The Dark Legacy of Elite University Medical Centers

 

(Image: Mass General is Harvard University Medical School's teaching hospital.)  

 

For decades, America’s elite university medical centers have been the epitome of healthcare research and innovation, providing world-class treatment, education, and cutting-edge medical advancements. Yet, beneath this polished surface lies a troubling legacy of medical exploitation, systemic inequality, and profound injustice—one that disproportionately impacts marginalized communities. While the focus has often been on racial disparities, this issue is not solely about race; it is also deeply entangled with class. In recent years, books like Medical Apartheid by Harriet Washington have illuminated the history of medical abuse, but they also serve as a reminder that inequality in healthcare goes far beyond race and touches upon the economic and social circumstances of individuals.

The term Medical Apartheid, as coined by Harriet Washington, refers to the systemic and institutionalized exploitation of Black Americans in medical research and healthcare. Washington’s work examines the history of Black Americans as both victims of medical experimentation and subjects of discriminatory practices that have left deep scars within the healthcare system. Yet, the complex interplay between race and class means that many poor or economically disadvantaged individuals, regardless of race, have also faced neglect and exploitation within these prestigious medical institutions. The legacy of inequality within elite university medical centers, therefore, is not limited to race but is also an issue of class disparity, where wealthier individuals are more likely to receive proper care and access to cutting-edge treatments while the poor are relegated to substandard care.

Historical examples of exploitation and abuse in medical centers are well-documented in Washington's work, and contemporary lawsuits and investigations reveal that these systemic problems still persist. Poor patients, especially those from marginalized racial backgrounds, are often viewed as expendable research subjects. The lawsuit underscores the intersectionality of race and class, arguing that these patients’ socio-economic status exacerbates their vulnerability to medical exploitation, making it easier for institutions to treat them as less than human, especially when they lack the resources or power to contest medical practices.

One of the most critical components of this issue is the stark contrast in healthcare access between the wealthy and the poor. While elite university medical centers boast state-of-the-art facilities, cutting-edge treatments, and renowned researchers, these resources are often not equally accessible to all. Wealthier patients are more likely to have the financial means to receive the best care, not just because of their ability to pay but because they are more likely to be referred to these prestigious centers. Conversely, low-income patients, especially those without insurance or with inadequate insurance, are often forced into overcrowded public hospitals or community clinics that are underfunded, understaffed, and unable to provide the level of care available at elite institutions.

The issue of class inequality within medical care is evident in several key areas. For instance, studies have shown that low-income patients, regardless of race, are less likely to receive timely and appropriate medical care. A 2019 report from the National Academy of Medicine found that low-income patients are often dismissed by healthcare professionals who underestimate the severity of their symptoms or assume they are less knowledgeable about their own health. In addition, patients from lower socio-economic backgrounds are more likely to experience medical debt, which can lead to long-term financial struggles and prevent them from seeking care in the future.

Moreover, class plays a significant role in the underrepresentation of poor individuals in medical research, which is often conducted at elite university medical centers. Historically, clinical trials have excluded low-income participants, leaving them without access to potentially life-saving treatments or advancements. Wealthier individuals, on the other hand, are more likely to be invited to participate in research studies, ensuring they benefit from the very innovations and breakthroughs that these institutions claim to provide.

Class-based disparities are also reflected in the inequities in medical professions. The road to becoming a physician or researcher in these elite institutions is often paved with significant economic barriers. Medical students from low-income backgrounds face steep financial challenges, which can hinder their ability to gain acceptance into prestigious medical schools or pursue advanced research opportunities. Even when low-income students do manage to enter these programs, they often face biases and discrimination in clinical settings, where their abilities are unfairly questioned, and their economic status may prevent them from fully participating in research or other educational opportunities.

Yet, the inequities within these institutions don’t stop at the patients. Behind the scenes, workers at elite university medical centers, particularly those from working-class and marginalized backgrounds, face their own form of exploitation. These medical centers are not only spaces of high medical achievement but also sites of labor stratification, where workers in lower-paying roles are largely people of color and often immigrants. Support staff—such as janitors, food service workers, custodians, and administrative assistants—are often invisible but essential to the functioning of these hospitals and research institutions. These workers face long hours, poor working conditions, and low wages, all while contributing to the daily operations of elite medical centers. Many of these workers, employed through third-party contractors, lack benefits, job security, or protections, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation.

Custodial workers, who are often exposed to hazardous chemicals and physically demanding work, may struggle to make ends meet, despite playing a crucial role in maintaining the hospital environment. Similarly, food service workers—many of whom are Black, Latinx, or immigrant—also work in demanding conditions for low wages. These workers frequently face job insecurity and are not given the same recognition or compensation as the high-ranking physicians, researchers, or administrators in these centers.

At the same time, the stratification in these institutions extends beyond support staff. Medical researchers, residents, and postdoctoral fellows—often young, early-career individuals, many from working-class backgrounds or communities of color—are similarly subjected to precarious working conditions. These individuals perform much of the vital research that drives innovation at these centers, yet they often face exploitative working hours, low pay, and job insecurity. They are the backbone of the institution’s research output but frequently face barriers to advancement and recognition.

The higher ranks of these institutions—senior doctors, professors, and researchers—enjoy financial rewards, job security, and prestige, while those at the lower rungs continue to experience instability and exploitation. This division, which mirrors the economic and racial hierarchies of broader society, reinforces the very class-based inequalities these medical centers are meant to address.

In recent years, some progress has been made in addressing these inequalities. Many elite universities have implemented diversity and inclusion programs aimed at increasing access for underrepresented minority and low-income students in medical schools. Some institutions have also begun to emphasize the importance of cultural competence in training medical professionals, acknowledging the need to recognize and understand both racial and economic disparities in healthcare.

However, critics argue that these efforts, while important, are often superficial and fail to address the root causes of inequality. The institutional focus on "diversity" and "inclusion" often overlooks the more significant structural issues, such as the affordability of education, the class-based access to healthcare, and the economic barriers that continue to undermine the ability of disadvantaged individuals to receive quality care.

In addition to acknowledging racial inequality, it is crucial to tackle the broader issue of class within the healthcare system. The disproportionate number of Black and low-income individuals suffering from poor healthcare outcomes is a direct result of a system that privileges wealth and status over human dignity. To begin addressing these issues, we need to move beyond token diversity initiatives and work toward policy reforms that focus on economic access, insurance coverage, and the equitable distribution of medical resources.

Scholars like Harriet Washington, whose work documents the intersection of race, class, and healthcare inequality, continue to play a pivotal role in bringing attention to these systemic injustices. Washington’s book Medical Apartheid serves as a historical record but also as a call to action for creating a healthcare system that genuinely serves all people, regardless of race or socio-economic status. The fight for healthcare equity must, therefore, be a dual one—against both racial and class-based disparities that have long plagued our medical institutions.

The story of Henrietta Lacks, as told in The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot, exemplifies the longstanding exploitation of marginalized individuals in elite university medical centers. The case of Lacks, whose cells were taken without consent by researchers at Johns Hopkins University, brings to light both the historical abuse of Black bodies and the profit-driven nature of academic medical research. Johns Hopkins, one of the most prestigious medical centers in the world, has been complicit in the kind of exploitation and neglect that these institutions are often criticized for—issues that disproportionately affect not only Black Americans but also economically disadvantaged individuals.

The Black Panther Party’s healthcare activism, as chronicled by Alondra Nelson in Body and Soul, also directly challenges elite medical institutions’ failure to provide adequate care for Black and low-income communities. Nelson’s work reflects how, even today, these institutions are often slow to address the systemic issues of health disparities that activists like the Panthers fought against.

Recent lawsuits against elite medical centers further underscore the importance of holding these institutions accountable for their role in perpetuating medical exploitation and inequality. In An American Sickness by Elisabeth Rosenthal, the commercialization of healthcare is explored, highlighting how university hospitals and medical centers often prioritize profits over patient care, leaving low-income and marginalized groups with limited access to treatment. Rosenthal’s work highlights the role these institutions play in a larger system that disproportionately benefits wealthier patients while neglecting the most vulnerable.

A Global Comparison: Countries with Better Health Outcomes

While the United States struggles with systemic healthcare disparities, other nations have shown that equitable healthcare outcomes are possible when class and race are not barriers to care. Nations with universal healthcare systems, such as those in Canada, the United Kingdom, and many Scandinavian countries, consistently rank higher in overall health outcomes compared to the U.S.

For instance, Canada’s single-payer system ensures that all citizens have access to healthcare, regardless of their income. This system reduces the financial burdens that often lead to delays in care or avoidance of treatment due to costs. According to the World Health Organization, Canada has better health outcomes on a variety of metrics, including life expectancy and infant mortality, compared to the U.S., where medical costs often lead to unequal access to care.

Similarly, the United Kingdom’s National Health Service (NHS) provides healthcare free at the point of use for all citizens. Despite challenges such as funding constraints and wait times, the NHS has been successful in ensuring that healthcare is a right, not a privilege. The U.K. consistently ranks higher than the U.S. in terms of access to care, health outcomes, and overall public health.

Nordic countries, such as Norway and Sweden, also exemplify how universal healthcare can lead to better outcomes. These countries invest heavily in public health and preventative care, ensuring that even their most marginalized citizens receive the necessary medical services. The result is a population with some of the highest life expectancies and lowest rates of chronic diseases in the world.

These nations show that, while access to healthcare is a critical issue in the U.S., the challenge is not a lack of innovation or capability. Instead, it is the systemic barriers—both racial and economic—that persist in elite medical centers, undermining the potential for universal health equity. The U.S. could learn from these nations by adopting policies that reduce economic inequality in healthcare access and focusing on preventative care and public health strategies that serve all people equally.

Ultimately, the dark legacy of elite university medical centers is not something that can be erased, but it is something that must be acknowledged. Only by confronting this painful history, alongside addressing class-based disparities, can we begin to build a more just and equitable healthcare system—one that serves everyone, regardless of race, background, or socio-economic status. Until this happens, the distrust and skepticism that many marginalized communities feel toward these institutions will continue to shape the landscape of American healthcare. The path forward requires a concerted effort to address both racial and class-based inequities that have defined these institutions for far too long. The U.S. can, and must, strive for healthcare outcomes akin to those seen in nations that have built systems prioritizing equity and fairness—systems that put human dignity over profit.

Political Attacks on Higher Education (AAUP)

The Trump administration and many state governments are accelerating attacks on academic freedom, shared governance, and higher education as a public good. We are working with our chapters and with allies in higher ed and the labor movement to defend and advance our vision: Higher education that is accessible and affordable for all who want it. Freedom to teach, to learn, to conduct research, to speak out on issues of the day, and to assemble in the organizations of our choice. Colleges and universities that create opportunity for students, workers, and communities. Sufficient funding to provide true education and sustainable working conditions. Information and resources to help in this fight are being added below as they are developed.

Immigration

• We need to know what is happening on your campus so we can legally and strategically respond. Please let us know what is going on by using this intake form.
• Fact sheet on dealing with ICE on your campus (AAUP General Counsel)
• Fact sheet on rights and risks for workers who are in the United States on visas (American Federation of Teachers)
• Issue brief on immigration-related campus concerns (American Council on Education)
• Know Your Rights flyers (AFL-CIO)
• Family preparedness plan template (Immigrant Legal Resource Center)

Attacks on Science and Research

• Support for Researchers Facing Coordinated Campaigns of Intimidation and Harassment (Researcher Support Consortium)

Federal Funding 

• A Win for the AAUP, Higher Ed, and Our Communities
  AAUP Seeks Restraining Order on Termination of Grants
• Federal Funding Freeze Impact Survey (Higher Ed Labor United)
• Trump’s DEI order leaves academic researchers fearful of political influence over grants (Associated Press)
• Fact sheet on privatizing K-12 education (AAUP Center for the Defense of Academic Freedom)

Accreditation

• Accreditation: What to Expect in 2025 (American Federation of Teachers)

Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion

• A Win for the AAUP, Higher Ed, and Our Communities
• AAUP Seeks Restraining Order on Termination of Grants
• AAUP Joins Lawsuit to Block Trump’s Unlawful and Unconstitutional DEI Orders
• Fact sheet on diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility (AAUP Center for the Defense of Academic Freedom)
• Fact sheet on DEI in K-12 (AAUP Center for the Defense of Academic Freedom)
• Fact sheet on antisemitism (AAUP Center for the Defense of Academic Freedom)
• Fact sheet on weaponizing civil rights law (AAUP Center for the Defense of Academic Freedom)
• Fact sheet on gender identity (AAUP Center for the Defense of Academic Freedom)

Anticipatory Obedience

Administrations sometimes go farther than the law requires to placate those who are attacking higher ed.

• Statement Against Anticipatory Obedience, with recommendations (AAUP)

Support the Mission of the University of Oregon (United Academics of the University of Oregon)

Tuition has increased faster than inflation. State funding has increased faster than inflation. Administrator salaries have increased faster than inflation. Yet, the administration is demanding that the teachers, librarians, and researchers who drive the university’s educational mission take real wage cuts. 

While everyone acknowledges the financial challenges facing higher education, the UO is receiving more money per student than ever before. If this money isn’t going toward student education and knowledge creation, where is it going?

The Facts:

Quality Education Requires Investment in Faculty

The value of a University of Oregon degree depends on the quality of its professors, instructors, researchers, and librarians. When faculty wages erode due to artificial austerity, neglect, or slow attrition, it affects not only the quality of education and research, but also the long-term value of a UO degree for students and alumni alike.

• UO faculty salaries rank near the bottom among our peer institutions in the American Association of Universities (AAU).
• United Academics has proposed fair wage increases that would merely adjust salaries for inflation and restore them to pre-pandemic budget levels.
• Despite pandemic-related learning loss, the administration is spending less on education per student (adjusted for inflation) than before COVID-19.
• The administration has prioritized administrative growth over academic excellence, while faculty have taken on increased workloads since the pandemic.

Faculty Sacrificed to Protect UO—Now It’s Time for Fair Wages

During the pandemic, faculty agreed to potential pay reductions to help UO weather an uncertain financial future. We made sacrifices to ensure the university could continue to serve students. Now, as we bargain our first post-pandemic contract, the administration refuses to offer wage increases that:

• Cover inflation
• Acknowledge additional faculty labor since the pandemic
• Recognize our unwavering commitment to UO’s educational mission

Our Vision for UO: Excellence in Teaching & Research

The University of Oregon’s mission is clear:

“The University of Oregon is a comprehensive public research university committed to exceptional teaching, discovery, and service. We work at a human scale to generate big ideas. As a community of scholars, we help individuals question critically, think logically, reason effectively, communicate clearly, act creatively, and live ethically.”

Our vision for the University of Oregon is one where the educational and research mission are at the fore; an institution of higher learning where we attract and maintain the best researchers and instructors and provide a world class education for the citizens of Oregon and beyond. Yes, this will take a shift in economic priorities, but only back to those before the pandemic. Our demands are neither extravagant nor frivolous. Our demand is that the fiduciaries of the University of Oregon perform their primary fiduciary duty: support the mission of the University of Oregon.

Why This Matters Now

We are currently in state-mandated mediation, a final step before a potential faculty strike. Striking is a last resort—faculty do not want to disrupt student learning. However, the administration’s arguments for austerity do not align with the university’s financial situation or acknowledge the increased faculty labor and inflated economic reality since the pandemic. If the administration does not relent, we may have no choice but to strike.

We Need Your Support

A strong show of support from the UO community—students, parents, alumni, donors, legislators and citizens of Oregon and beyond—can help pressure the administration to do the right thing. 

Sign our Community Support Letter

Elite University Presidents: Most Hated Men (and Women) on Campus

In prestigious universities across the country, the figurehead of the institution—the president—has become a symbol of frustration and resentment among students, faculty, and staff. These figures, often once revered as academic leaders, are increasingly viewed as little more than corporate CEOs, prioritizing the interests of wealthy trustees and donors over the very people who make the university what it is: the students and the dedicated faculty and staff who carry out its mission.

At the heart of the growing discontent is the trend of university presidents restricting freedom of speech and assembly, stifling student activism, and limiting open debate in the name of "campus safety" or "institutional stability." Instead of acting as advocates for open discourse, many university presidents have aligned themselves with powerful corporate interests, turning their backs on the very values that once defined higher education. The administration's agenda is often dictated by the whims of major donors, whose influence can shape everything from university policy to the hiring and firing of professors.

The University of Chicago, long a beacon of academic freedom, has seen its leadership take a hard turn in recent years, placing increasing restrictions on student demonstrations and dissent. Under the guise of maintaining "campus order," the administration has been known to deploy private security to break up protests and limit public forums for free speech.

Harvard University, with its enormous endowment and prestigious reputation, has become another example of an institution where the president seems more concerned with appeasing donors than listening to the students and faculty. The administration has been criticized for prioritizing relationships with donors over addressing the deepening student debt crisis and growing concerns about inequality in higher education. The university has faced a wave of student-led protests demanding action on climate change, affordable tuition, and the rights of adjunct faculty, all of which were largely ignored or dismissed by the top administration.

Harvard’s massive endowment—reportedly the largest of any university in the world—has been a focal point of controversy. While it continues to grow, many argue that the university could be doing far more to address the financial burdens of its students, particularly the mounting debt facing undergraduates. Instead, the administration has focused on expanding its brand and maintaining its status as an elite institution, often prioritizing donor preferences and legacy admissions over efforts to make education more accessible. Legacy admissions, in which children of alumni are given preferential treatment, have been a point of contention, with critics arguing that this practice entrenches privilege and reduces opportunities for marginalized students.

Even at places like Princeton University, long considered a champion of academic freedom, President Christopher Eisgruber has come under fire for clamping down on student speech and assembly. While Princeton’s administration claims to support free expression, it has quietly enacted policies to restrict protestors’ access to the administration building, citing concerns about “disruption” and “disorder.” Eisgruber, who has connections to powerful alumni, has been accused of using his position to protect the interests of wealthy donors while ignoring the voices of those who are most directly affected by the university's policies.

The University of Southern California (USC) is another prime example of a university where the president’s priorities have come under increasing scrutiny from students, faculty, and staff. Under President Carol Folt, USC has become emblematic of a trend where the administration appears more aligned with wealthy donors and corporate interests than with the needs of its campus community.

Folt, who took over as USC's president in 2019, was thrust into the spotlight during a period of significant unrest. The university had already been embroiled in scandals—including the high-profile college admissions bribery scandal—and was facing criticism for its handling of sexual assault allegations within its medical school. Rather than addressing these issues head-on, many argue that Folt’s administration focused instead on securing funding from high-profile donors and expanding the university’s brand, while sidelining the concerns of students and faculty.

This prioritization of external donors is evident in USC’s massive fundraising campaigns, which often overshadow initiatives aimed at addressing student debt, affordability, or academic freedom. USC's endowment has grown exponentially under Folt’s leadership, but student loan debt continues to be a crippling issue for many Trojans, and the concerns of adjunct faculty members remain largely ignored.

Furthermore, Folt’s administration has faced criticism for its efforts to suppress dissent on campus. For instance, student protests related to labor rights, housing issues, and calls for greater diversity on campus have been met with limited response or, at times, outright hostility. In 2022, when USC students protested the administration's handling of campus housing shortages, they were met with heightened security measures and a lack of genuine engagement from university leadership. These actions—along with Folt’s ties to the private sector, particularly her background in environmental policy and corporate leadership—have fueled perceptions that USC’s administration is more interested in protecting its brand than in creating an inclusive, participatory academic environment.

USC also exemplifies the growing disconnect between students, faculty, and administration when it comes to issues of free speech and assembly. Protests have become less frequent, as many students feel their voices will not be heard, and faculty members, particularly those in non-tenure track positions, are often too fearful of retribution to publicly criticize the administration.

The discontent with university leadership is not confined to the campus. In recent years, presidents from some of the nation's most elite institutions, including Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, have faced intense scrutiny and backlash during hearings in the U.S. House of Representatives. These public hearings, aimed at addressing the growing issues of student debt, university funding, and the influence of wealthy donors on campus, have highlighted the widening disconnect between top university administrations and the communities they are supposed to serve.

During a House hearing in 2022, Lawrence Bacow of Harvard, along with MIT's President L. Rafael Reif and Penn's President Amy Gutmann, faced tough questioning from lawmakers who were deeply critical of how these institutions have handled student debt, tuition costs, and their ties to corporate interests. Bacow, in particular, faced pointed questions about Harvard's massive endowment and the university's refusal to use its resources to address skyrocketing tuition and student loan debt. Both Reif and Gutmann were grilled on how their institutions have prioritized securing donations from wealthy alumni and corporate entities over the well-being of students and faculty. The hearing exposed a troubling pattern where the presidents of these prestigious institutions seemed more concerned with maintaining their institutions' financial health than with addressing the needs of their campus communities.

Legacy admissions, a practice entrenched at many of these elite schools, also came under fire during the hearings. Critics argued that such policies perpetuate inequality, giving children of alumni—many of whom come from wealthy backgrounds—unfair advantages in the admissions process. This has contributed to the growing perception that these universities, while claiming to offer merit-based opportunities, are fundamentally shaped by privilege and corporate interests.

These public confrontations highlighted the growing frustration with university presidents who are seen as out of touch with the everyday realities facing students and faculty, as well as the increasing influence of money and corporate interests in higher education. The presidents of these universities, once seen as respected leaders, have become targets of anger and resentment, with many on Capitol Hill and on campus calling for a shift in how these institutions are governed.

These are just a few examples of elite universities where the power structure has shifted toward those who have the financial means to dictate the terms of the campus experience. As tuition costs rise and student loan debt becomes a crushing burden for many, university presidents seem more determined than ever to serve the interests of trustees and donors, rather than advocating for the people who should be their true constituents: the students, faculty, and staff who make up the heart of the academic community.

The impact of this shift has been profound. On campuses across the country, students are increasingly feeling that their voices don’t matter. Faculty members, once seen as the intellectual core of the institution, are being sidelined in favor of administrators who prioritize financial concerns over academic integrity. And staff members—many of whom are underpaid and overworked—are being pushed to the margins as well.

But it’s not just students who are feeling the heat. Faculty and staff have found their own platforms for protest increasingly under attack. At places like Yale University, where former President Peter Salovey faced criticism for neglecting the needs of faculty and for his lukewarm responses to issues like labor rights and the treatment of graduate workers, professors staged walkouts and organized petitions to voice their discontent with the administration's disregard for their well-being.

In this new era, university presidents are no longer the beloved leaders of intellectual discourse—they are the gatekeepers of corporate power, more concerned with securing funding from wealthy donors than with fostering an inclusive, open, and critical academic environment. The fallout from this shift is only growing, as campuses become hotbeds of dissent, with students, faculty, and staff increasingly questioning the direction of higher education and the people at the helm.

As the divide between administration and the campus community continues to widen, one thing is clear: the once-admired university president is now among the most hated figures on campus, seen not as a champion of academic values, but as an enforcer of an increasingly political and profit-driven agenda.

U.S. Law Schools: Perpetuating Inequality and Injustice, Serving the Billionaire Class

As the nation grapples with profound social and economic inequities, U.S. law schools have become a critical yet overlooked institution in perpetuating these disparities. From shaping the legal minds that go on to influence policy to training future attorneys who occupy the nation's corridors of power, law schools are playing an outsized role in entrenching systems of privilege, rather than dismantling them.

One of the most glaring manifestations of this failure is the Trump-era Supreme Court, whose composition has shifted dramatically due to the influence of elite law schools. Justices such as Brett Kavanaugh (Yale Law), Neil Gorsuch (Harvard Law), and Amy Coney Barrett (Notre Dame Law) have reshaped the Court in the image of conservative ideologies. These justices, primarily from elite institutions, have consistently sided with corporate interests over public welfare. Their rulings on critical issues like voting rights (Shelby County v. Holder, 2013), abortion access (Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, 2022), and corporate regulation (South Dakota v. Wayfair, Inc., 2018) have had profound consequences, amplifying inequalities and reducing access to justice for marginalized communities. The legal minds trained in these prestigious law schools have moved away from serving the public, instead reinforcing the status quo and further consolidating power in the hands of the wealthy elite.

This trend is compounded by the overwhelming concentration of law school graduates in a handful of sectors, particularly Washington, D.C., and on Wall Street. A report from the National Association for Law Placement (NALP) reveals that nearly 70% of graduates from top law schools—such as Harvard, Yale, and Columbia—secure positions in large corporate law firms or government roles. Meanwhile, those who enter public service or work in underfunded legal fields such as public defense face a starkly different reality. According to the American Bar Association (ABA), the average starting salary for a public defender in 2020 was around $50,000, compared to $190,000 in major corporate law firms. This disparity highlights the economic realities facing graduates who pursue careers in public interest law.

Law schools exacerbate these inequities through their admissions processes, which heavily favor students from affluent backgrounds. A 2019 study by the Equality of Opportunity Project found that 70% of students attending Harvard Law, Yale Law, and other Ivy League law schools come from families in the top 20% income bracket, while less than 5% come from the bottom 20%. This financial divide is perpetuated by high tuition costs—Harvard Law's tuition and fees for the 2024 academic year exceed $70,000 annually—making it inaccessible to many who might otherwise have the talent and potential to succeed in law.

Furthermore, law schools’ connections with corporate sponsors and wealthy alumni networks often shape the curriculum and career pathways offered to students. As a result, legal education has become increasingly oriented toward corporate law, perpetuating a system that values prestige and financial gain over social justice. A 2021 report from the American Bar Foundation indicated that nearly half of law school graduates work in the private sector within the first ten years of their careers, most of them in high-paying corporate firms or lobbying groups, which further concentrates legal power in the hands of the elite.

The oversupply of lawyers entering corporate sectors—many of whom attend the nation’s top law schools—has created a system where elite law firms and government agencies, such as the U.S. Department of Justice and major regulatory bodies, dominate legal decision-making. This trend is also visible in the disproportionate representation of law school graduates in Washington, D.C., where they shape policy in ways that benefit large corporations and financial institutions, while leaving the needs of the general public unmet.

A central aspect of the legal system that perpetuates inequality is the way the billionaire class profits from the injustice system itself. Wealthy individuals and corporate entities have found ways to exploit the legal system to their advantage, contributing to the concentration of wealth and power. Many billionaires and large corporations fund legal battles designed to weaken regulations, block labor rights, and influence policy decisions that benefit their financial interests.

For example, major private prison companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group, both of which have ties to influential law firms, profit from the mass incarceration of predominantly Black and Latino individuals. These private companies lobby for harsher sentencing laws and immigration policies that fill their prisons, creating a cycle of profit that thrives on systemic inequality. Legal professionals trained in elite law schools frequently represent these corporations, further entrenching the power dynamics that keep vulnerable populations incarcerated.

The billionaire class also reaps the benefits of legal loopholes and tax avoidance schemes facilitated by top-tier law firms. Lawyers trained in Ivy League schools often advise wealthy clients on ways to hide their assets, evade taxes, and exploit the legal system for personal gain, which further exacerbates income inequality. Law firms and the lawyers who work in them profit immensely by providing these services, while the broader public bears the burden of underfunded social programs and public services.

The impact of law schools’ role in the legal system is not a new development, but has historical roots. For much of U.S. history, the courts and legal institutions have played a pivotal role in limiting democracy and reinforcing inequalities. However, there have been pivotal moments when the courts, often driven by lawyers trained in the nation's top schools, expanded democracy and fought for justice.

A key moment in the history of expanding democracy was the work of Thurgood Marshall and Charles Hamilton Houston, both of whom were products of Howard University School of Law—a historically Black institution that stood in stark contrast to the elite, mostly white law schools of their time. Marshall, who went on to become the first African American Supreme Court Justice, and Houston, his mentor, fought tirelessly against segregation and racial discrimination. Houston's strategy, dubbed "the 'liberal' approach to civil rights," involved challenging discriminatory laws through the courts, using legal arguments rooted in equal protection and the promise of the 14th Amendment.

Houston's legal battles laid the groundwork for the landmark Brown v. Board of Education (1954) case, where the Supreme Court, under the influence of Marshall's legal strategies, overturned the doctrine of “separate but equal” and declared racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional. This ruling, perhaps one of the most profound examples of the courts expanding democracy, was achieved through the work of legal professionals committed to social justice, many of whom came from institutions outside the mainstream elite law schools.

Unfortunately, the trend of the courts advancing civil rights was not consistent. The Dred Scott v. Sandford (1857) decision, where the Supreme Court ruled that African Americans could not be citizens, and Plessy v. Ferguson (1896), which upheld racial segregation, serve as stark reminders of how the legal system can be wielded to entrench inequality and limit democracy. The very law schools that trained many of the justices responsible for these rulings were also responsible for shaping the legal education that upheld the racist and exclusionary structures of the time.

Today, the cycle of legal education serving the interests of the wealthy and powerful continues. While the courts have sometimes played a role in broadening civil rights and democracy, too often they have sided with corporate interests, limiting progress. Lawyers trained in elite law schools continue to occupy spaces where the rules of the game are rigged in favor of those with wealth and influence.

To reverse this trend, law schools must take deliberate action. They must shift their focus from training lawyers for the highest-paying and most prestigious jobs to producing attorneys who are dedicated to the public good. This includes increasing financial accessibility, offering more scholarships for low-income students, and reevaluating the curriculum to emphasize social justice, public interest law, and equitable legal reforms. Moreover, legal education should challenge the structures of wealth and power, ensuring that future lawyers are equipped to dismantle the systems that benefit billionaires and corporations at the expense of justice.

The influence of law schools in perpetuating inequality cannot be overstated. The future of the legal profession—and, by extension, the justice system—depends on whether these institutions can embrace a new mission: one that fosters true equality under the law and dismantles the structures of privilege that continue to shape our society.

Our Journalism

Our journalism is different than most others who cover higher education.  Like those other outlets, we report the news, but that is not our focus. And like a few outlets, we also do time-consuming investigative work.  We recognize the outstanding contributions of dedicated journalists, but these times, the 2020s, call good people to do more--much more. 

The Higher Education Inquirer (HEI) follows the legacy of the muckrakers from the early 20th century. HEI delves into in-depth investigative reporting, uncovering scandals, institutional failures, and systemic inequalities in colleges, universities, and their related businesses. Journalists like Upton Sinclair (who exposed the meatpacking industry) and Ida Tarbell (who revealed monopolistic practices in oil) used their platforms to spotlight hidden problems. In a similar vein, HEI carries this tradition forward by focusing on the higher education industry and connects it with the world outside the ivory tower.

Muckraking journalists of the past often focused on giving a voice to the voiceless, and in today's context, HEI highlights issues such as racial, class, and gender disparities in education and the work that should follow. These topics have become more prominent in the 2020s as society grapples with the effects of systemic inequalities and how marginalized communities are underserved and underrepresented in elite institutions.

Just as muckrakers' stories led to reforms (e.g., child labor laws, anti-trust regulations), HEI aims to create change in higher education by influencing public opinion and policy. Change that can take decades to create and months to lose. By exposing unethical practices and systemic problems, such as the growing burden of student loans, the corporatization of universities, and complicity in climate change and authoritarianism, we hope to prompt action from lawmakers and educators to implement more equitable solutions.

Importance of This Type of Journalism in the 2020s:

In the 2020s, higher education is undergoing significant challenges, to include skyrocketing tuition, an increasing reliance on adjunct faculty, and concerns over the value of a college degree. Investigative journalism like ours holds universities accountable for the way they handle these issues. It serves as a check on the growing power and wealth of educational institutions, particularly in light of their increasing commercialization and influence over public policy.

The 2020s have brought heightened awareness of issues like racial inequality, mental health concerns, and the widening gap between wealthy and poor students. Investigative journalism continues to expose these problems, helping to drive conversations about fairness and equity in education. In an era when many people feel disconnected from powerful institutions, journalism that uncovers uncomfortable truths is essential for mobilizing change.

Higher education has been seen by many as a beacon of knowledge, innovation, and fairness, yet there are growing concerns about its accessibility and integrity. Investigative journalism done well helps maintain public trust in higher education by ensuring that universities live up to their purported values. HEI helps the public see when universities exploit students, misuse funds, or engage in unethical practices.

In the 2020s, many key policy issues—such as student debt, the cost of education, and educational access—are hot topics. Journalism that scrutinizes higher education can influence policy reform, potentially leading to legislative action aimed at reducing student debt, increasing transparency in university finances, and addressing fair hiring practices.

War and Peace:

War is often driven by political, economic, and technological forces, and universities are deeply intertwined with these drivers. Many top universities have longstanding partnerships with military contractors, defense organizations, and intelligence agencies. Research funded by these institutions may directly contribute to the development of weapons or military technologies, some of which are used in conflicts around the world. 

The Higher Education Inquirer investigates how these partnerships influence the direction of research, as well as the ethical implications of universities prioritizing military contracts over other forms of academic inquiry. Similarly, university programs train future leaders who will shape foreign policy or lead military operations, and HEI will hold them accountable for the potential consequences of those actions. 

On the other hand, universities can be spaces where peace studies, conflict resolution programs, and global diplomacy are taught—an important counterbalance that HEI highlights, showing how academia can be a force for peace amidst the militarization of knowledge.

Genocide:

Genocides are often preceded by a climate of division and dehumanization, and universities are often the breeding grounds for ideologies that either challenge or perpetuate these dynamics. Throughout history, some academic institutions have provided intellectual support to regimes that perpetrate genocide, whether through the training of military officers or the dissemination of harmful nationalist ideologies. 

Conversely, universities can also serve as platforms for the resistance against genocide, with professors and students leading efforts to expose atrocities, advocate for human rights, and prevent violence.  

The Higher Education Inquirer investigates how universities have both been complicit in, and resisted, the ideologies that fuel genocide. HEI explores the ways in which certain university-funded research or prominent academic figures have either contributed to genocidal narratives or become strong advocates for justice and reconciliation in the aftermath of such horrors.

Global Climate Change:

Climate change represents a massive, existential crisis that touches every part of society, and universities are both contributors to and leaders in tackling this challenge. 

HEI investigates how universities have been complicit in exacerbating the climate crisis—whether through fossil fuel investments, ties to unsustainable industries, or research that furthers environmentally harmful practices. At the same time, universities are also at the cutting edge of climate science, sustainable technologies, and environmental activism.  

The Higher Education Inquirer investigates whether universities are doing enough to address their own carbon footprints, promote sustainable practices on campus, and foster a generation of leaders who are committed to climate justice. In a world where universities are increasingly seen as both perpetrators of environmental degradation and potential agents of change, HEI’s investigative reporting is crucial in holding these institutions accountable.

Mass Incarceration:

The United States has one of the highest incarceration rates in the world, and universities are deeply involved in the systems that perpetuate this crisis. Many universities participate in research that supports law enforcement, surveillance technologies, or criminal justice policies, which can fuel the growth of the prison-industrial complex.  

The Higher Education Inquirer examines how higher education sustains and challenges mass incarceration. For instance, some universities benefit from partnerships with prisons, offering education programs to incarcerated individuals, but also facing criticism for their indirect role in perpetuating a system that disproportionately targets people of color.  

HEI investigates whether universities are actively working to dismantle mass incarceration through programs that promote restorative justice, education in prisons, or advocacy for systemic reform, or whether they are complicit in perpetuating the status quo through research and policy influence that supports harsh criminal justice policies.

Uniting These Issues:

The Higher Education Inquirer brings these issues together by demonstrating how universities are not isolated entities but integral parts of a global system that influences war, human rights, the environment, and justice. 

For example, universities that are heavily funded by military contracts should be implicated in fueling global conflict and war, while also contributing to climate change through the development of harmful technologies. At the same time, these same universities often fail to adequately address the ways in which their research, policies, and curricula shape or reinforce systemic racism and mass incarceration.

By following the muckraker tradition of exposing corruption and exploitation, HEI investigates how the pursuit of profit, power, and prestige within academia intersects with larger global crises. 

Investigative journalism that connects the dots between higher education, war, genocide, climate change, and mass incarceration is crucial to fully understanding these issues and holding institutions accountable for their roles in perpetuating or mitigating them. 

In the 2020s, when universities hold immense cultural, political, and economic power, the Higher Education Inquirer continues the legacy of the muckrakers by pushing for a more ethical, transparent, and socially responsible approach to higher education—one that reveals the problems of the world and to its solutions.

University Presidents Called to Action

Elite universities, long considered the pinnacle of higher education, have become increasingly entwined in a broader conversation about privilege, access, and power. From their controversial legacy admissions practices to their outsized political influence, these institutions are not merely places of learning—they are gatekeepers of social and economic power, shaping the future through both exclusion and influence. Beyond their academic roles, these universities have extended their reach into local communities, using their enormous wealth and influence to take control of land, shape urban landscapes, and solidify their power within regional politics.

The legacy admissions system, which provides preferential treatment to the children and grandchildren of alumni, is a glaring example of how these universities perpetuate privilege. Institutions such as Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Stanford—universities that consistently rank among the top in the nation—have long utilized this practice to ensure that the doors to elite education remain open to those already within the circles of power. By admitting students with lesser academic qualifications solely because of their family connections, these schools continue a long tradition of insularity, effectively reserving spaces for the wealthy and well-connected. Despite growing opposition, including recent moves by California’s private colleges to ban legacy admissions, the practice remains a powerful force, locking out more qualified, diverse applicants and ensuring that the privileged maintain access to elite institutions.

In addition to these admissions practices, elite universities exert considerable influence on the political landscape. The recent revelations about their political spending—millions funneled into federal campaigns, overwhelmingly favoring Democratic candidates—highlight a disturbing trend. Universities like Harvard, Stanford, and Johns Hopkins are not neutral players in the policy arena; they are active participants in shaping the very policies that benefit their interests. Whether it’s lobbying for federal funding, securing advantageous tax policies, or influencing regulations related to higher education, these universities use their wealth to protect and expand their power. These schools are not just centers of academic pursuit—they are political players in their own right, using their financial clout to shape the policies that govern education, tax law, and more.

Beyond their influence in academia and politics, elite universities increasingly exert power over the very land on which they sit. In many cities, top-tier universities like Harvard, Stanford, Columbia, and the University of Chicago are not just educational institutions—they are economic and political powerhouses. With multi-billion-dollar endowments, these institutions often wield more financial clout than entire cities. They routinely expand their campuses, purchasing properties, and in some cases, entire neighborhoods, often displacing long-standing communities in the process. This process, commonly known as "university-led gentrification," transforms urban spaces, driving up property values and rents while pushing out lower-income residents.

Universities often justify their land acquisitions as part of their mission to expand their campuses, build new research centers, and offer more housing for students and faculty. However, the impact on local communities can be severe. In many cases, universities use their tax-exempt status to avoid paying property taxes on the land they acquire, depriving local governments of revenue while also claiming a disproportionate share of urban space. This allows them to grow their influence without contributing fully to the neighborhoods in which they are embedded.

This land-grabbing behavior has sparked resistance in cities across the country. In Boston, for example, Harvard and MIT have been critiqued for taking over large swaths of land in the Allston and Kendall Square neighborhoods, displacing low-income residents and local businesses. In New York, Columbia’s expansion into Harlem sparked protests from community members who felt their homes and livelihoods were being sacrificed to the university’s growth. In many cases, these universities lobby local governments to secure favorable zoning laws, tax breaks, and exemptions that allow them to build at will and maintain their growing empire.

Both legacy admissions and political donations underscore a fundamental truth: elite universities are not just educational institutions—they are institutions of power. They maintain an oligarchic structure that privileges those already in positions of wealth and influence, while shaping local economies and political systems to ensure their continued dominance. By hoarding access to elite education, they perpetuate a system in which the children of the wealthy have a head start in both education and society, while simultaneously lobbying for policies that further cement their own influence. Through their land acquisitions, gentrification, political donations, and admissions practices, these universities continue to consolidate their power, reinforcing an elitist status quo that leaves many outside looking in.

In all of this, university presidents have increasingly positioned themselves as moral arbiters, asserting their institutions’ commitment to social justice, inclusion, and equality. Yet this moral high ground becomes precarious when their administrations take extreme measures to suppress resistance. Protests against their policies—whether regarding gentrification, climate change, or labor rights—are often met with heavy-handed tactics. University leaders, eager to preserve their public image, have been known to deploy security forces, call in the police, or even collaborate with local governments to disband protests. In some cases, these universities have resorted to legal action against student and faculty activists, silencing dissent through threats of discipline, expulsion, or other punitive measures.

This duplicity becomes even more apparent when considering the moral stands many university leaders take in public, promoting inclusivity, diversity, and progressive values, while simultaneously suppressing those who challenge their institution’s power dynamics. In the face of mounting resistance from marginalized communities or student groups, these leaders prefer to maintain control over their campuses and public narratives, often using administrative power to quash any movements that may disrupt the status quo.

Yet, history has shown that even the most entrenched systems can change, and university presidents are not beyond the possibility of transformation. Just as some figures in the Bible experienced profound revelations that led them to change course and right their wrongs, university leaders, too, can have moments of reckoning. Consider the example of King David, whose heart was changed after his confrontation with the prophet Nathan over his sin (2 Samuel 12). David, once blinded by his own power, repented and chose a path of humility and righteousness. In the same way, university presidents, confronted by the voices of resistance, public outcry, or moral awakening, could choose to lead their institutions toward a more just and equitable future. In the New Testament, Saul’s conversion on the road to Damascus (Acts 9) serves as another powerful reminder that no one is beyond redemption. Saul, who once persecuted early Christians, was transformed into Paul, one of the most influential apostles in Christian history. Similarly, a university president could choose to recognize the harm their institution has caused and decide to enact transformative policies that benefit marginalized communities and dismantle the systems of privilege they have helped sustain.

Moses is another figure whose story exemplifies the power of divine revelation to shift course. As a prince of Egypt, Moses had everything at his disposal, yet he chose to stand up to Pharaoh when he recognized the injustice of the Hebrew people’s oppression. His moment of conviction led him to free his people from slavery, even though it required courage to defy a powerful ruler (Exodus 3-4). In the same way, a university president must stand up to the powerful trustees and donors who expect to maintain the status quo. To act in the face of such resistance requires profound moral courage—a willingness to lead against entrenched interests that protect wealth and privilege.

Another key figure in the Old Testament is Esther, who displayed extraordinary courage in a moment of great moral clarity. She risked her life by standing up to King Xerxes to save the Jewish people from annihilation (Esther 4). As the queen, she was in a powerful position, but it was only when she realized the enormity of the injustice at hand that she chose to act. Similarly, university presidents with the power to challenge the status quo can, like Esther, use their positions to advocate for justice and equality, even if it means confronting powerful forces that wish to preserve an unjust order.

As university presidents come face to face with the overwhelming issues of racism, injustice, and climate chaos, there exists the possibility of moral revelation—a turning point where they confront the gravity of their actions and their institutions’ role in perpetuating harm. The growing calls for racial justice, fueled by movements like Black Lives Matter, demand an acknowledgment of the systemic racism embedded in these universities. Whether through the disproportionate representation of wealthy white students or the stark inequities in faculty and leadership diversity, these institutions must reckon with their participation in racial oppression. Similarly, as the climate crisis deepens, universities’ investments in fossil fuels and their ongoing complicity in the destruction of the environment have become focal points for student activists and global environmental movements. Universities, often perceived as beacons of progress, have a responsibility to divest from industries contributing to ecological collapse and instead use their vast resources for environmental justice.

And yet, one of the greatest challenges these university leaders will face lies not only in the resistance of external forces like protestors, activists, and the general public, but also in the powerful trustees and donors who hold significant sway over the institutions’ direction. Many universities are closely tied to wealthy benefactors and influential trustees whose interests often align with maintaining the status quo—whether through preserving investment strategies, political stances, or traditional admissions processes. These figures are not simply investors in the university's future; they are powerful stakeholders with the resources to shape institutional policies and procedures, often with little regard for social justice or environmental responsibility.

For a university president to truly lead with courage and integrity, they must be willing to go against these powerful forces. This would require challenging the entrenched interests of those who have long benefited from an elite, exclusionary system and are reluctant to embrace the radical changes needed to address systemic injustice. It takes immense fortitude to stand up to trustees and donors who view universities as tools for preserving their wealth and influence, rather than forces for good in the world.

But university presidents who choose to go against these forces can become true moral leaders. They can take inspiration from figures like Moses, who boldly defied Pharaoh’s power to liberate the oppressed, or Esther, whose bravery in standing up to the king saved her people (Esther 4). In doing so, they would not only transform their institutions but also serve as examples of ethical leadership in a time when such leadership is sorely needed.

The courage to defy powerful donors and trustees would mark a dramatic shift in how elite universities operate. Presidents could, if they choose, champion a new vision—one where social justice, racial equality, and environmental sustainability are at the forefront of institutional priorities. Just as Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt toward a promised land of freedom, so too could university presidents lead their institutions out of the grip of elitism and corporate influence, steering them toward a more equitable and just future.

Both legacy admissions, political donations, land control, and the suppression of protest point to a deeper issue: elite universities have built themselves into institutions of unparalleled power. These universities operate not only as educational establishments but also as political and economic entities, constantly reinforcing a structure of privilege, wealth, and exclusion. The dissonance between their public declarations of moral authority and their actions to protect entrenched power reveals the true nature of these institutions. They are not the bastions of free inquiry and social good they often claim to be—they are powerful, self-interested players in a system that serves to preserve the very inequalities they profess to challenge.

However, the possibility remains that these institutions—guided by transformative leadership—could embrace a new path. University presidents could heed the call for justice, as many leaders in history have, and change the trajectory of their institutions, opting to lead in ways that promote true equity, racial justice, and environmental stewardship. These universities—once seen as places of learning and opportunity—could become what they claim to be: inclusive, just, and truly committed to the betterment of society. They are the architects of the future they seek to create: one where the privileged no longer remain firmly entrenched at the top, and where political, economic, and educational structures are reshaped for the common good. Whether through legacy admissions, political spending, land control, or suppressing protest, these institutions continue to consolidate their power, but with the right leadership, they can still pivot toward a more just future—one that embodies the values they espouse.

[Editor's note: This essay, written for elite university presidents, is intended as a rhetorical device rather than a statement of facts. We find that everyone has their own "mythology" or set of mythologies they follow. As with all our work, we value your feedback.]

Blackboard Jungle 2025: How US Schools Failed and Why It Matters

In 2025 the state of American education is more precarious than ever. Many public schools, especially those in underfunded urban and rural areas, are failing their students. The term "failing schools" is often thrown around in political debates, but what does it actually mean? And how did we get here?

The Markers of Failure
Failing schools are characterized by a combination of low test scores, declining graduation rates, poor teacher retention, crumbling infrastructure, and high student absenteeism. These institutions often serve marginalized communities where poverty, crime, and systemic neglect create an uphill battle for education.

The Road to Failure
The crisis in education did not happen overnight. It is the result of decades of misguided policies, economic shifts, and societal neglect. Below are some of the key factors that have contributed to the decline of many schools:

Chronic Underfunding
Public schools rely heavily on local property taxes for funding, which means that schools in wealthy areas flourish while those in impoverished communities struggle to provide basic resources. 

Schools in affluent neighborhoods have modern facilities and abundant resources, while schools serving working class students operate in substandard conditions. 

Attempts to "reform" through privatization and the push for charter schools have only exacerbated the problem. Instead of addressing root causes, these reforms often drain public schools of resources, leaving them even more vulnerable.

The Era of Standardized Testing

Since the early 2000s, the focus on standardized testing has led to a "teach to the test" culture that stifles creativity, critical thinking, and real learning. Schools that fail to meet test score benchmarks face punitive measures rather than meaningful support.

Teacher Burnout and Shortages
Low salaries, lack of respect, increasing workloads, and political interference have driven many talented educators out of the profession. The teacher pipeline is drying up, leaving many schools with underqualified or temporary staff. 

Educators are often forced to contend with not only limited resources but also overwhelming emotional and physical demands that contribute to burnout. The constant critique of teachers and their work environment, compounded by insufficient support, drives educators out of the profession, leaving students without the consistent mentorship they need.

Privatization and Charter Expansion
The rise of charter schools and school voucher programs has siphoned funds from public schools, leaving them with fewer resources to educate the most vulnerable students, including those with disabilities and language barriers. 

The push for privatization is a form of "corporate education reform" that undermines public schooling. Rather than addressing root causes, these reforms often divert funds to entities more interested in profit than equity. Charter schools in some cases have exacerbated the inequalities they were meant to address.

Social and Economic Inequality
The challenges students face at home—such as food insecurity, lack of healthcare, and unstable housing—spill into the classroom. Schools cannot solve these problems alone, yet they are often expected to compensate for systemic failures in social services. 

Historical inequalities—rooted in race, class, and gender—have been perpetuated through institutions like education, often leaving marginalized communities at a disadvantage. The lack of support for students in poverty is not a new phenomenon but part of a long history of structural neglect.

Immigration                                                                                                                                Immigration brings both opportunities and challenges to different socioeconomic areas. In affluent neighborhoods, immigrants often contribute to cultural diversity, stimulate local economies, and fill highly skilled labor gaps, which enhances the overall prosperity of these communities. 

In working-class neighborhoods, the influx of immigrants can strain resources and services, leading to heightened competition for low-wage jobs and potential wage suppression. While some may thrive, others may experience economic hardship and decreased access to affordable housing and healthcare, creating disparities within these communities.

Violence and Safety Concerns
Mass shootings, gang violence, and bullying have made many schools unsafe. Metal detectors and police presence have not necessarily improved learning conditions, and in some cases, they have exacerbated tensions between students and faculty. 

Larger social forces at play include the militarization of society and its impact on the way schools are policed and students are treated. The criminalization of students, particularly students of color, has led to an environment where educational spaces are seen as places of fear rather than learning.

Why This Matters
Failing schools do not just affect individual students; they have profound implications for the workforce, the economy, and democracy itself. Poor education leads to lower earning potential, increased crime rates, and a disengaged electorate. 

If we continue to neglect our schools, we risk deepening inequality and weakening the fabric of our society. The consequences of educational inequity are far-reaching, affecting not only the students directly impacted but also the future of communities, economies, and the nation as a whole.

This is a broader reflection of a society where the interests of the wealthy are prioritized over the needs of the marginalized, reinforcing cycles of poverty and injustice. If educational opportunities remain unequal, democracy itself is at risk, as people from underprivileged backgrounds are denied the tools to engage critically with society and its political structures.

What Other Nations Are Doing: Lessons from Abroad                                                                      While the United States of America struggles with these deep-rooted issues, other nations have found ways to achieve better outcomes in education by focusing on equality, teacher support, and broadening the definition of success beyond standardized testing.

Finland: A Model of Equity and Teacher Respect
Finland has long been held up as a model of educational excellence. One of its core principles is equality. Finnish schools ensure that all students, regardless of background, have access to high-quality education. Teachers in Finland are highly trained (requiring a master’s degree), well-compensated, and respected as professionals. Unlike the U.S., Finland has largely avoided the pitfalls of standardized testing, focusing instead on a holistic approach to education that values critical thinking, creativity, and individual growth. This model shows that when teachers are supported and empowered, students thrive.

South Korea: Education as a National Priority
South Korea places a high cultural value on education, with rigorous academic standards and a highly motivated student body. However, unlike the U.S., the country provides significant government investment in education, ensuring that public schools are well-funded and that there are resources available to support students. In addition, after-school programs and tutoring are common, helping to bridge gaps for students who may need extra assistance. This holistic approach to supporting students, both inside and outside of school, contrasts sharply with the U.S. approach of leaving many schools to fend for themselves without sufficient resources.

Japan: Focus on Social Emotional Learning and Collaborative Learning
Japan’s education system is grounded in social emotional learning, emphasizing respect, discipline, and collaboration over competition. Schools focus not only on academic achievement but also on developing students’ interpersonal and social skills. Teachers work closely with students to create a supportive learning environment where collaboration is prioritized. This focus on emotional and social development creates a more balanced and well-rounded educational experience. In the U.S., social emotional learning is often sidelined in favor of academics and test scores, but Japan’s success shows that nurturing the whole child leads to better outcomes overall.

Canada: Supportive Communities and Inclusivity
Canada’s approach to education is centered on inclusivity, ensuring that marginalized groups—whether they be Indigenous communities, newcomers, or children with disabilities—receive the support they need to succeed. The Canadian model places a heavy emphasis on community involvement in schools, and local governments play a key role in ensuring that educational programs are tailored to meet the unique needs of their populations. This inclusive, community-driven approach contrasts with the U.S. focus on market-driven reforms and privatization, showing that investing in public education for all students pays off in the long run.

The Way Forward                                                                                                                        Reversing this trend requires a fundamental shift in priorities, which are unlikely to happen in the near term in the United States of America.  But it could happen in individual states that value justice and fairness and are willing to lead. 

Policymakers must commit to fully funding public education, reforming assessment methods, supporting teachers, and addressing social inequalities that impact learning. Communities must also demand accountability from leaders and support initiatives that uplift students rather than punish them for systemic failures.

Looking beyond our borders, Finland, South Korea, Japan, and Canada offer valuable lessons on how to create equitable, supportive, and high-performing educational systems. These countries demonstrate that with the right priorities—such as teacher respect, equality of opportunity, community involvement, and a broader definition of success—educational systems can overcome even the deepest challenges.

HEI and the Nature of Work

The Higher Education Inquirer (HEI) champions the rights of academic workers and critically examines the changing landscape of work in higher education, connecting it to broader economic trends

Focus on Adjunct Faculty and Labor Conditions:

HEI frequently highlights the precarious working conditions of adjunct faculty (grad assistants, contingent instructors, and researchers) who make up a significant portion of the teaching workforce in higher education, especially in online programs. It draws attention to issues such as low pay, lack of job security, limited benefits, and the increasing reliance on contingent labor in academia. This coverage exposes the exploitation of academic workers and its impact on educational quality.

Connection Between Education and Employment:

The Higher Education Inquirer explores the link between higher education and the job market, questioning whether certain programs adequately prepare students for gainful employment. It raises concerns about "hypercredentialism," where degrees become mere "tickets to be punched" without necessarily leading to meaningful work or sufficient income to repay student loans. HEI investigates the job placement rates of graduates from different types of institutions, particularly for-profit colleges and online programs, and highlights instances where these rates may be misleading or inflated.

Impact of Technology on Work:

 The Higher Education Inquirer examines how technology is changing the nature of work, both within and outside of higher education. It discusses the rise of the "gig economy" and the increasing prevalence of precarious employment in the tech sector and related industries. The publication explores the potential for automation and artificial intelligence to displace human workers, raising concerns about job security and the future of work. This technological shift is often driven by corporate interests, which HEI critically examines. 

Critique of Corporate Influence and Profit-Driven Models:

HEI is critical of the increasing influence of corporations and profit-driven models in higher education and the broader economy. We argue that the pursuit of profit often comes at the expense of workers' rights, job quality, and the overall well-being of individuals. This critique extends to the "tech bro" culture and its emphasis on maximizing profits and technological advancement, often without regard for the social and economic consequences.

Advocacy for Workers and a More Equitable Economy:

The Higher Education Inquirer advocates for fair labor practices, decent wages, and greater economic equality. It supports efforts to organize workers and challenge exploitative practices in various industries, including higher education. The publication promotes a more human-centered approach to work, emphasizing the importance of meaningful employment, job security, and a balance between work and life.

The Higher Education Inquirer provides significant coverage of labor strikes, particularly those within the higher education sector. HEI offers detailed accounts of specific labor strikes, providing context, timelines, and analysis of the issues at stake. For example, they've covered:

The 2022 strike of 48,000 workers (including those represented by the UAW) against the University of California System.

The 2023 Rutgers University strike.

The August 2024 strike by UAW Region 9 workers at Cornell University.

Focus on the Underlying Issues: The Higher Education Inquirer goes beyond simply reporting on the events of a strike. They delve into the root causes, such as: low wages and inadequate benefits for academic workers (including graduate students, adjuncts, and other staff), job insecurity and the increasing reliance on contingent labor, issues related to fair contracts, bargaining in good faith, and protection of union activity, and the impact of university policies and management decisions on workers' rights and well-being.

Highlighting the Voices of Workers:

HEI often includes the perspectives and experiences of the striking workers themselves, giving them a platform to share their stories and explain their reasons for striking. This humanizes the issues and provides a more personal understanding of the impact of labor disputes. 

Connecting Strikes to Broader Trends

The Higher Education Inquirer connects individual strikes to larger trends in higher education and the economy, such as: The increasing corporatization of universities. The rise of precarious employment and the gig economy. The growing gap between executive compensation and worker wages. The impact of austerity measures and budget cuts on public institutions.

Advocacy for Workers' Rights and Collective Action

HEI supports the right of workers to organize and strike for better working conditions. They frame labor strikes as a legitimate and necessary tool for workers to exercise their power and demand fair treatment.

The Higher Education Inquirer views the nature of work as an integral part of the larger discussion about higher education. It recognizes that education is often linked to employment outcomes and that the quality of work available to graduates is a crucial factor in determining the value of a degree. By examining the working conditions of academic staff, the connection between education and employment, and the broader impact of technology and corporate influence on the labor market, the Higher Education Inquirer provides a comprehensive and critical perspective on the nature of work in the 21st century.