Pipeline,” Higher Education Inquirer, July 2024

  • U.S. Congressional Record, July 17, 2025

  • CoinDesk, “Trump Signs Historic Crypto Deregulation Bill,” July 2025

  • Public Citizen, “Crypto Lobby’s Push to Rewrite U.S. Law,” June 2025

  • SEC Chair Gary Gensler’s Remarks, April–June 2025

  • Financial Times, “Digital Authoritarianism and Financial Surveillance,” May 2025

Degrees of Distraction: Clickbait Culture in Higher Education Media

A growing number of mass-market media outlets like MSN are flooding social media and news aggregators with listicle-style content that oversimplifies the complex realities of higher education. These articles—such as “These 16 College Majors Lead Straight to Debt and Disappointment,” “How Student Loan Debt Can Ruin Your Life,” and “The 10 Most Difficult College Degrees & The 10 Easiest”—traffic in anxiety and fear. They promise clarity but offer only distraction, substituting nuanced analysis with sensational headlines and shallow comparisons.

The underlying message of these articles is rarely subtle: if you pick the wrong major or underestimate the burden of student loans, you’re doomed. The reader is often shown a carousel of exaggerated personal stories, stripped of context and reduced to cautionary tales. At the same time, the articles ignore the broader, systemic forces that have made higher education more financially perilous for millions of Americans.

By presenting debt as a purely personal failure rather than a predictable outcome of policy decisions, financial deregulation, and corporate capture, these pieces shift the blame away from institutions and onto individual students. They rarely address how college costs have skyrocketed while wages have stagnated, how the Department of Education has been gutted and restructured, or how student loan servicing companies routinely mislead borrowers with little accountability. They don’t examine the role of for-profit schools, accreditors, or real estate developers profiting from campus-adjacent housing. Nor do they challenge the myth that higher education is a guaranteed path to upward mobility.

Instead, they pit majors against each other. Humanities, social sciences, and creative arts are portrayed as reckless luxuries. STEM majors are celebrated as pragmatic, even though the return on investment depends heavily on where one studies, who one knows, and whether one can persist in often toxic or exclusionary academic cultures. Even the categorization of “difficult” versus “easy” majors is misleading, based more on GPA averages than actual workload, long-term intellectual challenge, or student engagement.

This kind of journalism contributes to a growing anti-intellectualism. It discourages students from following their passions or pursuing degrees that may not yield high financial returns but are essential to a functioning democracy. It feeds a cultural narrative that sees college as a consumer transaction rather than a public good. The result is a media ecosystem where student fear becomes a revenue stream, and informed decision-making is replaced by click-through bait.

These articles also crowd out deeper investigations. Where is the coverage of ongoing borrower defense claims against predatory schools? Where is the sustained attention to the impact of private equity in education? Where is the reporting on how schools game federal regulations like Gainful Employment or misuse nonprofit status to enrich executives? Instead of informing readers about these realities, MSN and similar platforms serve up recycled headlines designed to generate outrage, not insight.

The Higher Education Inquirer calls for a higher standard of reporting—one that holds power to account and equips students with more than slogans and salary charts. Young people navigating college in 2025 are not fools or naive dreamers. They are facing an increasingly rigged game, one that demands critical thinking, not consumer shaming. They deserve journalism that investigates, not indoctrinates.

Sources
MSN: “These 16 College Majors Lead Straight to Debt and Disappointment”
MSN: “How Student Loan Debt Can Ruin Your Life”
MSN: “The 10 Most Difficult College Degrees & The 10 Easiest”
National Center for Education Statistics
The Institute for College Access and Success
The Century Foundation
Department of Education FOIA archives
Higher Education Inquirer investigations on student loan fraud and federal oversight

What the Numbers Say About Anxiety in America

Anxiety is a word we hear a lot these days—online, in classrooms, at the doctor’s office, and in everyday conversations. But how many people actually experience it? And how much has it changed over time?

If you’re between the ages of 16 and 35, chances are you or someone close to you has felt overwhelmed, tense, or stuck in worry. Some people call it stress. Some call it burnout. Others use clinical terms like Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Regardless of the label, it’s clear that anxiety is more visible—and more talked about—than ever before.

So what do the facts say?

Different surveys and studies give different numbers for how many people in the United States are dealing with anxiety. That’s because they don’t all define or measure anxiety in the same way. Some studies ask people how they’ve been feeling lately—whether they’ve felt nervous, on edge, or unable to control worrying. Others ask if someone has ever been diagnosed by a doctor or therapist with an anxiety disorder.

In 2008, about 5 percent of U.S. adults reported feeling anxious on a regular basis. By 2018, that number had increased to nearly 7 percent. The increase was even sharper among young adults. For people ages 18 to 25, anxiety nearly doubled during that time.

Then came the COVID-19 pandemic. In early 2020, anxiety levels in the U.S. shot up dramatically. In April of that year, more than one in five adults said they felt anxious most of the time. Since then, anxiety levels have come down somewhat, but they have not returned to pre-pandemic levels. Today, depending on the survey, roughly one in three adults under 35 report having frequent anxiety symptoms.

The differences in these numbers can be confusing. Some headlines say 10 percent of people have anxiety. Others say it’s closer to 40 percent. The truth is, it depends on how anxiety is defined, who is being asked, and when the data was collected. Studies based on formal diagnoses usually report lower numbers. Studies based on self-reported symptoms often report higher ones. Surveys during the height of the pandemic found much higher rates of anxiety than those done before or after.

Despite the differences, the overall trend is clear. Anxiety has been rising in the U.S., especially among younger people, over the last 15 years.

As for why anxiety is rising, there’s no single answer. Many researchers point to several factors that affect mental health today. These include the constant use of social media, the pressure to stay connected and productive, the rising cost of living, student debt, uncertain job prospects, climate anxiety, political division, and the disruption caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. Longer screen time, less sleep, fewer in-person friendships, and less access to nature may also be part of the problem.

At the same time, it’s not all bad news. Talking about anxiety is less taboo than it used to be. Many people, especially younger adults, are more open to discussing mental health. That openness can make it easier for others to speak up, find help, and feel less alone.

Colleges and universities have expanded access to mental health services, including online counseling and peer support groups. Public health campaigns have helped raise awareness. And new tools like therapy apps and mindfulness programs have made mental health support more accessible.

If you’re feeling anxious on a regular basis, you’re not alone. There’s no shame in struggling. It can help to talk to someone you trust, whether that’s a friend, family member, teacher, or counselor. Taking care of your physical health—through sleep, movement, and good nutrition—can also make a difference. So can setting boundaries with technology and making time for offline activities.

It’s worth remembering that you’re not just a statistic. But the numbers do tell a story. And that story shows that many young people are dealing with a world that feels uncertain, overwhelming, and disconnected. Anxiety is part of the reaction to that reality—not a personal failure.

If you’re in crisis or need someone to talk to, you can call or text the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. It’s free, confidential, and available 24/7.

The Higher Education Inquirer covers the intersections of education, labor, technology, and justice. If you have a story to share, you can reach out to us securely and anonymously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sources:

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

Friday, July 18, 2025

Sexual Criminals in US Higher Education: A Brief History

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spying on Climate: What the Intelligence Community Knew and When They Knew It

 On June 30, 2025, the National Security Archive published a revealing new briefing book titled “Spying on Climate: Inside Intelligence.” The release includes more than two dozen once-secret documents showing that the U.S. Intelligence Community has been closely tracking climate change as a national security threat for decades. Far from being a niche environmental concern, climate disruption has been consistently framed in these internal assessments as a driver of conflict, instability, resource scarcity, and mass migration—issues of direct importance to U.S. national security.

The collection includes detailed analyses from agencies including the CIA, the Defense Intelligence Agency, and the Office of the Director of National Intelligence. These assessments underscore how environmental shifts—from flooding and sea level rise to desertification and extreme heat—are already affecting geopolitical dynamics. In regions from Sub-Saharan Africa to Southeast Asia, climate stress has been shown to amplify risks of war, terrorism, authoritarianism, and mass displacement. The Arctic thaw has raised the stakes for U.S.-Russia competition. Drought and crop failure are destabilizing fragile governments. And millions of people are being forced to move, often toward borders that are increasingly militarized.

One especially significant report, produced by the National Intelligence Council in 2021, warned that climate change would “exacerbate cross-border flashpoints, particularly over water and migration.” The 2024 Annual Threat Assessment from the Director of National Intelligence also emphasized that climate-related hazards are expected to intensify, directly affecting U.S. military infrastructure and increasing demands for humanitarian and disaster relief operations.

Although many of these findings have appeared in unclassified summary form in recent years, this newly released archive reveals the long-standing nature of the intelligence community’s attention to the issue. One report, commissioned in the early 2000s, was kept classified for over 17 years and only made public in February 2025. It detailed early efforts to model climate instability and its implications for military readiness and international order. Other documents show how climate security assessments informed Pentagon and diplomatic planning as early as the late 1990s.

These disclosures are not part of a political campaign or advocacy push. They come from some of the most secretive and security-focused institutions in the U.S. government—agencies that prioritize global surveillance, satellite data, and geopolitical modeling over ideology. Their purpose is to identify and mitigate threats, not to build consensus or win elections.

The implications are clear. Climate change is not a distant or debatable threat; it is a persistent, multi-decade risk documented in some of the most secure channels of government communication. For those who still dismiss or downplay climate science, these documents challenge that complacency. If the CIA and Pentagon have treated climate change as a strategic risk for years, it raises the question: why would any rational civilian ignore it?

At a time when disinformation about climate change is rampant, and when powerful interests continue to sow doubt for financial or political gain, the release of these documents is a stark reminder that the highest levels of U.S. intelligence have already moved far past debate. They have been planning for climate disruption not as possibility but as certainty.

To pretend otherwise is to ignore a body of evidence that has now been dragged into the light. The intelligence community isn’t in the business of making policy recommendations, but it does flag risks. It is now up to civil society, higher education, and the public to respond with the urgency that the moment demands.

Sources:
National Security Archive, “Spying on Climate: Inside Intelligence,” June 30, 2025. https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/briefing-book/climate-change-transparency-project/2025-06-30/spying-climate-inside-intelligence
National Security Archive, “The Climate Intelligence Consensus,” February 28, 2025. https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/briefing-book/climate-change-transparency-project-intelligence/2025-02-28/climate-intelligence
Office of the Director of National Intelligence, “Annual Threat Assessment,” February 2024. https://www.dni.gov/files/ODNI/documents/assessments/ATA-2024-Unclassified-Report.pdf