In recent years, the rise of organizations like Canary Mission has raised serious concerns about the state of free speech, academic freedom, and democracy on American college campuses. Operating under the guise of combating anti-Semitism and extremism, Canary Mission’s tactics and objectives have sparked widespread debate about its impact on campus life and the broader implications for democracy in the U.S.
Who is Canary Mission?
Founded in 2015, Canary Mission is a controversial online platform that compiles and publishes dossiers on students, professors, and organizations it deems to be associated with anti-Semitism or support for groups like Hamas or Hezbollah. While it claims to be an anti-extremist initiative, critics argue that Canary Mission’s activities are part of a broader, coordinated effort to silence pro-Palestinian voices, suppress critical discourse, and undermine academic freedom.
The organization's name derives from the "canary in the coal mine" metaphor, suggesting that it is warning the public about supposed dangers related to individuals and groups it monitors. But in practice, Canary Mission’s database often targets individuals solely for their political views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, with no proven ties to terrorism or violence. Students, particularly those involved in pro-Palestinian activism or who criticize Israel’s policies, have found themselves the subject of detailed and often misleading profiles that can haunt their careers.
The impact of Canary Mission is far-reaching: students who appear on the site have reported facing backlash in the form of social ostracism, job discrimination, and even legal action, all because their political activities or beliefs have been highlighted on this platform. Canary Mission’s website claims to provide a “public service” by exposing individuals “advocating for hate,” but its methods often conflate political activism with extremism, which can create an atmosphere of fear and self-censorship within academic circles.
Funding and Connections
Canary Mission’s funding sources remain somewhat opaque, which raises questions about its backing and potential influence. According to investigative reports and public disclosures, it is widely believed that the organization is funded by a network of right-wing pro-Israel groups, including wealthy donors, philanthropic organizations, and think tanks like the Simon Wiesenthal Center and the Foundation for Defense of Democracies. These connections underscore a broader ideological agenda that aligns with certain political interests, particularly those that aim to stifle critical discussions surrounding Israel’s policies and its occupation of Palestine.
The secrecy surrounding its financial backing and the lack of transparency in its operations have led many to draw parallels between Canary Mission and other shadowy entities designed to police speech and dissent. It appears to operate in the shadows, with little public oversight or accountability. This lack of transparency further erodes trust in its motivations and methods.
Undermining Democracy and Free Speech
At its core, Canary Mission's activities are a direct attack on the fundamental principles of democracy: free speech and the right to dissent. In a healthy democracy, universities serve as incubators for diverse ideas, where students are encouraged to debate and challenge ideas without fear of retribution. However, by tracking and blacklisting individuals who express views about Israel, Palestine, or other sensitive geopolitical issues, Canary Mission is chilling free expression on campuses across the country.
The organization’s efforts to publicly shame individuals who participate in peaceful political activism not only threatens their personal and professional futures but also discourages others from speaking out. In effect, it promotes an atmosphere of fear where students are reluctant to engage in legitimate political discourse out of concern for being targeted.
Moreover, Canary Mission’s activities can create a toxic, polarized environment on campuses. By labeling individuals as extremists based on their political positions rather than their actions or behaviors, the organization fuels division and resentment. This undermines the civil discourse that should thrive in academic settings, where ideas are meant to be debated and critically examined. Instead, it creates an echo chamber that only accepts one viewpoint, forcing out dissent and opposition.
The claim that Canary Mission is a controversial organization that undermines democracy on U.S. campuses can be supported by multiple sources from investigative journalists, academic scholars, and civil rights organizations who have analyzed the organization's activities. Here are a few sources that substantiate the concerns regarding Canary Mission:
The New York Times (2016) – An article titled "A Shadowy Online Group Is Targeting American Students" highlights the growing concerns about Canary Mission's activities and its impact on free speech on campuses. The piece discusses how students, particularly those involved in pro-Palestinian activism, are being targeted and profiled on the platform, leading to career and personal repercussions.
The Electronic Intifada (2016) – This online news platform dedicated to issues surrounding Palestine and Israel published several articles that discuss how Canary Mission disproportionately targets students and activists critical of Israeli policies. The site’s reports argue that the platform acts as an intimidation tool against those who challenge mainstream narratives regarding Israel.
The Center for Constitutional Rights (CCR) – The CCR has expressed concern over the chilling effects Canary Mission has on academic freedom and free speech. They highlight how the organization often labels political activism as extremism, without proper evidence, and argues that it is a form of political repression aimed at silencing certain voices.
The Forward (2018) – A Jewish publication, The Forward ran a story detailing how Canary Mission had led to the harassment and blacklisting of students, and how its methods were drawing criticism from many who saw it as an attack on academic freedom.
Anti-Defamation League (ADL) Reports – While the ADL has supported efforts to combat anti-Semitism, they have also raised concerns about the unintended consequences of organizations like Canary Mission, suggesting that their approach to monitoring student activism can blur the line between legitimate political expression and hate speech.
The Guardian (2017) – A Guardian article explored how Canary Mission's controversial practices affected student life, particularly those involved in the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) movement. The article discusses the potential damage to reputations and careers due to Canary Mission's online blacklist.
The Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) – The SPLC has been vocal about the ways in which Canary Mission’s tactics align with other surveillance programs aimed at quelling dissent. The SPLC has voiced concern about its potential for misusing "extremism" labels to stifle legitimate political views, undermining democracy and the right to free speech.
Canary Mission's efforts to stifle free speech and intimidate those who hold opposing views on sensitive political issues like the Israeli-Palestinian conflict represent a dangerous erosion of democratic values in American higher education. By using fear, intimidation, and a lack of transparency to silence critical voices, it undermines the very foundation of academic freedom and democratic engagement.
Universities should be spaces where open dialogue and differing opinions are encouraged, not spaces where students are targeted for their political beliefs. As the influence of groups like Canary Mission continues to grow, it is imperative that the broader academic community pushes back against these efforts and defends the principles of free speech, democratic engagement, and intellectual diversity. Without these values, our campuses—and our democracy—will be all the poorer for it.
When Donald Trump and his political allies go after elite universities like Harvard, Columbia, and the University of Pennsylvania, it’s easy—too easy—for defenders of higher education to circle the wagons. We’re told that these attacks are a threat to academic freedom, to knowledge, even to democracy itself.
There’s some truth to that. But let’s not romanticize the institutions being targeted. Elite universities are not innocent victims in America’s democratic unraveling. They have, for decades, cultivated privilege, preserved inequality, and insulated themselves from the real-world consequences of their decisions. If we’re going to talk honestly about the dangers of anti-intellectualism, we must also confront the failures of the so-called intellectual elite.
That said, the Trump movement’s war on expertise, critical thinking, and education isn't aimed at reforming these institutions—it’s about dismantling the very idea of an informed, questioning citizenry. And that’s where the true danger lies.
Elite Universities: Power Without Accountability
Let’s start with the obvious: the Ivy League and its peers are deeply complicit in America’s meritocratic mythology. They’ve served as finishing schools for the ruling class, minting the bankers, judges, presidents, and policymakers who have overseen widening inequality, endless wars, mass incarceration, and climate inaction.
These schools have protected legacy admissions, turned a blind eye to labor exploitation on their campuses, and sat on billion-dollar endowments while adjunct faculty and graduate workers scrape by. They have not been champions of democracy so much as guardians of a highly stratified status quo.
So when critics accuse them of elitism, they’re not entirely wrong. But the Trump-era populism that claims to speak for “the people” doesn’t aim to democratize education—it aims to destroy its democratic function altogether.
The Real Target: Critical Thought
The Trump Administration's true grievance isn’t with elite universities per se; it’s with what these institutions represent in the public imagination: facts, complexity, and the right to question power. This resentment manifests in everything from attacks on “woke” curricula to efforts to ban books and gut public education.
The Trumpist strategy is clear: discredit intellectual institutions not to make them more accountable, but to replace expertise with loyalty, and dialogue with propaganda. This isn’t about fixing higher education. It’s about gutting the tools people need to resist authoritarianism—tools like historical context, scientific reasoning, and moral imagination.
And while elite universities may have failed to democratize knowledge, they are still among the few places where critical inquiry is possible. For all their hypocrisy, they produce some of the research and dialogue that fuels social progress. That’s precisely why they’re under attack.
The Cost of Cynicism
It's tempting to dismiss the fight over academia as a clash between out-of-touch elites and performative populists. But this is bigger than a feud between two privileged factions. At stake is whether truth itself still matters in American political life.
Yes, universities need to be held accountable—for their exclusivity, for their economic entrenchment, for their detachment from working-class realities. But that critique must be grounded in a desire to expand and democratize knowledge, not to destroy it.
Trumpism offers no such vision. It’s not trying to fix a broken higher ed system; it’s trying to ensure fewer people can question the system at all.
A Choice for the Future
We shouldn’t fall into the trap of defending elite universities just because Trump attacks them. Nor should we accept the false populism that scapegoats education while consolidating power in the hands of the ignorant and the loyal.
The choice we face is not between Ivy League hypocrisy and Trumpian anti-intellectualism. It’s between a democracy that values critical thought and a movement that seeks to suppress it—between a flawed system that can be reformed and an ideology that rejects the very notion of reform.
If we care about democracy, we must critique our institutions honestly—and defend the democratic values they too often betray but must ultimately uphold.
In the digital age, surveillance has become a pervasive aspect of daily life. It reaches far beyond the government’s watchful eye; it infiltrates our personal spaces, our interactions, and even our educational institutions. In the United States, universities and colleges—typically seen as bastions of free thought and intellectual exploration—have, over the years, quietly embraced practices that align more with authoritarian surveillance than the fostering of academic freedom. The result is an unsettling convergence of education, technology, and control that deserves close scrutiny.
The Rise of Mass Surveillance in U.S. Higher Education
Mass surveillance is not a concept confined solely to government agencies or the private sector. U.S. colleges and universities have increasingly adopted surveillance technologies, often in ways that blur the lines between student safety, security, and governmental overreach. The methods used are diverse: from sophisticated digital monitoring of online activity to the installation of cameras throughout campuses, as well as the tracking of students’ movements and behaviors.
On-Campus Surveillance
Many campuses are equipped with thousands of security cameras, often without students' knowledge of the exact extent of their monitoring. These cameras track students' movements around buildings, dorms, and even outdoor spaces. Security personnel, working alongside private contractors, have access to this footage, creating a network of real-time surveillance. Additionally, some universities have partnered with police departments or government entities to share data from campus surveillance, effectively extending the government’s reach into spaces historically seen as separate from state control.
In some instances, universities have utilized facial recognition technology—a tool that, while growing in popularity among law enforcement and private corporations, is still highly controversial due to concerns about privacy, accuracy, and racial biases. Campuses like the University of California, Berkeley, and George Washington University have implemented or explored the use of facial recognition, drawing criticism from civil rights groups who argue that such technologies contribute to surveillance regimes that disproportionately target marginalized communities.
Digital Surveillance: Monitoring Online Activity
In the realm of digital surveillance, universities have also emerged as key players. The rapid digitization of academic spaces has made it easier for educational institutions to monitor and record students' online activities, including emails, internet browsing habits, and even participation in online discussions. These tools, ostensibly designed to protect students from online threats or cheating, can also be used to track the political views or social connections of students and faculty members.
University systems that monitor students' academic behavior are often integrated with third-party services that collect vast amounts of data. Companies like Google, which provide software for research and communication, have been instrumental in creating environments where personal data can be easily harvested and stored. As a result, students and faculty members are under constant scrutiny, even if they are unaware of the depth of data being collected on them.
Off-Campus Surveillance and Law Enforcement
While much of the surveillance happens on university grounds, the cooperation between educational institutions and law enforcement extends far beyond campus boundaries. Many universities share information with federal agencies like the FBI or local police departments, creating a synergy of surveillance that goes beyond the walls of academia. This collaboration is often justified as part of maintaining national security or preventing crimes, but it carries profound implications for privacy and civil liberties.
After the 9/11 attacks, for example, universities in the U.S. were encouraged to collaborate with federal intelligence agencies under the auspices of the USA PATRIOT Act and other anti-terrorism measures. This led to the surveillance of students’ political activities, associations, and even participation in protests. While much of this occurred covertly, the ramifications were far-reaching, particularly for marginalized groups who found themselves disproportionately surveilled due to their activism.
Surveillance of International Students: A First Step Toward Widespread Control
One of the most chilling aspects of surveillance on U.S. campuses is the specific targeting of international students. Historically, international students have been a vulnerable demographic in the context of surveillance and control. This began in earnest post-9/11, when the U.S. government imposed stricter regulations on foreign students, requiring universities to report on students' status, academic performance, and even their physical locations.
The Student and Exchange Visitor Information System (SEVIS) was established to track international students in real-time, linking student data to immigration and law enforcement agencies. While this system was presented as a means of ensuring national security, it effectively treated international students as suspects, placing them under heightened scrutiny. Universities, in turn, became instruments of surveillance, forced to comply with federal mandates to report any changes in a student's enrollment status, academic performance, or even the duration of their stay in the U.S.
For international students, this surveillance has been particularly invasive, as their movements—whether related to academic matters or personal lives—are constantly monitored by both their institutions and government entities. The stigma of being under the microscope contributes to a sense of alienation and powerlessness. It also encourages conformity, making it difficult for international students to freely express political or ideological dissent for fear of jeopardizing their academic status or immigration status.
The Threat of TPUSA’s Professor Watchlist
Another troubling element of surveillance within higher education is the growing trend of surveillance outside official university systems. Conservative student groups, particularly Turning Point USA (TPUSA), have taken it upon themselves to monitor and track the activities of professors whose political views they deem “liberal” or “left-wing.” One of TPUSA’s most controversial initiatives has been the creation of the Professor Watchlist, which compiles and publicly names professors accused of engaging in “liberal indoctrination” or promoting “liberal agendas.”
While TPUSA claims the Professor Watchlist is a tool to expose bias in academia, its purpose appears to be less about fostering academic debate and more about intimidating faculty members and curbing academic freedom. Professors listed on the watchlist are often subjected to harassment, threats, and, in some cases, professional repercussions, as conservative groups or donors seek to pressure universities into disciplining or firing faculty. The Watchlist represents a form of extrajudicial surveillance—non-governmental in origin but with highly political aims.
The real danger of such initiatives lies in their ability to undermine the independence of higher education. It is not just the professors listed who are impacted, but the entire academic community. Faculty members may begin to self-censor, avoiding controversial or politically sensitive topics for fear of being targeted, and students may find their ability to engage in free inquiry increasingly stifled.
The Professor Watchlist serves as a reminder that surveillance of academic institutions is not just the work of government agencies or private corporations; it is also deeply politicized, with various ideological groups using the tools of surveillance to exert control over education and the intellectual freedoms that it should represent.
Little Resistance: The Silence of Academia
Despite these troubling developments, resistance within academia has been minimal. Universities, which are supposed to serve as protectors of free speech, intellectual diversity, and civil liberties, have largely failed to challenge the growing surveillance apparatus both on and off their campuses. This silence is not without reason—many academic institutions have willingly participated in these surveillance efforts, citing concerns over campus security, student safety, and the desire to combat terrorism.
Additionally, many students and faculty members have become desensitized to surveillance. A generation raised in the digital age, where privacy is increasingly an afterthought and constant connectivity is the norm, may not fully grasp the implications of mass surveillance. Those who do speak out often find themselves at odds with institutional priorities or are silenced by threats of punishment, surveillance of their own activities, or other forms of retaliation.
The fear of retribution has also led to a chilling effect on dissent. Students who voice political opinions, especially those that challenge the status quo, may find themselves under increased scrutiny. This environment creates a culture where conformity reigns, and open discourse is stifled, not necessarily by overt repression, but by the omnipresent surveillance that discourages any behavior that might be deemed "out of line."
Mass Surveillance as a Tool of Authoritarianism and Fascism
The convergence of surveillance practices on college campuses with broader state interests should not be dismissed as incidental. Throughout history, mass surveillance has been a hallmark of authoritarian and fascist regimes. From Stalinist Russia to Nazi Germany, the power to monitor and control individuals through surveillance has been a tool used by oppressive governments to stifle dissent, control behavior, and consolidate power.
In a fascist regime, surveillance serves not just as a means of security, but as a tool of indoctrination and social control. The existence of surveillance constantly reminds individuals that they are being watched, creating a pervasive sense of fear and self-censorship. The same mechanism is increasingly visible in today’s U.S. higher education system, where students and faculty members may unconsciously internalize the need to comply with institutional norms, which are often shaped by external pressures from governmental and corporate entities.
The Implications for Democracy
The implications of this trend are far-reaching. When educational institutions no longer stand as a safe space for the free exchange of ideas, when they themselves become complicit in the surveillance of their own communities, it erodes the very foundation of democratic society. Free thought and intellectual exploration—the core tenets of higher education—cannot thrive in an atmosphere of constant monitoring and fear.
Mass surveillance on campuses also reinforces systemic inequalities. As surveillance technologies disproportionately affect marginalized groups—whether due to racial profiling, political dissent, or nationality—it contributes to a broader structure of control that undermines the principles of equal treatment and justice. In a society where the surveillance state extends into universities, it’s not hard to imagine a future where academic freedom becomes a thing of the past, with institutions serving instead as instruments of political and corporate control.
Resisting Creeping Authoritarianism
The role of U.S. higher education in the rise of mass surveillance—both on and off-campus—raises serious concerns about privacy, freedom, and the future of democratic values. Universities, which once stood as symbols of intellectual autonomy, are now complicit in the surveillance mechanisms that have come to define authoritarian and fascist regimes. The lack of widespread resistance from within academia only exacerbates the situation, highlighting the need for a renewed commitment to the values of free thought and privacy.
If we are to preserve the integrity of higher education as a space for critical thinking and dissent, we must confront the creeping normalization of surveillance in these institutions. It’s time for students, faculty, and administrators to take a stand, not just against the overt surveillance on campus, but against the creeping authoritarianism that it represents in the broader context of our society. The fight for academic freedom and privacy is not just a fight for the rights of students and educators—it’s a fight for the soul of democracy itself.
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Trump appears bent on ridding schools of dangerous practices like critical thinking and an unsanitized study of history.
In the initial days of his second term, President Donald Trump issued several executive orders “seeking
to control how schools teach about race and gender, direct more tax
dollars to private schools, and deport pro-Palestinian protesters.” On January 29, 2025, he signed the “Ending Radical Indoctrination in K-12 Schooling”
executive order, which mandates the elimination of curricula that the
administration deems as promoting “radical, anti-American ideologies.”
This executive order is not just an attack on critical race theory or
teachings about systemic racism — it is a cornerstone of an
authoritarian ideology designed to eliminate critical thought, suppress
historical truth and strip educators of their autonomy. Under the guise
of combating “divisiveness,” it advances a broader war on education as a
democratizing force, turning schools into dead zones of the
imagination. By threatening to strip federal funding from institutions
that refuse to conform, this policy functions as an instrument of
ideological indoctrination, enforcing a sanitized, nationalistic
narrative that erases histories of oppression and resistance while
deepening a culture of ignorance and compliance.
Concurrently, President Trump issued the “Expanding Educational Freedom and Opportunity for Families”
executive order, aiming to enhance school choice by redirecting federal
funds to support charter schools and voucher programs. This policy
enables parents to use public funds for private and religious school
tuition. While proponents claim that this legislation empowers parents
and fosters competition, in reality, it is a calculated effort to defund
and privatize public education, undermining it as a democratizing
public good. As part of a broader far right assault on education, this
policy redirects essential resources away from public schools, deepening
educational inequality and advancing an agenda that seeks to erode
public investment in a just and equitable society.
In the name of eliminating radical indoctrination in schools, a third executive order,
which purportedly aims at ending antisemitism, threatens to deport
pro-Palestinian student protesters by revoking their visas, warning that even those legally in the country could be targeted
for their political views. In a stark display of authoritarianism,
Trump’s executive order unapologetically stated that free speech would
not be tolerated. Reuters
made this clear in reporting that one fact sheet ominously declared: “I
will … quickly cancel the student visas of all Hamas sympathizers on
college campuses, which have been infested with radicalism like never
before. To all the resident aliens who joined in the pro-jihadist
protests, we put you on notice: come 2025, we will find you, and we will
deport you.”
By gutting federal oversight, he is handing the fate of education to
reactionary state legislatures and corporate interests, ensuring that
knowledge is shaped by a state held captive by billionaires and far
right extremists. This is the logic of authoritarianism: to hollow out
democratic institutions and replace education with white Christian
propaganda and a pedagogy of repression. At issue here is an attempt to
render an entire generation defenseless against the very forces seeking
to dominate them.
What we are witnessing is not just an educational crisis but a
full-scale war on institutions that not only defend democracy but enable
it. What is under siege in this attack is not only the critical
function of education but the very notion that it should be defined
through its vision of creating a central feature of democracy, educating
informed and critically engaged citizens.
These executive actions represent an upgraded and broader version of
McCarthyite and apartheid-era education that seeks to dictate how
schools teach about race and gender, funnel more taxpayer dollars into
private institutions, and deport Palestinian protesters. The irony is
striking: The White House defends these regressive measures of
sanitizing history, stripping away the rights of transgender students
and erasing critical race theory as efforts to “end indoctrination in
American education.” In truth, this is not about the pursuit of freedom
or open inquiry, nor is it about fostering an education that cultivates
informed, critically engaged citizens. At its core, this agenda is a
deliberate attack on education as a public good — one that threatens to
dismantle not only public institutions, but the very essence of public
and higher education and its culture of criticism and democracy. The
urgency of this moment cannot be overstated: The future of education
itself is at stake.
In the raging currents of contemporary political and cultural life,
where fascist ideologies are rising, one of the most insidious and
all-encompassing forces at play is the violence of forgetting — a plague
of historical amnesia. This phenomenon, which I have referred to as “organized forgetting,”
describes the systemic erasure of history and its violent consequences,
particularly in the public sphere. This is especially evident in the
current historical moment, when books are banned in
libraries, public schools and higher education across countries, such
as the United States, Hungary, India, China and Russia. Ignoring past
atrocities, historical injustices and uncomfortable truths about a
society’s foundation is not merely an oversight — it constitutes an
active form of violence that shapes both our collective consciousness
and political realities. What we are witnessing here is an assault by
the far right on memory that is inseparable from what Maximillian
Alvarez describes as a battle over power — over who is remembered, who
is erased, who is cast aside and who is forcibly reduced to something
less than human. This struggle is not just about history; it is about
whose stories are allowed to shape the present and the future. Alvarez captures this reality with striking clarity and is worth quoting at length:
Among the prizes at stake in the endless war of politics is history
itself. The battle for power is always a battle to determine who gets
remembered, how they will be recalled, where and in what forms their
memories will be preserved. In this battle, there is no room for neutral
parties: every history and counter-history must fight and scrap and
claw and spread and lodge itself in the world, lest it be forgotten or
forcibly erased. All history, in this sense, is the history of empire — a
bid for control of that greatest expanse of territory, the past.
Organized forgetting also helped fuel the resurgence of Donald Trump,
as truth and reason are being systematically replaced by lies,
corruption, denial and the weaponization of memory itself. A culture of
questioning, critique and vision is not simply disappearing in the
United States — it is actively maligned, disparaged and replaced by a
darkness that, as Ezra Klein
observes, is “stupefyingly vast, stretching from self-destructive
incompetence to muddling incoherence to authoritarian consolidation.”
This erosion affects institutions of law, civil society and education
— pillars that rely on memory, informed judgment and evidence to foster
historical understanding and civic responsibility. The attack on the
common good goes beyond the distractions of an “attention economy”designed
to distort reality; it reflects a deliberate effort to sever the ties
between history and meaning. Time is reduced to fragmented episodes,
stripped of the shared narratives that connect the past, present and
future.
This crisis embodies a profound collapse of memory, history,
education and democracy itself. A culture of manufactured ignorance —
rooted in the rejection of history, facts and critical thought — erases
accountability for electing a leader who incited insurrection and
branded his opponents as “enemies from within.” Such authoritarian
politics thrive on historical amnesia, lulling society into passivity,
eroding collective memory and subverting civic agency. This is
epitomized by Trump’s declaration
on “Fox & Friends” that he would punish schools that teach students
accurate U.S. history, including about slavery and racism in the
country. The call to silence dangerous memories is inseparable from the
violence of state terrorism — a force that censors and dehumanizes
dissent, escalating to the punishment, torture and imprisonment of
truth-tellers and critics who dare to hold oppressive power accountable.
At its core, the violence of forgetting operates through the denial
and distortion of historical events, particularly those that challenge
the dominant narratives of power. From the colonial atrocities and the
struggles for civil rights to the history of Palestine-Israel relations,
many of the most significant chapters of history are either glossed
over or erased altogether. This strategic omission serves the interests
of those in power, enabling them to maintain control by silencing
inconvenient truths. As the historian Timothy Snyder
reminds us, by refusing to acknowledge the violence of the past,
society makes it far easier to perpetuate injustices in the present. The
politics of organized forgetting, the censoring of history and the
attack on historical consciousness are fundamental to the rise of far
right voices in the U.S. and across the world.
With the rise of regressive memory laws, designed to repress what
authoritarian governments consider dangerous and radical interpretations
of a country’s past, historical consciousness is transformed into a
form of historical amnesia. One vivid example of a regressive memory law
was enacted by Trump during his first term. The 1776 Report,
which right-wingers defended as a “restoration of American education,”
was in fact an attempt to eliminate from the teaching of history any
reference to a legacy of colonialism, slavery and movements which
highlighted elements of American history that were unconscionable,
anti-democratic and morally repugnant. Snyder highlights the emergence
of memory laws in a number of states. He writes in a 2021 New York Times article:
As of this writing, five states (Idaho, Iowa, Tennessee, Texas and
Oklahoma) have passed laws that direct and restrict discussions of
history in classrooms. The Department of Education of a sixth (Florida)
has passed guidelines with the same effect. Another 12 state
legislatures are still considering memory laws. The particulars of these
laws vary. The Idaho law is the most Kafkaesque in its censorship: It
affirms freedom of speech and then bans divisive speech. The Iowa law
executes the same totalitarian pirouette. The Tennessee and Texas laws
go furthest in specifying what teachers may and may not say. In
Tennessee teachers must not teach that the rule of law is “a series of
power relationships and struggles among racial or other groups.”… The
Idaho law mentions Critical Race Theory; the directive from the Florida
school board bans it in classrooms. The Texas law forbids teachers from
requiring students to understand the 1619 Project. It is a perverse
goal: Teachers succeed if students do not understand something.
A major aspect of this forgetting and erasure of historical memory is the role of ignorance,
which has become not just widespread but weaponized in modern times.
Ignorance, particularly in U.S. society, has shifted from being a
passive lack of knowledge to an active refusal to engage with critical
issues. This is amplified by the spectacle-driven nature of contemporary
media and the increasing normalization of a culture of lies and the
embrace of a language of violence, which not only thrives on distraction
rather than reflection, but has become a powerful force for spreading
bigotry, racial hatred and right-wing lies. In addition, the mainstream
media’s obsession with spectacle — be it political drama, celebrity
culture or sensationalist stories — often overshadows the more
important, yet less glamorous, discussions about historical violence and
systemic injustice.
This intellectual neglect allows for a dangerous cycle to persist,
where the erasure of history enables the continuation of violence and
oppression. Systems of power benefit from this amnesia, as it allows
them to maintain the status quo without having to answer for past
wrongs. When society refuses to remember or address past injustices —
whether it’s slavery, imperialism or economic exploitation — those in
power can continue to exploit the present without fear of historical
accountability.
To strip education of its critical power is to rob democracy of its transformative potential.
The cultural impact of this organized forgetting is profound. Not
only does it create a void in public memory, but it also stunts
collective growth. Without the lessons of the past, it becomes nearly
impossible to learn from mistakes and address the root causes of social
inequalities. The failure to remember makes it harder to demand
meaningful change, while reproducing and legitimating ongoing far right
assaults on democracy.
The violence of organized forgetting is not a mere act of neglect; it
is a deliberate cultural and intellectual assault that undercuts the
foundations of any meaningful democracy. By erasing the past, society
implicitly condones the ongoing oppression of marginalized groups and
perpetuates harmful ideologies that thrive in ignorance. This erasure
silences the voices of those who have suffered — denying them the space
to speak their truth and demand justice. It is not limited to historical
injustices alone; it extends to the present, silencing those who
courageously criticize contemporary violence, such as Israel’s
U.S.-backed genocidal war on Gaza, and those brave enough to hold power
accountable.
The act of forgetting is not passive; it actively supports systems of
oppression and censorship, muffling dissent and debate, both of which
are essential for a healthy democracy.
Equally dangerous is the form of historical amnesia that has come to
dominate our contemporary political and cultural landscape. This
organized forgetting feeds into a pedagogy of manufactured ignorance
that prioritizes emotion over reason and spectacle over truth. In this
process, history is fragmented and distorted, making it nearly
impossible to construct a coherent understanding of the past. As a
result, public institutions — particularly education — are undermined,
as critical thinking and social responsibility give way to shallow,
sensationalized narratives. Higher education, once a bastion for the
development of civic literacy and the moral imperative of understanding
our role as both individuals and social agents, is now attacked by
forces seeking to cleanse public memory of past social and political
progress. Figures like Trump embody this threat, working to erase the
memory of strides made in the name of equality, justice and human
decency. This organized assault on historical memory and intellectual
rigor strikes at the heart of democracy itself. When we allow the
erasure of history and the undermining of critical thought, we risk
suffocating the ideals that democracy promises: justice, equality and
accountability.
A democracy cannot thrive in the absence of informed and engaged
agents that are capable of questioning, challenging and reimagining a
future different from the present. Without such citizens, the very
notion of democracy becomes a hollow, disembodied ideal — an illusion of
freedom without the substance of truth or responsibility. Education, in
this context, is not merely a tool for transmitting knowledge; it is
the foundation and bedrock of political consciousness. To be educated,
to be a citizen, is not a neutral or passive state — it is a vital,
active political and moral engagement with the world, grounded in
critical thinking and democratic possibility. It is a recognition that
the act of learning and the act of being a citizen are inextricable from
each other. To strip education of its critical power is to rob
democracy of its transformative potential.
Confronting the violence of forgetting requires a shift in how we
engage with history. Intellectuals, educators and activists must take up
the responsibility of reintroducing the painful truths of the past into
public discourse. This is not about dwelling in the past for its own
sake, but about understanding its relevance to the present and future.
To break the cycles of violence, society must commit to remembering, not
just for the sake of memory, but as a critical tool for progress.
Moreover, engaging with history honestly requires recognizing that
the violence of forgetting is not a one-time event but a continual
process. Systems of power don’t simply forget; they actively work to
erase, rewrite and sanitize historical narratives. This means that the
fight to remember is ongoing and requires constant vigilance. It’s not
enough to simply uncover historical truths; society must work to ensure
that these truths are not forgotten again, buried under the weight of
media spectacles, ideological repression and political theater.
Ultimately, the violence of forgetting is an obstacle to genuine
social change. Without confronting the past — acknowledging the violence
and injustices that have shaped our world — we cannot hope to build a
more just and informed future. To move forward, any viable democratic
social order must reckon with its past, break free from the bonds of
ignorance, and commit to creating a future based on knowledge, justice
and accountability.
The task of confronting and dismantling the violent structures shaped
by the power of forgetting is immense, yet the urgency has never been
more pronounced. In an era where the scope and power of new pedagogical
apparatuses such as social media and AI dominate our cultural and
intellectual landscapes, the challenge becomes even more complex. While
they hold potential for education and connection, these technologies are
controlled by a reactionary ruling class of financial elite and
billionaires, and they are increasingly wielded to perpetuate
disinformation, fragment history and manipulate public discourse. The
authoritarian algorithms that drive these platforms increasingly
prioritize sensationalism over substance, lies over truth, the
appropriation of power over social responsibility, and in doing so,
reinforce modes of civic illiteracy, while attacking those fundamental
institutions which enable critical perspectives and a culture of
questioning.
The vital need for collective action and intellectual engagement to
reclaim and restore historical truth, critical thinking and social
responsibility is urgent. The present historical moment, both
unprecedented and alarming, resonates with Antonio Gramsci’s reflection
on an earlier era marked by the rise of fascism: “The old world is
dying, and the new world struggles to be born; now is the time of
monsters.”
In the face of a deepening crisis of history, memory and agency, any
meaningful resistance must be collective, disruptive and
unapologetically unsettling — challenging entrenched orthodoxies and
dismantling the forces that perpetuate ignorance and injustice. This
struggle needs to be both radical in its essence and uncompromising in
its demands for social change, recognizing education as inseparable from
politics and the tangible challenges people face in their everyday
lives. In this collective effort lies the power to dismantle the
barriers to truth, rebuild the foundations of critical thought, and
shape a future rooted in knowledge, justice and a profound commitment to
make power accountable. Central to this vision is the capacity to learn
from history, to nurture a historical consciousness that informs our
present and to reimagine agency as an essential force in the enduring
struggle for democracy. This call for a radical imagination cannot be
confined to classrooms but must emerge as a transformative force
embedded in a united, multiracial, working-class movement. Only then can
we confront the urgent crises of our time.
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In a time when higher education grapples with systemic challenges—rising tuition, debt burdens, underfunding, and institutional inertia—the Next System Teach-Ins emerge as a powerful catalyst for critical dialogue, community engagement, and transformative thinking.
A Legacy of Teach-Ins: From Vietnam to System Change
Teach-ins have long functioned as dynamic forums that transcend mere lecturing, incorporating participatory dialogue and strategic action. The concept originated in March 1965 at the University of Michigan in direct protest of the Vietnam War; faculty and students stayed up all night, creating an intellectual and activist space that sparked over 100 similar events in that year alone.
This model evolved through the decades—fueling the environmental, civil rights, and anti-apartheid movements of the 1970s and 1980s, followed by the Democracy Teach-Ins of the 1990s which challenged corporate influence in universities and energized anti-sweatshop activism. Later waves during Occupy Wall Street and Black Lives Matter sustained teach-ins as a tool for inclusive dialogue and resistance.
The Next System Teach-Ins: Vision, Scope, and Impact
Vision and Purpose
Launched in Spring 2016, the Next System Teach-Ins aimed to broaden public awareness of systemic alternatives to capitalism—ranging from worker cooperatives and community land trusts to decentralized energy systems and democratic public banking.
These teach-ins were designed not just as academic discussion forums but as launching pads for community-led action, connecting participants with toolkits, facilitation guides, ready-made curricula, and resources to design their own events.
Highlights of the Inaugural Wave
In early 2016, notable teach-ins took place across the U.S.—from Madison and New York City to Seattle and beyond. Participants explored pressing questions such as, “What comes after capitalism?” and “How can communities co-design alternatives that are just, sustainable, and democratic?”
These gatherings showcased a blend of plenaries, interactive workshops, radio segments, and “wall-to-wall” organizing strategies—mobilizing participants beyond attendee numbers into collective engagement.
Resources and Capacity Building
Organizers were provided with a wealth of support materials including modular curriculum, templates for publicity and RFPs, event agendas, speaker lists, and online infrastructure to manage RSVPs and share media.
The goal was dual: ignite a nationwide conversation on alternative systemic models, and encourage each teach-in host to aim for a specific local outcome—whether that be a campus campaign, curriculum integration, or forming ongoing community groups.
2025: Renewed Momentum
The Next System initiative has evolved. According to a May 2025 update from George Mason University’s Next System Studies, a new wave of Next System Teach-Ins is scheduled for November 1–16, 2025.
This iteration amplifies the original mission: confronting interconnected social, ecological, political, and economic crises by gathering diverse communities—on campuses, in union halls, or public spaces—to rethink, redesign, and rebuild toward a more equitable and sustainable future.
Why This Matters for Higher Education (HEI’s Perspective)
Teach-ins revitalize civic engagement on campus by reasserting higher education’s role as an engine of critical thought and imagination.
They integrate scholarship and practice, uniting theory with actionable strategies—from economic democracy to ecological regeneration—and enrich academic purpose with real-world relevance.
They also mobilize institutional infrastructure, offering student-led exploration of systemic change without requiring prohibitive resources.
By linking the global and the local, teach-ins equip universities to address both planetary crises and campus-specific challenges.
Most importantly, they trigger systemic dialogue, pushing past complacency and fostering a new generation of system-thinking leaders.
Looking Ahead: Institutional Opportunities
Host a Teach-In – Whether a focused film screening, interdisciplinary workshop, or full-scale weekend event, universities can leverage Next System resources to design context-sensitive, action-oriented programs.
Embed in Curriculum – The modular material—especially case studies on democratic economics, energy justice, or communal models—can integrate into courses in sociology, environmental studies, governance, and beyond.
Forge Community Partnerships – By extending beyond campus (to community centers, labor unions, public libraries), teach-ins expand access and deepen impact.
Contribute to a National Movement – University participation in the November 2025 wave positions institutions as active contributors to a growing ecosystem of systemic transformation.
A Bold Experiment
The Next System Teach-Ins represent a bold experiment in higher education’s engagement with systemic change. Combining rich traditions of activism with pragmatic tools for contemporary challenges, these initiatives offer HEI a blueprint for meaningful civic education, collaborative inquiry, and institutional transformation.
As the 2025 wave approaches, universities have a timely opportunity to be centers of both reflection and action in building the next system we all need.
Fraudsters are like cockroaches: persistent, hard to eliminate, and always scurrying just beneath the surface. And like cockroaches, when you see one, you can assume many more are hidden from view. In the sprawling, trillion-dollar ecosystem of American higher education—built on trust, hope, and credentials—fraud has been a constant companion. And under neoliberalism, it doesn’t just survive. It adapts, multiplies, and thrives.
NAAE’s mission is to provide a “holistic,” “anti-woke” alternative to traditional accreditors, evaluating colleges not on outcomes like graduation rates or job placement, but on how they shape the “human person.” It's vague, ideological, and intentionally opaque. Even Bieda admits the metrics are a secret—soon to be intellectual property.
Fraud in American higher education didn’t start with Trump University or Corinthian Colleges. It dates back to the 19th century, when diploma mills sold degrees like snake oil. In the early 20th century, accreditation systems emerged to clean up the mess—but fraud simply evolved. As the federal government opened the spigot of student aid after World War II, for-profit colleges and shady operators followed the money.
By the 2000s, the con had been professionalized. Publicly traded companies like Corinthian and ITT Tech learned how to game the system, using slick advertising, inflated job placement rates, and predatory recruiting to rake in billions in Title IV funds. The students—often low-income, Black, Latino, veterans, or single mothers—were left with broken promises and ballooning debt.
The watchdogs failed them. And some, like ACICS, weren’t just negligent—they were complicit.
In theory, accreditors are gatekeepers. In practice, they’ve too often been enablers. Accreditation bodies are funded by the very institutions they review, leading to deep structural conflicts of interest. ACICS became notorious for accrediting schools that federal and state regulators had flagged as predatory. After years of scrutiny, it was finally shut down in 2022.
Yet here we are, three years later, with ACICS’s former leader launching a new accrediting agency, this time cloaked in the language of "freedom of thought" and "anti-wokeness." Backed by the American Academy of Sciences and Letters (AASL), which insists it’s apolitical despite pushing overt culture war themes, NAAE is asking to be trusted with federal gatekeeping power.
It’s neoliberalism in action: dismantle public systems, defang oversight, and recycle failed leaders with fresh branding. The logic isn’t about protecting students—it’s about deregulating markets under the guise of reform.
The digital age has only made things worse. Online colleges with low academic standards, limited faculty oversight, and profit-driven motives are booming. AI will soon be used not just in instruction and grading, but in accreditation assessments themselves. NAAE promises to use AI to detect inconsistencies and enforce its vague standards. But when the standards themselves are ideological and untested, automation becomes a smokescreen.
Meanwhile, shady consultants, student loan relief scammers, and credentialing platforms are multiplying. It's not just about bad schools anymore—it’s an entire financialized ecosystem that treats students as data points and debtors.
Occasionally, the public sees the fraud for what it is. Corinthian and ITT collapsed. Whistleblowers have emerged. Borrower defense lawsuits have won relief. But like cockroaches, fraudsters scatter and reassemble elsewhere. They form new schools, new agencies, new lobbies. They rebrand and wait for the political winds to shift.
And with Trump pushing to dismantle the Department of Education and rewrite accreditation rules by executive order, the roaches are back in the kitchen.
At the Higher Education Inquirer, we believe fraud is not just a byproduct of capitalism—it’s a feature of an underregulated, investor-driven model of education. The solution is not to invent new accreditors with old ideas, but to demand radical transparency and public accountability.
That means open data on outcomes, default rates, and executive pay. It means public audits of accreditor decisions. It requires whistleblower protections for staff and students. And it must include criminal and financial penalties for institutional fraud.
Because fraudsters are like cockroaches. You may never eliminate them all—but you can turn on the lights, close the cracks, and make it a lot harder for them to scurry back into power.
Sources
Theo Scheer, “He Helped Lead a Disgraced College Accreditor. Under Trump, He Might Have Another Shot.” The Chronicle of Higher Education, July 21, 2025
U.S. Department of Education actions on ACICS (2016–2022)
Higher Education Inquirer reporting on for-profit colleges, accreditation failures, and Trump-era education policy
Interviews with whistleblowers and former students of collapsed institutions
The Council for National Policy (CNP), a secretive coalition of right-wing activists, donors, and religious leaders, has long operated behind closed doors to reshape American politics. Less visible—but no less consequential—is the CNP’s influence on U.S. higher education. Rather than building a parallel university system, the Council and its affiliates have sought to infiltrate, defund, and redirect existing institutions—while funding their own ideological outposts to train future political operatives and culture warriors.
From its founding in 1981, the CNP has cultivated a network of allies committed to a vision of America rooted in Christian nationalism, economic libertarianism, and anti-communism. Higher education, particularly public and research universities, has been a frequent target of its disdain. These institutions are framed as dens of secularism, moral relativism, and Marxist indoctrination. The strategy has been clear: weaken the credibility and funding of traditional universities while supporting alternative pipelines that reinforce conservative ideology.
Organizations like Turning Point USA, Young America’s Foundation, and the Intercollegiate Studies Institute have received support from CNP-connected donors and board members. These groups are active on campuses across the country, often attacking faculty and student activists who advocate for racial justice, labor rights, climate action, or LGBTQ+ inclusion. Turning Point’s “Professor Watchlist” is emblematic of this effort, identifying and shaming educators deemed “radical” or “anti-American.” Behind the student-centered branding are well-financed political interests looking to re-engineer campus discourse and manufacture consent for a reactionary worldview.
While public institutions struggle with budget cuts and political interference, private colleges like Hillsdale Collegeand Liberty University flourish with donor support from CNP-affiliated foundations. These schools market themselves as bastions of classical learning and Christian values, but they also function as training grounds for conservative media, law, and politics. Hillsdale in particular, with its rejection of federal funding and its alignment with Trump-era governance, has produced graduates who have moved seamlessly into roles in think tanks, policy shops, and Republican administrations.
The CNP’s influence extends beyond campuses into legislative agendas. Through connected organizations such as the Heritage Foundation and the American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC), the network has promoted laws that aim to ban the teaching of critical race theory, eliminate diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) offices, and impose state-mandated curriculum standards favoring patriotism over critical inquiry. Many of these efforts are packaged as promoting intellectual diversity, but in practice they represent a concerted attack on academic freedom.
Higher education is not simply collateral damage in the culture war. It is a primary battlefield. The push to defund public universities, restrict tenure, and surveil classroom speech is not accidental—it is part of a long-term project to discredit institutions that might challenge the political status quo. The goal is not just to influence what is taught, but to control who gets to teach and who gets to learn.
In the CNP’s vision, universities are not places for open debate or exploration, but potential threats to moral order and market orthodoxy. Knowledge becomes dangerous when it questions power. And so the Council works quietly, diligently, to ensure that the next generation of Americans is shaped not by democratic ideals but by theological certainty, corporate loyalty, and partisan allegiance.
While the names and tactics may evolve, the endgame remains the same: a higher education landscape where critical thinking is subordinated to dogma, and where the pursuit of truth yields to the demands of political conformity. Whether the broader public recognizes this campaign in time remains to be seen.
Sources
Anne Nelson, Shadow Network: Media, Money, and the Secret Hub of the Radical Right
Southern Poverty Law Center: “Council for National Policy” profile
Excerpts from leaked CNP membership directories and agendas (SourceWatch, The Guardian, Washington Post)
Isaac Arnsdorf, “Inside the CNP’s Shadowy Strategy Meetings” (Politico)
Hillsdale College Curriculum and Federal Funding Statements
Turning Point USA Professor Watchlist and donor records
Public records from ALEC, Heritage Foundation, and affiliated legislation
In a controversial move, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced on Thursday that the State Department had revoked the visas of more than 300 students, a number that is expected to rise. This action is part of the White House’s growing crackdown on foreign-born students, many of whom have been involved in political activism, particularly related to pro-Palestinian protests that have been sweeping college campuses.
Rubio made it clear that the government’s focus is on what he referred to as “these lunatics” – individuals who, according to him, are using their student visas not for education but for activism. His statements, made during a visit to Guyana, came amid reports of increasing detentions and deportations of students from countries like Iran, Turkey, and Palestine.
"It might be more than 300 at this point. We do it every day. Every time I find one of these lunatics, I take away their visas," Rubio said, underscoring the administration’s intent to target those engaging in political activism. Some of these arrests have taken place in dramatic fashion, with students detained by masked immigration agents and sent to detention centers, often far from their homes, with limited explanation.
Among the high-profile cases is that of Rumeysa Ozturk, a Turkish national studying in the U.S. on a student visa. Ozturk was arrested earlier this week in Somerville, Massachusetts, and is currently being held in a Louisiana detention facility. Her arrest follows her involvement in a Tufts University student newspaper article that called on the institution to divest from companies with ties to Israel and to acknowledge what she referred to as the Palestinian genocide. Importantly, Ozturk’s essay did not mention Hamas, yet her arrest has raised concerns over the broader political targeting of students engaged in activism.
Many of the students caught up in this crackdown are believed to have been involved in the pro-Palestinian protests that gained momentum on campuses last year. While the administration has not provided specific reasons for targeting these students, far-right pro-Israel groups have compiled lists of individuals they accuse of promoting anti-U.S. or anti-Israel sentiments. These lists have reportedly been shared with U.S. immigration authorities, further intensifying the political climate surrounding these detentions.
The move is part of a larger agenda by the Trump administration to clamp down on the activities of legal permanent residents and student visa holders. Immigration experts warn that such actions undermine the fundamental American right to free speech and assembly, particularly in academic settings.
Ben Wizner, director of the ACLU's Speech, Privacy, and Technology Project, described the current situation as "uniquely disturbing," stating that it sends a message to the brightest minds around the world who traditionally chose to study in the U.S. for its openness and intellectual freedom. The message, he argues, is now one of rejection.
The administration's actions are said to be guided by an immigration provision dating back to the Cold War, which allows the revocation of visas if a student's activities are seen as posing "potentially serious adverse foreign policy consequences." Some of the students targeted, including Ozturk, have had their visas revoked under this justification, despite no clear evidence of criminal activity.
Other notable individuals caught in the crosshairs include Alireza Doroudi, a doctoral student from Iran at the University of Alabama, and Badar Khan Suri, an Indian graduate student at Georgetown University. Both have been detained without clear charges, sparking concerns over whether their arrests are retaliatory measures for their political views. Suri, for instance, was allegedly detained for spreading Hamas propaganda, although he has denied such claims.
This wave of detentions and visa revocations also extends to other students like Yunseo Chung, a 21-year-old Columbia University student who participated in protests. Despite being a legal permanent resident, Chung now faces deportation. Similarly, Leqaa Kordia, a Palestinian student at Columbia, was detained by ICE after allegedly overstaying her student visa.
The increasing number of student arrests and deportations is drawing the attention of human rights advocates, who argue that these actions are a direct attack on free speech. Samah Sisay, one of the attorneys representing detained students, expressed concern that the government's actions are not only targeting specific political views but are also intended to intimidate future student activists.
This crackdown is also raising questions about the role of U.S. universities in protecting their students. In one high-profile case, Columbia University agreed to implement significant changes after President Trump threatened to withdraw $400 million in federal research funding over accusations that the university was not doing enough to address harassment of Jewish students.
As these events unfold, the future of student activism in the U.S. appears increasingly uncertain. If these trends continue, more students may face the loss of their visas, deportation, or even criminal charges related to their political beliefs and actions on campus. The implications for free speech, academic freedom, and international student exchange are profound, and advocates are calling for a reassessment of policies that allow such widespread and seemingly arbitrary actions against students.
In the face of this growing repression, one thing is clear: the United States is now sending a strong message to the world about what it will and will not tolerate in its universities. Whether that message will stifle the tradition of academic activism remains to be seen.
As Steven Levitsky
and Daniel Ziblatt note in How
Democracies Die, authoritarianism no longer announces itself with
marching boots or military coups. It now emerges through culture, through the
seductive rhythms of social media, viral spectacles, and the normalization of
cruelty. Today, culture is not just a backdrop to politics and historical
amnesia; it is politics embedded in the erasure of historical memory. It
teaches us how to see, what to remember, whom to fear, and what to forget. In
this age of resurgent authoritarianism, culture functions as a powerful
pedagogy of domination.
We are living through a dismal age, one where
anti-intellectualism is no longer masked, but paraded as a form of virtue. A
fascist monoculture thrives, dull and mechanized, overrun by wooden stuntmen,
empathy-hating billionaires, and artists like Kanye West who unashamedly praise
Hitler. Meanwhile, podcast ventriloquists spew algorithmic bile into the void. In
the ruins of the university, too many so-called leaders and their bureaucratic
accountants now lend legitimacy to what Herbert Marcuse once called “scholarshit,”
a travesty of thought, dressed in the empty rituals of managerial reason,
budget-cutting cruelty, and unapologetic brutality. “Scholarshit'” masquerades
as intellectual discourse while stripping it of genuine engagement with
critical inquiry. It thrives on jargon and pretension, prioritizing form over
substance, and favoring self-congratulatory cleverness over meaningful
argument. In its hollow rhetoric, the complexities of society are reduced to
buzzwords and superficial analyses, its practitioners more concerned with
appearing intellectually sophisticated than engaging in any real critique. This
approach to scholarship fosters intellectual laziness, encouraging an
atmosphere where complexity is simplified, nuance is erased, and true critical
thought is marginalized in favor of what passes for cleverness but lacks depth
or insight. Never has the need for critical education and a shift in mass
consciousness been more urgent. Never has it been more crucial to recognize
education as both a force for empowerment and a powerful mode of
colonization.
In an age when instrumentalism and techno-fascism
dominates the culture, reducing education to mere training and suffocating
pedagogy under the weight of indoctrination, it becomes more urgent than ever
to reclaim the university as a space for reflection, critique, and ethical
imagination. Instrumentalism erases social responsibility, dismisses matters of
justice, and detaches learning from the deeper relations of power. It exchanges
depth for compliance and, in the process, robs education of its emancipatory
promise.
We have witnessed this logic unfold in so-called liberal
movements like "teaching
to the test" and in the ongoing proliferation of Teaching and Learning
Centers, which often reduce education to a toolbox of technical skills. As Ariella Aïsha
Azoulay warns, these practices resemble the workings of "imperial
technologies", systems designed to manage learning without nurturing an
awareness of injustice, to flatten thought, and to detach education from the
struggle for democratic agency and pedagogical citizenship.
Consider Elon Musk, hailed by some as a visionary for
creating Tesla and fueling fantasies of colonizing Mars. Beneath this gleaming
myth, however, lies
a far more disturbing reality. Musk has made Nazi salutes, trafficked in
dangerous conspiracy theories, and, as Michelle
Goldberg noted in The New York Times, exhibits a chilling disdain
for empathy, paired with "breathless cruelty." This cruelty is not
abstract; it manifests in the real world, where the policies Musk champions
have contributed to the deaths of hundreds of thousands of children in Africa.
His power is not merely technological; it is ideological, shaping a culture
that confuses megalomania with genius and elevates indifference to suffering as
a mark of strength. This is more than a collapse of civic literacy, it is a toxic
poison, destroying any vestige of civic consciousness, solidarity, and social
responsibility.
Cruelty has become the currency of power, the measure by
which dominance is asserted and human worth discarded. Bill Gates, in a moment
of moral clarity, acknowledged the gravity of shuttering USAID, conceding that
he “bore the responsibility of risking a resurgence of diseases such as
measles, HIV, and polio.” But his warning grew even more damning when, in The
Financial Times, he described Elon Musk—once heralded as a symbol of
techno-utopian promise—as “the world’s richest man killing the world’s poorest
children.” Yet even Gates understates the larger architecture of violence at
work. Trump’s so-called “beautiful budget bill” is not merely a policy
document—it is a blueprint for social abandonment, a death sentence rendered in
the language of austerity. It slashes funding for child nutrition programs,
strips health care from millions, and eviscerates what remains of the social
state. In its wake rises a machinery of disposability—a punishing state that
targets the poor, the vulnerable, and people of color, turning the politics of
governance into a war zone where compassion is silenced and suffering
normalized. This is gangster capitalism on steroids--unleashed, utterly devoid
of any social responsibility and drunk on its own greed, power, corruption, and
fascist principles.
This silence speaks to a deeper void in higher education,
one that raises crucial questions about the
burden of conscience in education. It is no longer enough to champion STEM
disciplines while starving the liberal arts and humanities. It is not enough
for humanities students to dwell only in critique, disconnected from the
technological world around them. What we need is a fusion of literacies, a
pedagogy that teaches technical competence without sacrificing moral
imagination; a pedagogy that nurtures civic literacy, historical awareness, the
capacity to think beyond disciplines, and the courage to cross borders of
culture, identity, and thought.
The attacks facing higher
education today are more than a political or economic crisis, they also
speak to a cultural catastrophe, a struggle over civic consciousness, critical
literacy, and the promise of higher education as a
democratic public good. Higher education has become prime target because it
offers the promise to students of pedagogical citizenship—a pedagogy that
enables young people to attentive, critical, knowledgeable, and able to hold
power accountable. That is why higher education is viewed as dangerous to the
authoritarian neanderthals attacking higher education. At the core of the
crackdown on higher education is a project that successfully enables society to
forget how to think, to feel, and to remember, practices that provide a fertile
ground for creating fascist subjects. Under such conditions, grotesque acts become
normalized, children are starved in
Gaza, immigrant families are torn apart, and the horror of state terrorism
fades into the background noise of spectacle and distraction.
Language itself has been hijacked, bent to the will of a
colonizing legacy steeped in hatred, disposability, genocide, and a culture of
unapologetic cruelty. Neo-Nazis march without shame, white supremacists shape
the conservative cultural machinery, and racist policies are no longer
whispered but codified. Nazi salutes are back in fashion. Universities are
increasingly transformed into sites of indoctrination and surveillance, more
attuned to the logic of police precincts than places of critical learning. Students
who dare to protest the genocidal assault on Palestinians in Gaza are abducted,
vilified, and silenced. The most powerful white nationalist on the planet
parades corruption as a political virtue and deploys state terror as a primary
tool of governance. Solidarity is reconfigured into communities of hate, while
resistance to fascism is rebranded as terrorism. Beneath these crimes against
humanity lies a culture hollowed out by the absence of reason, moral clarity,
and the capacity to hold power accountable. The ghost of fascism has not merely
returned; it has taken up residence and been made ordinary.
The age of lofty visions has been cast aside, discarded like
ideological refuse. Yet without such visions, rooted in the hard labor and
hopeful promise of democracy and the critical function of education, we are
left adrift. In their place stand administrators who act as high-powered
accountants, students shaped by a culture of commodification and conformity,
and a precarious academic labor force paid less than Wall-Mart greeters and
clerks. Meanwhile, racism, white nationalism, and Christian fundamentalism
gather momentum, extinguishing the flickering lights that once illuminated the
path toward a radical democracy. When higher education no longer serves as a
vessel for ethical imagination and collective hope, it becomes complicit in its
own undoing, and with it, democracy itself teeters on the edge.
As educators, we must fight for a vision of higher education
as both sanctuary and catalyst, a place where democracy is not only studied but
enacted, where students are not trained to be efficient machines, but
cultivated into thinking, feeling, and acting human beings. We need an
education in which a culture of questioning is not punished but nurtured, where
talking back is a civic virtue, and where the pursuit of equity and justice is
central to the very purpose of teaching and learning. Such an education must be
grounded in the principles of civic literacy, historical consciousness, and a
systemic understanding of power—one that connects private troubles to public
issues and expands the possibilities for individual and collective agency.
This is the foundation upon which a radical democracy must
be built, and it is the defining pedagogical task of our time. If we fail in
this responsibility, higher education will surrender its role as a vital civic
sphere—one essential to producing the narratives, knowledge, and capacities
that sustain the promise of equality, justice, freedom, and compassion. In
abandoning that mission, it will not merely falter; it will aid in its own
unraveling. And with it, democracy will edge ever closer to collapse.
Donald Trump understands this. That is why he fears critical
education. That is why he wages war on it.
