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Tuesday, November 4, 2025

When Was Higher Education Truly a Public Good? (Glen McGhee)

Like staring at the Sun too long, that brief window in time, when higher ed was a public good, has left a permanent hole for nostalgia to leak in, becoming a massive black hole for trillions of dollars, and a blind-spot for misguided national policies and scholars alike. 

The notion that American higher education was ever a true public good is largely a myth. From the colonial colleges to the neoliberal university of today, higher education has functioned primarily as a mechanism of class reproduction and elite consolidation—with one brief, historically anomalous exception during the Cold War.




Colonial Roots: Elite Reproduction in the New World (1636–1787)

The first American colleges—Harvard, William and Mary, Yale, Princeton, and a handful of others—were founded not for the benefit of the public, but to serve narrow elite interests. Their stated missions were to train Protestant clergy and prepare the sons of wealthy white families for leadership. They operated under monopoly charters and drew funding from landowners, merchants, and slave traders.

Elihu Yale, namesake of Yale University, derived wealth from his commercial ties to the East India Company and the slave trade. Harvard’s early trustees owned enslaved people. These institutions functioned as “old boys’ clubs,” perpetuating privilege rather than promoting equality. Their educational mission was to cultivate “gentlemen fit to govern,” not citizens of a democracy.


Private Enterprise in the Republic (1790–1860)

After independence, the number of colleges exploded—from 19 in 1790 to more than 800 by 1880—but not because of any commitment to the public good. Colleges became tools for two private interests: religious denominations seeking influence, and land speculators eager to raise property values.

Ministers often doubled as land dealers, founding small, parochial colleges to anchor towns and boost prices. State governments played a minimal role, providing funding only in times of crisis. The Supreme Court’s 1819 Dartmouth College decision enshrined institutional autonomy, shielding private colleges from state interference. Even state universities were created mainly out of interstate competition—every state needed its own to “keep up with its neighbors.”


Gilded Age and Progressive Era: Credential Capitalism (1880–1940)

By the late 19th century, industrial capitalism had transformed higher education into a private good—something purchased for individual advancement. As family farms and small businesses disappeared, college credentials became the ticket to white-collar respectability.

Sociologist Burton Bledstein called this the “culture of professionalism.” Families invested in degrees to secure middle-class futures for their children. By the 1920s, most students attended college not to seek enlightenment, but “to get ready for a particular job.”

Elite universities such as Harvard, Yale, and Princeton solidified their dominance through exclusive networks. C. Wright Mills later observed that America’s “power elite” circulated through these same institutions and their associated clubs. Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of cultural capital helps explain this continuity: elite universities convert inherited privilege into certified merit, preserving hierarchy under the guise of meritocracy.


The Morrill Acts: Public Promise, Private Gains (1862–1890)

The Morrill Act of 1862 established land-grant colleges to promote “practical education” in agriculture and engineering. While often cited as a triumph of public-minded policy, the act’s legacy is ambivalent.

Land-grant universities were built on land expropriated from Indigenous peoples—often without compensation—and the 1890 Morrill Act entrenched segregation by mandating separate institutions for Black Americans in the Jim Crow South. Even as these colleges expanded access for white working-class men, they simultaneously reinforced racial and economic hierarchies.


Cold War Universities: The Brief Public Good (1940–1970)

For roughly thirty years, during World War II and the Cold War, American universities functioned as genuine public goods—but only because national survival seemed to depend on them.

The GI Bill opened college to millions of veterans, stabilizing the economy and expanding the middle class. Massive federal investments in research transformed universities into engines of technological and scientific innovation. The university, for a moment, was understood as a public instrument for national progress.

Yet this golden age was marred by exclusion. Black veterans were often denied GI Bill benefits, particularly in the South, where discriminatory admissions and housing policies blocked their participation. The “military-industrial-academic complex” that emerged from wartime funding created a new elite network centered on research universities like MIT, Stanford, and Berkeley.


Neoliberal Regression: Education as a Private Commodity (1980–Present)

After 1970, the system reverted to its long-standing norm: higher education as a private good. The Cold War’s end, the tax revolt, and the rise of neoliberal ideology dismantled the postwar consensus.

Ronald Reagan led the charge—first as California governor, cutting higher education funding by 20%, then as president, slashing federal support. He argued that tuition should replace public subsidies, casting education as an individual investment rather than a social right.

Since 1980, state funding per student has fallen sharply while tuition at public universities has tripled. Students are now treated as “customers,” and universities as corporations—complete with branding departments, executive pay packages, and relentless tuition hikes.


The Circuit of Elite Network Capital

Today, the benefits of higher education flow through a closed circuit of power that links elite universities, corporations, government agencies, and wealthy families.

  1. Elite Universities consolidate wealth and prestige through research funding, patents, and endowments.

  2. Corporations recruit talent and license discoveries, feeding the same institutions that produce their executives.

  3. Government and Military Agencies are staffed by alumni of elite universities, reinforcing a revolving door of privilege.

  4. Elite Professions—law, medicine, finance, consulting—use degrees as gatekeeping mechanisms, driving credential inflation.

  5. Wealthy Families invest in elite education as a means of preserving status across generations.

What the public receives are only residual benefits—technologies and medical innovations that remain inaccessible without money or insurance.


Elite Network Capital, Not Public Good

The idea of higher education as a public good has always been more myth than reality. For most of American history, colleges and universities have functioned as institutions of elite reproduction, not engines of democratic uplift.

Only during the extraordinary conditions of the mid-20th century—when global war and ideological conflict made mass education a national imperative—did higher education briefly align with the public interest.

Today’s universities continue to speak the language of “public good,” but their actions reveal a different truth. They serve as factories of credentialism and as nodes in an elite network that translates privilege into prestige. What masquerades as a public good is, in practice, elite network capital—a system designed not to democratize opportunity, but to manage and legitimize inequality.


Sources:
Labaree (2017), Bledstein (1976), Bourdieu (1984, 1986), Mills (1956), Geiger (2015), Thelin (2019), and McGhee (2025).

Monday, July 14, 2025

Elite Higher Education and the Epstein Files

The Jeffrey Epstein scandal is not just about the crimes of one man—it is a window into the pathology of elite power in America. At the center of Epstein’s network were not only celebrities and financiers, but the leaders of elite universities, powerful legal minds trained at Ivy League institutions, former presidents, cabinet officials, and judges. These individuals and institutions helped legitimize Epstein, enabled his abuse, and later participated in the cover-up—directly or through willful silence.

Epstein built his power not just through money, but through proximity to institutions that conferred prestige and trust. Harvard University accepted more than $9 million in donations from Epstein, even after his 2008 conviction for soliciting sex from a minor. Epstein was granted office space, invited to events, and listed in directories like a visiting fellow. Harvard only conducted an internal investigation years later, long after the damage had been done. MIT, through its Media Lab, secretly accepted Epstein’s donations while attempting to conceal his involvement. Director Joi Ito was forced to resign, but no criminal or civil penalties were imposed on university leadership. Stanford, the Santa Fe Institute, and other elite academic hubs welcomed Epstein into their conferences, roundtables, and salons. Some researchers claimed ignorance of his criminal record. Others looked away in exchange for funding.

The most visible defenders and enablers of Epstein included powerful figures in law and politics with close ties to elite academia. Alan Dershowitz, Harvard Law professor emeritus and one of Epstein’s longtime attorneys, was not only his legal defender but also named in sworn affidavits as someone to whom Epstein trafficked underage girls. Dershowitz has denied all allegations and launched a years-long legal campaign to discredit accusers and journalists. Yet Harvard has remained largely silent about his conduct, choosing not to distance itself meaningfully from a man who helped give Epstein the shield of institutional legitimacy.

Former President Bill Clinton, a Yale Law graduate and darling of global academic initiatives, flew on Epstein’s private jet over two dozen times. He has denied visiting Epstein’s private island or engaging in any misconduct, but flight logs, meeting records, and photos raise questions. Epstein donated to the Clinton Foundation, which partnered with numerous universities and research institutions. Clinton’s elite credentials helped whitewash Epstein’s image, just as Epstein used those connections to advance his own agenda.

The most disturbing developments have occurred more recently, with mounting evidence of a high-level cover-up that has delayed justice and protected powerful men. Government officials tied to elite education—Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Stanford—have played key roles in suppressing evidence. Former U.S. Attorney Alex Acosta, a Harvard Law graduate, brokered Epstein’s original 2008 plea deal in Florida. Acosta later claimed he was told Epstein “belonged to intelligence.” When Epstein was arrested again in 2019 and died in federal custody under suspicious circumstances, then–Attorney General William Barr oversaw the investigation. Barr, a Columbia graduate whose father once hired Epstein at the elite Dalton School despite Epstein lacking a degree, later insisted that the death was a suicide. No one in government has ever been held accountable for the failures that followed.

Federal judges reviewing Epstein-related cases and redacting the names of associates have largely come from the Ivy League pipeline. These judges, some of whom clerked for Supreme Court justices, have delayed the release of court documents, citing privacy concerns—often for public figures with deep institutional affiliations. The result has been a legal process that drags on for years while survivors wait for truth and the public is left in the dark.

This convergence of elite academia, elite law, and elite governance shows that the Epstein case is not an outlier but a reflection of a closed system. Epstein embedded himself in elite universities not to learn or teach, but to launder his image and buy access. The universities, desperate for funding and star power, let him. Government officials, trained by and connected to the same institutions, protected him. And when the truth threatened to surface, they slowed the release of files, discredited whistleblowers, and hid behind legal formalities.

What makes this scandal different from others in higher education is not just the scale of abuse, but the depth of institutional complicity. Universities cannot hide behind the claim of ignorance. Government officials cannot pretend to be impartial arbiters of justice when they are protecting their own.

If elite higher education wants to regain any moral authority, it must reckon honestly with the Epstein files—not just the names of those involved, but the systems that allowed it all to happen. That means disclosing donor histories, creating independent oversight mechanisms, and ending the culture of secrecy that shields the powerful. Otherwise, these institutions are not bastions of knowledge—they are sanctuaries for predators in suits and ties.

The real legacy of Jeffrey Epstein is not confined to courtrooms or island estates. It is inscribed in the halls of elite universities, in sealed court records, and in the offices of high-ranking officials who quietly ensured that justice was delayed and distorted. The question is not how this happened—but how many more like him remain hidden, protected by the same structures of prestige and power that allowed Epstein to thrive.


Sources
Harvard University Office of the General Counsel, Report Concerning Jeffrey Epstein’s Donations, May 2020
Julie K. Brown, Perversion of Justice: The Jeffrey Epstein Story, Harper, 2021
The New Yorker, “How an Elite University Research Lab Hid Its Relationship with Jeffrey Epstein,” Ronan Farrow, September 2019
The New York Times, “Jeffrey Epstein Visited Clinton White House Multiple Times,” January 2022
Giuffre v. Maxwell court filings, U.S. District Court, SDNY, 2024
Department of Justice, Inspector General reports, 2020–2024
Public statements and court documents from Alan Dershowitz, Alex Acosta, William Barr
MIT Media Lab internal emails obtained by The New Yorker
Law.com reporting on Kirkland & Ellis’ involvement with Epstein’s legal defense
Dalton School employment records and biographical history of William Barr and Donald Barr

Sunday, November 16, 2025

Epstein, Dershowitz, Summers, and the Long Arc of Elite Impunity

For many observers, Jeffrey Epstein, Alan Dershowitz, and Larry Summers appear as separate figures orbiting the world of elite academia, finance, and politics. But together—and through the long lens of history—they represent something far more revealing: the modern expression of a centuries-old system in which elite institutions protect powerful men while sacrificing the vulnerable.

The Epstein-Dershowitz-Summers triangle is not a scandal of individuals gone astray. It is the predictable result of structures that make such abuses almost inevitable.

The Modern Version of an Old System

Jeffrey Epstein built his influence not through scholarship or scientific discovery—he had no advanced degrees—but by inserting himself into the financial bloodstream of the Ivy League. Harvard and MIT accepted his money, his introductions, and his promises of access to ultra-wealthy networks. Epstein did not need credibility; he purchased it.

Larry Summers, as president of Harvard from 2001 to 2006, continued to engage with Epstein after the financier’s first arrest and plea deal. Summers’ administration accepted substantial Epstein donations, including funds channeled into the Program for Evolutionary Dynamics. Summers and his wife dined at Epstein’s Manhattan home. After leaving Harvard, Summers stayed in touch with Epstein even as the financier’s abuses became increasingly public. Summers used the same revolving door that has long connected elite universities, Wall Street, and presidential administrations—moving freely and comfortably across all three.

Alan Dershowitz, former Harvard Law Professor and Epstein’s close associate and legal strategist, exemplifies another pillar of this system: elite legal protection. Dershowitz defended Epstein vigorously, attacked survivors publicly, and remains embroiled in litigation connected to the case. Whether one believes Dershowitz’s claims of innocence is secondary to the structural fact: elite institutions reliably shield their own.

Together, Epstein offered money and connections; Summers offered institutional prestige and political access; Dershowitz offered legal insulation. Harvard, meanwhile, offered a platform through which all three profited.

Knowledge as a Shield—Not a Light

For centuries, elite universities have served as both engines of knowledge and fortresses of power. They are not neutral institutions.

They defended slavery and eugenics, supplying “scientific” justification for racial hierarchies.
They exploited labor—from enslaved workers who built campuses to adjuncts living in poverty today.
They marginalized survivors of sexual violence while protecting benefactors and faculty.
They accepted fortunes derived from war profiteering, colonial extraction, hedge-fund predation, and private-equity devastation.

Epstein did not invent the model of the toxic patron. He merely perfected it in the neoliberal era.

A Four-Step Pattern of Elite Impunity

The scandal surrounding Epstein, Dershowitz, and Summers follows a trajectory that dates back centuries:

  1. Wealth accumulation through exploitation
    From slave plantations to private equity, concentrated wealth is generated through systems that harm the many to benefit the few.

  2. The purchase of academic legitimacy
    Endowed chairs, laboratories, fellowships, and advisory roles allow dubious benefactors to launder reputations through universities.

  3. Legal and cultural shielding
    Elite lawyers, confidential settlements, non-disclosure agreements, and institutional silence create protective armor.

  4. Silencing of survivors and critics
    Reputational attacks, threats of litigation, and internal pressure discourage transparency and accountability.

Epstein operated within this system. Dershowitz defended it. Summers benefited from it. Harvard reinforced it.

Larry Summers: An Anatomy of Power

Summers’ career illuminates the deeper structure behind the scandal. His trajectory—Harvard president, U.S. Treasury Secretary, World Bank chief economist, adviser to hedge funds, consultant to Big Tech—mirrors the seamless circulation of elite power between universities, finance, and government.

During his presidency, Harvard publicly embraced Epstein’s donations. After Epstein’s first sex-offense conviction, Summers continued to meet with him socially and professionally. Summers leveraged networks that Epstein also sought to cultivate. And even after the Epstein scandal fully broke open, Summers faced no meaningful institutional repercussions.

The message was clear: individual wrongdoing matters less than maintaining elite continuity.


Higher Education’s Structural Complicity

Elite universities were not “duped.” They were beneficiaries.

Harvard returned only a fraction of Epstein’s donations, and only after the press exposed the relationship. MIT hid Epstein’s gifts behind false donor names. Faculty traveled to his island and penthouse without demanding transparency.

Meanwhile:

Adjuncts qualify for food assistance
Students carry life-crippling debt
Administrators earn CEO-level pay
Donors dictate priorities behind closed doors

This is not hypocrisy—it is hierarchy. A system built to serve wealth does exactly that.

A Timeline Much Longer Than Epstein

To understand the present, we must zoom out:

Oxford and Cambridge accepted slave-trade wealth as institutional lifeblood.
Gilded Age robber barons endowed libraries while crushing labor movements.
Cold War intelligence agencies quietly funded research centers.
Today’s oligarchs, tech billionaires, and private-equity titans buy influence through endowments and think tanks.

The tools change. The pattern does not.

Universities help legitimate the powerful—even when those powerful figures harm the public.

Why This Still Matters

The Epstein scandal is not resolved. Court documents continue to emerge. Survivors continue to speak. Elite institutions continue to stall and deflect. Harvard still resists meaningful transparency, even as its endowment approaches national GDP levels.

The danger is not simply that another Epstein will emerge. It is that elite universities will continue to provide the conditions that make another Epstein inevitable.

What Breaking the Pattern Requires

Ending this system demands more than symbolic gestures or public-relations apologies. Real reform requires:

Radical donor transparency—with all gifts, advisory roles, and meetings disclosed
Worker and student representation on governing boards
Strong whistleblower protections and the abolition of secret NDAs
Robust public funding to reduce reliance on elite philanthropy
Independent journalism committed to exposing institutional power

Ida B. Wells, Jessica Mitford, Upton Sinclair, and other muckrakers understood what universities still deny: scandals are symptoms. The disease is structural.

Epstein was not an anomaly.
Dershowitz is not an anomaly.
Summers is not an anomaly.

They are products of a system in which universities serve power first—and truth, only if convenient.

If higher education wants to reclaim public trust, it must finally decide which side of history it is on.

Sunday, November 24, 2024

The Admissions Game

History and Structure of Selective Admissions

Folks are not privy to the inner workings of admissions, especially at elite and brand name schools.  The College Admissions Scandal (aka Varsity Blues) gave us a small window into this structure, but that story will soon be forgotten. And it only touched the surface of how the system works for some and not for others.   

What little the public has access about selective admissions can be found in a few historical and sociological sources, like Craig Steven Wilder's Ebony and Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America's Universities and William Domhoff's Who Rules America?: The Corporate Rich, White Nationalist Republicans, and Inclusionary Democrats in the 2020s. Books that are not best sellers or readily available in public libraries. 

The 400 year history of American higher education begins with selective admissions. From the 1600s to the 1860s, access was largely restricted to white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant male landowners, reflecting the societal norms of the time. A few Native American elites were forced into universities as tools of assimilation, colonization, and cultural erasure.

There were some notable exceptions. Georgetown, a Catholic college, was founded in 1789, and like other schools relied on enslaved people for labor.  For others, there were for-profit trade schools for bookkeeping, engineering and technical drawing. In 1836, the first women's college, Wesleyan College, was founded. 

Higher Education Segregation and the Morrill (Land-Grant Colleges) Act

In the 19th century, as the United States industrialized and urbanized, the concept of meritocracy began to take hold. However, this meritocracy was often defined narrowly, excluding women, people of color, religious minorities, and those from lower socioeconomic classes.
 
Elite colleges continued to favor students from wealthy families, often requiring them to pass entrance exams that tested knowledge of Latin and Greek, subjects typically studied at private preparatory schools. 
 
Separate colleges for African Americans were established. 
 
After the Civil War, opportunities opened up for other white males with the emergence of federal land grants that established state flagship universities. The state universities, were in fact, established on land stolen from indigenous nations. 
 
With a demand for more folks with degrees, degree mills also rose. 

The GI Bill and Civil Rights

The 20th century saw some progress in expanding access to higher education. The GI Bill, for example, provided educational benefits to male veterans, including many from marginalized backgrounds. However, systemic racism and sexism continued to limit opportunities for Black students and women. 
 
Diploma mills again sprang up, in response to this large influx of government funds.
 
It wasn't until the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s that significant strides were made in desegregating higher education. And the first tribal college, Diné College, was established in 1968 by the Navajo Nation. 

Affirmative Action and DEI

Today, while elite colleges have become more diverse, they remain elite in nature, especially in terms of social class (wealth, power, prestige). The private school pipeline, legacy admissions, active recruiting, and the financial motivations of these institutions continue to perpetuate inequalities. Students from under-resourced schools and communities may still face significant barriers to admission, even with impressive academic records.

The admissions process at elite colleges and universities has become increasingly scrutinized in recent years. Critics argue that the system favors a select group of students, often from privileged backgrounds, while excluding others with equally impressive credentials. 

Feeder Schools: The Private School Pipeline

Private schools provide students with a distinct advantage in the college admissions process. These schools offer smaller class sizes, specialized resources, and extracurricular opportunities that can enhance a student's application. Private schools also have established relationships with admissions officers at top colleges, which can give their students an edge. This pipeline effectively funnels a disproportionate number of students from wealthy families into elite institutions.

Legacy Admissions

Legacy admissions, which give preference to applicants whose parents or grandparents attended the same college, further perpetuate the advantages of wealth and privilege. Studies have shown that legacy students are significantly more likely to be admitted to top schools, even when compared to non-legacy applicants with higher test scores and GPAs. This practice raises questions about meritocracy and equal opportunity in higher education.

Active Recruiting

Elite colleges engage in extensive recruiting efforts to attract top students. They often target high-achieving students at selective high schools and even travel internationally to scout talent. While this practice may seem beneficial, it can also reinforce existing inequalities. Students from under-resourced schools and communities may not have the same access to information and opportunities, making it difficult for them to compete in the admissions process.

International Students

Elite universities often attract students from developing countries who pay substantial tuition fees, contributing significantly to the universities' financial stability. Critics argue that this practice exploits the global education gap, as students from wealthier countries often have better access to quality higher education within their own nations. Additionally, the "brain drain" phenomenon, where talented individuals from developing countries migrate to developed nations for education and employment, can further exacerbate economic disparities. While universities may tout the benefits of cultural exchange and global citizenship, the economic incentives and power dynamics involved in international student recruitment raise concerns about the ethical implications of this practice.

The Profit Motive

It is important to acknowledge that elite colleges are businesses. They generate significant revenue from tuition, endowments, and other sources. Admissions practices, such as legacy preferences and active recruiting, can be seen as strategies to attract wealthy students who can contribute to the institution's financial bottom line. This raises concerns about whether the primary goal of these colleges is to provide a quality education or to maximize profits.  
 
Many elite schools, including Harvard and MIT, have also used online program managers like 2U to peddle certificates of questionable value. 

The Admissions Lottery 

While a "lottery mindset" isn't directly beneficial to elite universities in terms of increasing applications, it can indirectly impact the perception of the admissions process. As more and more qualified students apply to these institutions, the acceptance rate decreases, making it feel like a lottery. This perception can lead to several outcomes:
 
Increased Application Volume: Students may feel compelled to apply to a wider range of schools, including elite universities, increasing the overall application pool.
 
Early Decision Strategies: Students and parents may be more inclined to apply early decision to increase their chances, as it often has a higher acceptance rate.

Focus on Holistic Review: As the application pool grows, admissions officers may place greater emphasis on holistic review, considering factors beyond grades and test scores. This can benefit students with unique talents, experiences, or backgrounds.

However, it's important to note that a "lottery mindset" can also be detrimental. It can lead to increased stress and anxiety among applicants, as well as a sense of disillusionment with the college admissions process. Ultimately, while a lottery mindset may have some unintended consequences, it's essential to remember that college admissions is not solely a game of chance. Hard work, dedication, and a well-rounded application can significantly improve a student's chances of acceptance.

Thursday, December 18, 2025

Rahm Emanuel at ASU+GSV Summit: Reform Rhetoric and Elite Power Dynamics

The 2026 ASU+GSV Summit’s announcement of Rahm Emanuel as a featured speaker paints a portrait of a seasoned education leader: expanding Pre‑K, lengthening school days, and championing accountability in public schooling. It positions him as a “national voice for bold, outcomes‑driven education reform” with the promise that “ALL students can succeed.” But a closer look at Emanuel’s record and the broader political and economic networks he’s part of reveals a gap between reform rhetoric and the structural realities facing American education.

The summit blurb highlights aspects of Emanuel’s mayoral record—like longer school days and universal Pre‑K—as unequivocal successes. Yet critics note that these reforms came alongside aggressive school closures and policies that often prioritized test scores over community stability and equitable resources for historically underserved neighborhoods. The celebration of “outcomes‑driven” approaches overlooks the real impacts of top‑down accountability regimes on students and educators.

A deeper problem in education policy today isn’t just about individual initiatives, it’s about who shapes the agenda and why. Investigations into elite influence, such as The Pritzker Family Paradox, show how wealthy political families and private capital can steer education systems in ways that benefit investors as much as—if not more than—students. Members of that same elite class move fluidly between public office, philanthropic boards, and private education ventures, blurring lines between public good and private gain.

The concerns about elite influence extend beyond k‑12 reform into higher education. The University of Phoenix—the nation’s largest for-profit university—has faced long-running federal scrutiny that has only intensified questions about the role of private equity and political connections in education. In 2018, the Federal Trade Commission was reported to be investigating the University of Phoenix’s practices more than two years after the institution was taken private (in part) by the Vistria Group, a firm led by a longtime Obama associate. The deal pushed the university out of public markets, reducing transparency even as the FTC pursued inquiries into marketing, recruitment, financial aid, billing practices, and more. This story is more than an isolated headline. It links education policy, political networks, and private equity in ways that should make anyone skeptical of sanitized reform narratives. The University of Phoenix’s federal investigation—set against its massive enrollment and heavy reliance on federal student aid—raises serious questions about how for-profit models and political influence intersect to shape student outcomes and taxpayer exposure to risk.

With Emanuel positioned at the ASU+GSV Summit as a visionary reformer, it’s worth asking what kind of reform is being championed—and for whom. Emanuel’s career path mirrors that of many elite education influencers: from municipal leadership to Washington corridors to national stages, often amplifying narratives that celebrate managerial efficiency and data-driven accountability while underemphasizing power imbalances, market incentives, and community impacts. Putting Emanuel on a summit stage alongside investors and administrators reinforces a reform ecosystem driven by elite networks, where visibility and messaging often outpace substantive change in classrooms or communities that have long been underserved.

Attendees of the summit and observers of national education policy deserve more than polished bios and upbeat messaging. They deserve transparent discussions about who benefits from current education reforms and who loses, critical engagement with the role of private capital and political influence in shaping everything from early education to college financing, and honest reflection on how policy levers affect students, especially those from historically marginalized communities. Platforms like ASU+GSV should widen the lens beyond elite testimonials and market-friendly case studies to include voices that challenge entrenched interests and demand accountability not just in language, but in structural outcomes. Real transformation will not come from repackaging reform as spectacle; it will come from confronting the systems that continue to produce inequity in American education.


Sources

  1. The Pritzker Family Paradox: Elite Power, Philanthropy, and Education Policy. Higher Education Inquirer. July 2025. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/the-pritzker-family-paradox-elite-power.html

  2. FTC Investigates University of Phoenix After Sale to Obama-Linked Firm. Daily Caller. July 22, 2018. https://dailycaller.com/2018/07/22/obama-university-phoenix-probe/

  3. ASU+GSV Summit 2026: Rahm Emanuel Speaker Announcement. https://www.asugsvsummit.com

Saturday, June 28, 2025

Harvard, Russia, and the Quiet Complicity of American Higher Education

In the fog of elite diplomacy and global finance, some of the United States' most prestigious universities—chief among them, Harvard—have long had entangled and often opaque relationships with authoritarian regimes. While recent headlines focus on China’s influence in higher education, far less attention has been paid to the role elite U.S. institutions have played in legitimizing, enabling, and profiting from post-Soviet Russia’s slide into oligarchy and repression.

The Harvard-Russia Nexus

Harvard University, through its now-infamous Harvard Institute for International Development (HIID), was a key player in Russia's economic transition following the collapse of the Soviet Union. During the 1990s, HIID, backed by millions of dollars in U.S. government aid through the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), provided advice on privatization and market reforms in Russia. This effort, touted as a cornerstone of democracy promotion, instead helped consolidate power among a small class of oligarchs, fueling the economic inequality and corruption that ultimately laid the foundation for Vladimir Putin's authoritarian rule.

Harvard’s involvement reached scandalous proportions. In 2001, the U.S. Department of Justice sued Harvard, economist Andrei Shleifer (a professor in Harvard's Economics Department), and others for self-dealing and conflict of interest. Shleifer and his associates were found to have used their insider access to enrich themselves and their families through Russian investments, all while supposedly advising the Russian government on behalf of the American taxpayer. Harvard eventually paid $26.5 million to settle the case.

Though the scandal damaged HIID's reputation and led to its closure, the broader complicity of the academic and financial elite in exploiting Russia’s vulnerability during the 1990s has received little sustained scrutiny.

Lawrence Summers and the Russian Connection

At the center of this story sits Lawrence Summers—a former Harvard president, U.S. Treasury Secretary, and one of the most powerful figures in the transatlantic economic order. Summers was both mentor and close associate of Andrei Shleifer. During the critical years of Russian privatization, Summers served as Undersecretary and later Secretary of the Treasury under President Clinton, while Shleifer operated HIID’s Russia project.

Despite the blatant conflict of interest, Summers never publicly disavowed Shleifer's actions. After returning to Harvard, he brought Shleifer back into the university’s good graces, protecting his tenured position and helping him avoid serious institutional consequences. This protection underscored the tight-knit nature of elite networks where accountability is rare and reputations are guarded like intellectual property.

Summers himself has invested in Russia through various vehicles over the years, and has held lucrative advisory roles with financial firms deeply enmeshed in post-Soviet economies. He also played an advisory role for Russian tech giant Yandex and has appeared at events sponsored by firms with deep Russian connections. While Summers has since criticized the Putin regime, his earlier role in enabling the very conditions that empowered it is seldom discussed in polite academic company.

A Broader Pattern of Complicity

Harvard is not alone. Institutions like Stanford, Yale, Georgetown, and the University of Chicago have produced scholars, consultants, and think tanks that helped construct the framework of neoliberal transition in Russia and Eastern Europe. These universities not only trained many of the Russian technocrats who later served in Putin’s government, but also quietly benefited from international partnerships, fellowships, and endowments tied to post-Soviet wealth.

Endowments at elite institutions remain shrouded in secrecy, and it is not always possible to trace the sources of foreign gifts or investments. But it’s clear that Russian oligarchs—many of whom owe their fortunes to the very privatization schemes U.S. economists championed—have made donations to elite Western universities or served on their advisory boards. Some sponsored academic centers and fellowships designed to burnish their reputations or reframe narratives about Russia’s transformation.

The Death of a Dissident

The failure of Western academic institutions to reckon with their role in Russia’s descent into authoritarianism became all the more glaring with the death of Alexei Navalny in February 2024. Navalny, a fierce critic of corruption and Putin’s regime, was imprisoned and ultimately killed for challenging the very system that U.S. advisers like those from Harvard helped engineer. While universities issued public statements condemning his death, few acknowledged the deeper complicity of their faculty, programs, and funders in building the oligarchic structures Navalny spent his life trying to dismantle.

Navalny repeatedly exposed how Russian wealth was funneled into offshore accounts and Western real estate, often aided by a global network of enablers—including lawyers, bankers, and academics in the West. His death is not just a symbol of Putin’s brutality—it is also a damning indictment of the institutions, both in Russia and abroad, that failed to stop it and, in many cases, profited along the way.

Where is the Accountability?

Despite the Shleifer scandal and Russia’s authoritarian consolidation, there has been no independent reckoning from Harvard or its peer institutions about their role in the failures of the 1990s or the long-term consequences of their economic evangelism. The neoliberal ideology that fueled these efforts—steeped in faith in free markets, minimal regulation, and elite technocracy—remains dominant in elite policy circles, even as it faces growing critique from both left and right.

Meanwhile, institutions like Harvard continue to influence global policy through their academic prestige, think tanks, and alumni networks. They remain powerful arbiters of truth—shaping how the public understands foreign policy, democracy, and capitalism—while rarely acknowledging their own entanglement in the darker chapters of globalization.

Elite Academia and Oligarchy

The story of Harvard and Russia is not just a tale of one institution’s failure; it is emblematic of the broader failure of elite American academia to confront its own role in the spread of oligarchy, inequality, and authoritarianism under the banner of liberal democracy. In an age when higher education is under increased scrutiny for its political and financial entanglements, the need for critical journalism and public accountability has never been greater.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to investigate these complex relationships—and demand transparency from the institutions that claim to serve the public good, while operating behind a veil of privilege and power. Navalny’s sacrifice deserves more than hollow statements. It requires a full accounting of how the system he died fighting was built—with help from the most powerful university in the world.

Thursday, March 13, 2025

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.

Tuesday, May 14, 2024

College Meltdown 3.0 Could Start Earlier (And End Worse) Than Planned


Chronicling the College Meltdown 

Since 2016, the Higher Education Inquirer has documented the College Meltdown as a series of demographic and business trends leading to lower enrollments and making higher education of decreasing value to working-class and middle-class folks. This despite the commonly-held belief that college is the only way to improve social mobility.  

For more than a dozen years, the College Meltdown has been most visible at for-profit colleges and community colleges, but other non-elite schools and for-profit edtech businesses have also been affected. Some regions, states, and counties have been harder hit than others. Non-elite state universities are becoming increasingly vulnerable

Elite schools, on the other hand, do not need students for revenues, at least in the short run.  They depend more on endowments, donations, real estate, government grants, corporate grants, and other sources of income. Elite schools also have more than enough demand for their product even after receiving bad press.    

The perceived value and highly variable real value of higher education has made college less attractive to many working-class consumers and to an increasing number of middle-class consumers--who see it as a risky proposition. Degrees in the humanities and social sciences are becoming a tough sell. Even some STEM degrees may not be valuable for too long.  Public opinion about higher education and the value of higher education has been waning and many degrees, especially graduate degrees, have a negative return on investment. 

Tuition and room and board costs have skyrocketed. Online learning has become more prominent, despite persistent questions about its educational value. 

While college degrees have worked for millions of graduates, student loans have mired millions of other former students, and their families, in long-term debt, doing work in fields they aren't happy with

Elite degrees for people in the upper class still make sense though, as status symbols and social sorters. And there are some professions that require degrees for inclusion. But those degrees and the lucrative jobs accompanying them disproportionately go to foreigners and immigrants, and their children--a demographic wave that may draw the ire of folks who have lived in the US for generations and who may have not enjoyed the same opportunities.  

Starting Sooner and Ending Worse

The latest phase of the College Meltdown was supposed to result from a declining number of high school graduates in 2026, something Nathan Grawe projected from lower birth rates following the 2008-2009 recession.

But problems with the federal government's financial aid system may mean that a significant decline in enrollment at non-elite schools starts this fall.  

The College Meltdown may become even worse than planned, in terms of lower enrollment and declining revenues to non-elite schools. Enrollment numbers most assuredly will be worse than Department of Education projections of slow growth until 2030

In 2023, we wrote about something few others reported on: that community colleges and state universities would feel more financial pressure from by the flip-side of the Baby Boom: the enormous costs of taking care of the elderly which could drain public coffers that subsidize higher education. This was a phenomenon that should also have been anticipated by higher education policy makers, but is still rarely discussed. Suzanne Mettler graphed this out in Degrees of Inequality a decade ago--and the Government Accountability Office noted the huge projected costs in 2002

Related links: 

Starting my new book project: Peak Higher Education (Bryan Alexander)

Long-Term Care:Aging Baby Boom Generation Will Increase Demand and Burden on Federal and State Budgets (Government Accountability Office, 2002)

Forecasting the College Meltdown (2016)

Charting the College Meltdown (2017)

US Department of Education Fails to Recognize College Meltdown (2017)

Community Colleges at the Heart of the College Meltdown (2017)

College Enrollment Continues Decline in Several States (2018) 

The College Dream is Over (Gary Roth, 2020)

The Growth of RoboColleges and Robostudents (2021)

Even Elite Schools Have Subprime Majors (2021)

College Meltdown 2.0 (2022)

State Universities and the College Meltdown (2022) 

"20-20": Many US States Have Seen Enrollment Drops of More Than 20 Percent (2022) 

US Department of Education Projects Increasing Higher Ed Enrollment From 2024-2030. Really?(2022)

EdTech Meltdown (2023) 

Enrollment cliff? What enrollment cliff ? (2023)

Department of Education Fails (Again) to Modify Enrollment Projection (2023)

Sunday, September 7, 2025

Trump's War on Reality

The second Trump administration has unleashed a coordinated assault on reality itself—an effort that extends far beyond policy disagreements into the realm of deliberate gaslighting. Agency by agency, Trump’s lieutenants are reshaping facts, science, and language to consolidate power. Many of these figures, despite their populist rhetoric, come from elite universities, corporate boardrooms, or dynastic wealth. Their campaign is not just about dismantling government—it’s about erasing the ground truth that ordinary people rely on.

Department of State → Department of War

One of the starkest shifts has been renaming the State Department the “Department of War.” This rhetorical change signals the administration’s embrace of permanent conflict as strategy. Secretary Pete Hegseth, a Princeton graduate and former hedge fund executive, embodies the contradiction: Ivy League polish combined with cable-news bravado. Under his watch, diplomacy is downgraded, alliances undermined, and propaganda elevated to policy.

Department of Defense

The Pentagon has been retooled into a megaphone for Trump’s narrative that America is perpetually under siege. Despite the promise of “America First,” decisions consistently empower China and Russia by destabilizing traditional alliances. The irony: many of the architects of this policy cut their teeth at elite think tanks funded by the same defense contractors now profiting from chaos.

Department of Education

Trump’s appointees have doubled down on dismantling federal oversight, echoing the administration’s hostility to “woke indoctrination.” Yet the leaders spearheading this push often come from private prep schools and elite universities themselves. They know the value of credentialism for their own children, while stripping protections and opportunities from working families.

Department of Justice

Justice has been weaponized into a tool of disinformation. Elite law school alumni now run campaigns against “deep state” prosecutors, while simultaneously eroding safeguards against corruption. The result is a justice system where truth is malleable, determined not by evidence but by loyalty.

Department of Health and Human Services

Public health has been subsumed into culture war theatrics. Scientific consensus on climate, vaccines, and long-term health research is dismissed as partisan propaganda. Yet many of the leaders driving this narrative hail from institutions like Harvard and Stanford, where they once benefited from cutting-edge science, they now ridicule.

Environmental Protection Agency

The EPA has become the Environmental Pollution Agency, rolling back rules while gaslighting the public with claims of “cleaner air than ever.” Appointees often come directly from corporate law firms representing Big Oil and Big Coal, cloaking extractive capitalism in the language of freedom.

Department of Labor

Workers are told they are winning even as wages stagnate and union protections collapse. The elites orchestrating this rollback frequently hold MBAs from Wharton or Harvard Business School. They speak the language of “opportunity” while overseeing the erosion of worker rights and benefits.

Department of Homeland Security

Reality itself is policed here, where dissent is rebranded as domestic extremism. Elite operatives with ties to intelligence contractors enforce surveillance on ordinary Americans, while elite families enjoy immunity from scrutiny.


The Elite Architecture of Gaslighting

What unites these agencies is not just Trump’s directives, but the pedigree of the people carrying them out. Far from being the populist outsiders they claim to be, many hail from Ivy League schools, white-shoe law firms, or Fortune 500 boardrooms. They weaponize their privilege to convince the public that up is down, war is peace and lies are truth.

The war on reality is not a sideshow—it is the central project of this administration. For elites, it is a way to entrench their power. For the rest of us, it means living in a hall of mirrors where truth is constantly rewritten, and democracy itself hangs in the balance.


Sources

  • New York Times, Trump’s Cabinet and Their Elite Connections

  • Washington Post, How Trump Loyalists Are Reshaping Federal Agencies

  • Politico, The Ivy League Populists of Trump’s Inner Circle

  • ProPublica, Trump Administration’s Conflicts of Interest

  • Brookings Institution, Trump’s Assault on the Administrative State

  • Center for American Progress, Gaslighting the Public: Trump’s War on Facts

Monday, May 5, 2025

Trump’s War on Intellectualism Is a Threat to Democracy—But Elite Universities Aren’t Innocent Victims

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.

Thursday, July 3, 2025

The Law of Least Effort: Why Billionaires—and Elite Universities—Prefer Stale Ideas Over Bold Thinking

In the modern mythology of Silicon Valley and the Ivy League, billionaires and elite universities are imagined as bold visionaries, pushing humanity forward with daring innovation and world-changing ideas. But scratch the surface of this mythology and what you’ll often find instead is a kind of intellectual laziness—a preference for warmed-over ideas from mid-century science fiction, recycled neoliberal dogma, and technological determinism masquerading as insight.

This is the Law of Least Effort, not in physical labor, but in thought: a cognitive shortcut that prioritizes ideological safety over intellectual risk. Rather than genuinely exploring new paradigms or investing in critical inquiry, the ultra-rich and the institutions that train them tend to return to narrow, well-worn frameworks that preserve their worldview and their power.

Billionaire Boredom Disguised as Innovation

When Elon Musk buys into the fantasy of colonizing Mars, or Peter Thiel pines for libertarian seasteads and eternal life, these are not bold, new ideas—they’re pale echoes of Golden Age science fiction from the 1950s and 60s, regurgitated without reflection. These concepts were radical when Asimov or Heinlein explored them in fiction, but today they are escapist crutches for wealthy men who can’t (or won’t) confront the terrestrial problems their own wealth exacerbates.

The same goes for the obsession with AI, blockchain, or “effective altruism.” These are often less about solving real social issues and more about technocratic avoidance: sidestepping messy problems like poverty, racism, and labor exploitation by fantasizing that code or capital will save us. Billionaires don’t fund utopian social science—they fund Singularity University.

Elite Universities: Safe Havens for Tired Ideas

Elite universities, supposedly the engines of radical thought, are frequently the opposite. These institutions, particularly those with massive endowments like Harvard, Yale, and Stanford, are often intellectually risk-averse. Their financial security has made them more conservative, not less.

Rather than promoting critical or emergent perspectives—particularly those from marginalized communities or interdisciplinary thought—these schools cling to narrow forms of prestige knowledge: economics departments that treat market forces as natural law, international relations programs built around Cold War paradigms, or law schools that churn out corporate lawyers while ignoring structural injustice.

Even when elite universities gesture toward innovation, it's often market-driven or Silicon Valley-aligned. Interdisciplinary centers or “impact hubs” are structured to attract corporate partnerships, not challenge the foundations of economic and social power. Faculty who question capitalism, settler colonialism, or the ideology of meritocracy may find themselves pushed to the margins—if not altogether silenced by “donor sensitivities.”

An Educated Class That’s Intellectually Sedated

The elite graduates of these universities—many of whom become the consultants, bankers, tech executives, and policy shapers of tomorrow—are often not trained to be critical thinkers but intellectually domesticated agents of the status quo. Their version of education is a credentialing process, not a transformative one.

They read the canon, cite the correct theorists, nod to diversity in DEI statements, and pursue change only when it doesn't disrupt existing structures. This is intellectual effort only in the performative sense. The goal is fluency in the language of power, not the courage to question it.

The Cost of Cognitive Complacency

What’s lost in this system is incalculable: bold ideas, radical futures, deep ethical inquiry. Instead of investing in indigenous knowledge systems, speculative Black futurisms, transformative pedagogy, or critiques of extractive capitalism, we get another think tank report on “human capital optimization.”

This isn't just boring—it's dangerous. The world is facing intersecting crises: ecological collapse, rising authoritarianism, mass inequality. These cannot be solved with recycled ideas from libertarian science fiction or econometrics models from the Reagan era. They require intellectual courage, democratic imagination, and a willingness to fundamentally reimagine our institutions.

But that kind of thinking doesn’t come from those clinging to the Law of Least Effort. It comes from those excluded from the halls of elite power, working at the margins, asking the uncomfortable questions.

New Worlds Require New Thinking

The problem with the billionaires and the elite universities that shape them isn’t just that they hoard wealth. It’s that they hoard thought. They preserve a narrow intellectual landscape where old ideas are recycled, and challenging paradigms are dismissed as utopian or impractical.

If society wants to move forward, we need to stop mistaking wealth for wisdom, and prestige for insight. It’s time to break the mental monopoly of the elites and invest in thinkers, communities, and institutions that aren’t afraid to do the hard intellectual work—the kind that doesn’t just repeat the past but dares to invent the future.