University of Virginia President is Latest Casualty of Trump's War Against Higher Education

In a political environment increasingly hostile to independent academic thought, University of Virginia President James E. Ryan has become the latest victim of a broader right-wing campaign to reshape American higher education. On June 26, 2025, President Ryan announced he would step down in 2026 amid escalating political pressure from Governor Glenn Youngkin and conservative donors aligned with former President Donald Trump’s ideological movement.

Ryan’s departure signals a new phase in what many scholars, faculty advocates, and civil liberties organizations describe as a calculated “war on higher education.” This campaign—led by Trump-aligned political figures and well-funded conservative think tanks—seeks to silence dissent, reshape curricula, and exert direct control over public universities once considered bastions of academic freedom.

From Jefferson's Dream to a Political Battleground

Founded by Thomas Jefferson as an Enlightenment-era experiment in self-governance and inquiry, the University of Virginia (UVA) has long held symbolic and practical importance in debates over the role of public higher education. But in the Trump era—and its aftermath—UVA has become a target for ideologues determined to transform universities into instruments of state-aligned conservatism.

Under Governor Youngkin, a UVA alumnus with close ties to Trump’s network of political operatives and donors, the Board of Visitors has seen a rightward shift. Youngkin has appointed multiple trustees who are openly critical of so-called “woke ideology,” DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) programs, and what they describe as the “leftist capture” of the academy.

Behind the scenes, donors aligned with conservative power brokers—some of whom also back organizations like the Manhattan Institute and the Heritage Foundation—have pushed for greater oversight of faculty hiring, curriculum design, and student programming. These efforts have been coupled with demands for ideological “balance,” often interpreted as enforced conservatism within departments historically committed to independent research and peer-reviewed scholarship.

The Pressure Mounts

President Ryan, who took office in 2018, initially enjoyed broad support. A legal scholar and former dean of Harvard’s Graduate School of Education, he worked to increase access for low-income students, build partnerships across ideological lines, and maintain UVA’s national reputation as a top-tier research institution.

But in the polarized landscape of post-2020 politics, Ryan found himself increasingly isolated. His support for DEI initiatives and resistance to political interference in hiring practices drew fire from right-wing media and activists who accused him of promoting “Marxism” and “anti-American” values. Conservative lawmakers in Virginia began threatening funding, while pressure from the Board of Visitors grew more intense and public.

By spring 2025, insiders say, it became clear that Ryan was being pushed toward the door. His announcement on June 26 came just months after similar resignations or removals of university leaders in Florida, Texas, and North Carolina—all states where Republican governors and legislatures have tightened their grip on higher education institutions.

Part of a Broader Campaign

Ryan’s resignation is not an isolated incident. It is the latest in a national trend of politically motivated purges of university leadership. In Florida, Governor Ron DeSantis oversaw the forced transformation of New College into a conservative stronghold, appointing culture warriors to the board and replacing leadership. In Texas, universities have seen crackdowns on DEI offices, faculty tenure protections, and academic freedom under the guise of “protecting free speech.”

Former President Trump and his surrogates have repeatedly framed colleges and universities as enemies of the people, accusing them of indoctrinating youth and undermining national unity. Trump-aligned media outlets have amplified attacks on liberal arts programs, gender studies departments, and student activism, framing higher education as a battleground in the culture war.

Meanwhile, dark money groups such as the American Council of Trustees and Alumni (ACTA) and the Federalist Society continue to shape governance reforms that reduce faculty power and increase donor and political influence. Some universities have faced legislation requiring loyalty pledges or mandating ideological reporting, tactics reminiscent of Cold War-era McCarthyism.

The Stakes for the Future

The forced resignation of James Ryan represents more than the loss of a single university president—it is a bellwether of a changing higher education landscape. The public university, once envisioned as a bulwark of democratic inquiry and upward mobility, is being redefined by those who see knowledge not as a public good but as a political threat.

For faculty, staff, and students at UVA and beyond, the message is chilling: conform or be replaced. The right’s war on higher education shows no signs of slowing. With the 2026 midterm elections on the horizon and the Trump faction consolidating control over multiple states, more university leaders may soon face the same fate as President Ryan.

In this struggle, what is at stake is not only academic freedom, but the future of American democracy.

DeSantis-Led Coalition Launches New Accreditation Body: Ideology, Outcomes, and a Shift in Higher Ed Oversight

In a bold move that could upend the structure of higher education oversight in the United States, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis announced the creation of the Commission for Public Higher Education (CPHE)—a multi-state effort to challenge what he and his allies call the “activist-controlled accreditation monopoly.” The CPHE includes six Republican-led states: Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Texas.

Positioned as a new accrediting entity with a focus on “student outcomes, transparency, and ideological independence,” the CPHE represents a growing backlash against traditional regional accreditors like the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools Commission on Colleges (SACSCOC). According to DeSantis and CPHE proponents, these longstanding organizations have prioritized diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) and other perceived progressive mandates over academic quality, workforce readiness, and measurable outcomes.

The Political Context

Governor DeSantis has made higher education a central battleground in his broader cultural agenda, particularly since his administration launched efforts to eliminate DEI offices, weaken tenure protections, and reshape public university boards. The CPHE fits neatly into that larger campaign—what DeSantis calls “reclaiming higher education.”

“We’re breaking the stranglehold of the accreditation cartel,” DeSantis said in Boca Raton. “Florida is leading the way in building an education system based on results, not ideology.”

The effort is being coordinated with support from public university systems across the South, including the University of South Carolina and the University Systems of Georgia and Texas. University of South Carolina Board Chair Thad Westbrook praised the new accreditor’s “outcomes-based” framework, stating it will “benefit students while making accreditation more efficient.”

A Threat to the Federal Gatekeeping System?

Accreditation in the U.S. plays a crucial gatekeeping role: it determines whether institutions are eligible to receive federal student aid, including Pell Grants and federally backed student loans. For CPHE to have any real impact, it must eventually be recognized by the U.S. Department of Education.

That recognition is far from guaranteed. The process requires years of documentation, reviews, and approvals—and federal education officials may view CPHE’s openly political roots as problematic. Critics argue the consortium is more about ideological conformity than educational quality.

Risks and Ramifications

While the CPHE claims to offer a “rigorous” and “transparent” alternative to traditional accreditation, skeptics—including some education policy analysts and faculty advocates—warn that the real motive is political control over higher education institutions. By tying accreditation to a specific ideological framework, opponents fear that academic freedom, faculty governance, and research independence could be undermined.

There are also practical concerns. Should CPHE institutions lose recognition by federal agencies or face lawsuits over inconsistent standards, students could suffer the consequences—especially those relying on financial aid or seeking degrees with recognized accreditation.

Moreover, CPHE's narrow focus on "student outcomes" often means post-graduate earnings or job placement, metrics that oversimplify complex educational goals and ignore broader social and civic benefits of higher education.

A Test of Federalism in Higher Ed

This development marks an escalation in the state-federal tug-of-war over higher education. With the U.S. Supreme Court increasingly supportive of state autonomy, and with Congress gridlocked, states like Florida are testing how far they can go in reshaping public education under a conservative vision.

The CPHE may become a flashpoint in the national debate over what public universities are for—and who gets to decide. Whether this initiative results in meaningful improvement or becomes another chapter in the politicization of higher education remains to be seen.

EducationDynamics: Still Shilling for Subprime Robocolleges

In 2021, The Higher Education Inquirer published an investigative report exposing the operations of EducationDynamics (“EDDY”), a for-profit lead generation and marketing firm with deep ties to some of the most controversial colleges in American higher education. Four years later, that story has not only held up—it demands a deeper and more urgent follow-up.

EDDY now claims that over the past five years, its clients have experienced an average of 47% enrollment growth above industry benchmarks, attributing this success to its “research-driven, continuous optimization process.” But behind that growth lies a troubling blend of aggressive marketing, deceptive lead generation, and exploitative labor practices—practices that appear to have only intensified.

A History of Bait and Switch

EDDY’s core operations remain rooted in multichannel marketing and lead generation for colleges—especially for-profit and formerly for-profit online institutions. These include Purdue University Global (formerly Kaplan University), University of Arizona Global (formerly Ashford University), American Intercontinental University, Colorado Technical Institute, and South University—all institutions with checkered histories of student outcomes, loan defaults, and regulatory scrutiny.

As previously reported by The Higher Education Inquirer, EDDY—originally known as Halyard Education—has been under ethical clouds for more than a decade. The company funneled leads to shuttered schools like Corinthian Colleges, ITT Technical Institute, and Virginia College, all of which collapsed under regulatory and legal pressure for defrauding students.

EDDY has expanded by acquiring other dubious operations. In 2019 and 2020, it bought up assets from Thruline and QuinStreet, the latter of which had been prosecuted by 20 state attorneys general in 2012 for deceiving military veterans through a phony education site, GIBill.com.

At least one source has linked EDDY to Alec Defrawi, a lead generator sued by the Federal Trade Commission in 2016 for job-application bait-and-switch tactics. Defrawi collected data from people seeking jobs, then sold it to education marketers who aggressively pitched them school enrollment instead. While the FTC complaint didn’t name EDDY directly, a public comment on the FTC’s site suggests a relationship between Defrawi and Halyard/EducationDynamics.

The 2025 Workforce Machine: Exploiting the Exploited

New accounts from Glassdoor and Indeed, along with internal conversations with former employees, show that EDDY's call centers in Boca Raton, Florida and Lenexa, Kansas continue to engage in bait-and-switch tactics. People looking for jobs are redirected to enrollment pitches for schools—many of which offer low graduation rates, high debt burdens, and little return on investment.

The call centers are described as toxic, high-pressure environments, where workers are paid $10 an hour, offered no real commission, and are charged up to $225 per day from their commission pool just to keep their jobs. According to workers, “good leads” are reserved for long-timers and favorites, while new and lower-ranked workers are left dialing disconnected numbers or harassing desperate job seekers.

“They want you to do a lot for $10 an hour,” said one former employee. “They’ll micromanage everything, and if you speak up about the shady stuff, you get punished or iced out.”

Former employees describe being instructed to use aliases and different company names to avoid regulatory detection and consumer suspicion. Others say they were explicitly told not to submit job applications that consumers had filled out, so they could be redirected toward school enrollments instead.

The Kansas location appears to mirror many of the Florida call center's tactics. One sales associate in Lenexa noted they were “getting shady and uninterested leads” and claimed that management was fully aware of the source and quality of these leads.

A Rigged System, Disguised as Opportunity

EDDY hides behind slick language and upbeat metrics, claiming to help students “adapt to the changing needs of today.” But the company’s model thrives on a population of vulnerable, low-income Americans—people simply looking for a job—who are rerouted into student loan debt for education they didn’t want or need.

Meanwhile, the people doing this marketing—call center employees—are also trapped. Lured in with promises of stability and advancement, they find a micromanaged workplace with no real raises, little upward mobility, and workplace retaliation for dissent.

The Better Business Bureau (BBB) gives EducationDynamics an A+ rating, which seems absurd given the overwhelming volume of worker testimonies and student complaints. It’s a glaring example of how the education marketing sector continues to operate with minimal oversight, even as its practices echo the discredited tactics of predatory for-profit colleges from the 2000s and 2010s.

The Bigger Picture

The collapse of Corinthian Colleges and ITT Tech was supposed to signal the end of an era. But EducationDynamics proves that the infrastructure of exploitation never disappeared—it simply rebranded, consolidated, and evolved. Today, it masquerades as a data-driven enrollment consultancy helping colleges grow, while quietly fueling the same pipeline of debt and despair for working-class Americans seeking stability.

Colleges desperate for enrollments, workers desperate for jobs, and the education marketing complex that profits from both—that is the dangerous triangle in which EDDY operates.

Final Thoughts

EDDY’s reported 47% enrollment growth comes with a heavy cost: false hopes, student debt, and labor exploitation. As the higher ed crisis deepens and more colleges seek lifelines, it’s imperative that watchdogs, regulators, and journalists remain vigilant about who’s behind the scenes pulling the strings.

EducationDynamics is not just a marketing firm. It is a relic of the for-profit college era—one that never really ended.

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If you've worked for EducationDynamics or were misled by their marketing, the Higher Education Inquirer wants to hear from you. Contact us confidentially at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu.

Parental Pushback: Liberal Resistance to Right-Wing Indoctrination in Oklahoma Schools

In the heart of red-state America, a quiet rebellion is taking shape—led not by liberal politicians or university activists, but by parents of K-12 students. In Oklahoma, a growing number of families are fighting back against what they see as an aggressive ideological campaign by far-right leaders to insert misinformation, religious doctrine, and partisan propaganda into public school classrooms.

This resistance is not coming through marches or lawsuits alone, but through the very legal tools that conservatives once championed: parental rights. Families across the state are opting their children out of controversial new social studies standards that they claim distort U.S. history, undermine democratic institutions, and promote Christian nationalism.

Tulsa parent Lauren Parker is among the voices leading this countercharge. “Now that it’s being codified and now that it’s being brought more into the public eye, the liberals have realized that those are our rights too,” she said.

Her main concern: language recently added to Oklahoma’s social studies curriculum that questions the legitimacy of the 2020 presidential election. The standards require students to "identify discrepancies" in the results, echoing discredited claims advanced by Donald Trump and his supporters. These include references to “sudden halting of ballot-counting,” “sudden batch dumps,” and “security risks of mail-in balloting”—all without factual basis, and all now embedded in state-mandated education.

These standards were quietly introduced by State Superintendent Ryan Walters and passed by the Oklahoma State Board of Education, some of whom now claim they were unaware of the changes at the time of the vote. A legal challenge is pending in Oklahoma County District Court, questioning the procedures used to approve the new standards.

The opt-out movement has been fueled by organizations like We’re Oklahoma Education—WOKE—formed as a progressive response to right-wing parent groups like Moms for Liberty. WOKE provides parents with templated letters to exempt their children from lessons that include election misinformation, Biblical teachings, and content produced by conservative media outlets like PragerU and ideologically driven institutions like Hillsdale College and Turning Point USA.

“If you believe parents know best, then that applies to all parents,” said WOKE director Erica Watkins, a mother of two public school students in Jenks. Watkins, who describes her family as non-religious, said she won’t allow her children to be taught about Christian scripture in a public school classroom.

Walters has defended the addition of Biblical content as a way to provide historical context, arguing that the teachings of Jesus and the Bible shaped the country’s founding values. But parents like Parker see it differently: “This isn’t about history and facts. It’s about pushing their faith on us, and that’s unacceptable. It’s un-American.”

WOKE members are extending their efforts beyond classrooms. Their opt-out letters also reject any “interaction” with Walters and reject the use of content linked to partisan or religious agendas. In some districts, including Stillwater and Tulsa, school officials have indicated a willingness to honor these requests while awaiting clearer guidance on how to implement the new standards.

Ironically, the legal protections that parents are now invoking stem from Republican-led legislation designed to protect children from what conservatives labeled as “woke indoctrination.” Now, the same legal framework is being used to resist the imposition of a narrow, ideologically driven curriculum. As Senate Minority Leader Julia Kirt noted, “If we have separate schools for everybody who has different beliefs, we’re going to have some real challenges.”

That challenge isn't just philosophical. The battle for K-12 curriculum is already shaping higher education outcomes. Students trained in a politically skewed version of American history may enter college unprepared for academic rigor, especially in disciplines like political science, history, and journalism. Public universities in red states could increasingly find themselves in conflict with the ideological pressures shaping their incoming student populations. Faculty, already under scrutiny in places like Florida and Texas, may have to navigate a new wave of cultural and political tension on campus.

Meanwhile, the polarization of public education is reinforcing broader national divides—between those who see schools as places of civic development and democratic inquiry, and those who view them as battlegrounds in a culture war.

The resistance in Oklahoma marks a new chapter in that war. It's a reminder that parental rights are not the sole property of any political party—and that misinformation, no matter how it’s packaged, won’t go unchallenged. The pushback from parents like Parker and Watkins reflects a broader struggle for control over public education, truth, and the future of American democracy.

And in this fight, the line between K-12 and higher education grows thinner every day.

How Right-Wing Ideology is Reshaping K–12 Education in Conservative States

In red states across the country, conservative ideology is reshaping K–12 education. Legislatures and governors have used their political power to exert greater control over what children learn in public schools. These changes reflect a broader cultural war playing out in classrooms, as political leaders seek to influence the future of American identity, history, and morality—often at the expense of marginalized students and professional educators.

In Texas, lawmakers have pushed for sweeping restrictions on how race, gender, and history are taught. Laws such as HB 3979 and Senate Bill 3 prohibit teachers from discussing so-called “divisive concepts,” including systemic racism and white privilege. These laws also mandate that educators present controversial historical topics in a “neutral” manner, which critics argue whitewashes the truth and undermines historical accuracy. Meanwhile, efforts by the Texas State Board of Education have promoted materials with religious overtones, such as the optional Bluebonnet Learning curriculum, which includes biblical references and is seen by many as a step toward religious indoctrination in public schools.

In Florida, Governor Ron DeSantis has led an aggressive campaign to root out what he calls “woke ideology” in public education. Florida’s “Stop WOKE Act” prohibits instruction that could make students feel discomfort based on their race or sex, effectively chilling honest discussions about American history and inequality. The state has also expanded the so-called “Don’t Say Gay” law to restrict classroom discussion on gender identity and sexual orientation from kindergarten through high school. At the same time, Florida has approved conservative content from groups like PragerU, a media organization criticized for promoting historical revisionism and partisan propaganda. Book bans and library censorship have surged under the pretext of parental rights, with thousands of titles—often involving LGBTQ characters or themes of racial justice—removed from shelves across the state.

In Oklahoma, State Superintendent Ryan Walters has become a national symbol of Christian nationalist education policy. Under his leadership, Oklahoma has moved to require Bible instruction in classrooms and to place physical copies of the Bible in every public school, a decision halted by the courts but still championed by Walters. The state’s curriculum standards now include directives for students to examine supposed discrepancies in the 2020 presidential election, encouraging distrust in democratic institutions. Walters has also made inflammatory public statements against teachers who discuss racism or gender identity, creating a hostile climate for educators and students alike.

Similar measures have taken hold in other Republican-led states. Arizona, Tennessee, Idaho, and Iowa have passed legislation banning instruction on critical race theory, even in schools where CRT was never part of the curriculum. These laws are often written vaguely, leading to confusion and fear among educators about what is permissible in the classroom. Across these states, teacher resignations are rising, and lawsuits are mounting, as educators refuse to remain silent in the face of increasing state surveillance and ideological control.

The rise of privatization further complicates the picture. Voucher programs and education savings accounts are being promoted under the banner of “school choice,” which critics argue undermines public education by redirecting taxpayer dollars to private and religious schools. In Florida and Texas especially, these efforts coincide with the ideological push to dismantle public trust in public education.

Christian nationalism has become an undercurrent of the new educational movement, with politicians and advocacy groups pushing for prayer in schools, Bible-based curricula, and faith-oriented discipline policies. In some cases, this aligns with efforts to incorporate conservative Christian morality into science education, including the promotion of abstinence-only sex education and skepticism about evolution.

The cumulative effect of these actions is the erosion of academic freedom, the marginalization of LGBTQ and nonwhite students, and the politicization of what should be a fact-based and inclusive educational system. Teachers are under pressure to self-censor. Students are being taught a sanitized, sometimes distorted version of American history. School libraries are being stripped of diverse perspectives. And voters are often unaware of the long-term damage being done in the name of “parental rights” and “traditional values.”

These changes are not merely symbolic. They reflect a fundamental struggle over who controls the narrative of American identity. As right-wing politicians in Texas, Florida, Oklahoma, and other red states reshape K–12 education, they are laying the groundwork for a future electorate steeped in selective memory, limited exposure to diversity, and an education system more responsive to political power than to pedagogy.

This ideological restructuring of K–12 education carries deep and lasting consequences for higher education. Students emerging from these red-state school systems may come to college with significant gaps in knowledge, diminished critical thinking skills, and exposure to misinformation presented as fact. A student who has never been taught about systemic racism, who has been told to question the legitimacy of the 2020 election, or who has grown up fearing open conversations about gender and sexuality, may find the university classroom bewildering—or threatening.

As a result, colleges and universities, particularly public institutions, are seeing increasing polarization in their student bodies. Some students enter ready for open discourse and academic exploration, while others arrive suspicious of professors, defensive about their beliefs, or wholly unprepared for the demands of college-level coursework. Faculty, in turn, face the difficult task of correcting misinformation without triggering political backlash or student grievances rooted in the ideological conditioning of their high school years.

There are broader administrative and cultural consequences. As universities work to build inclusive campuses that serve diverse student populations, they are being accused by conservative lawmakers and media outlets of promoting “woke indoctrination.” Funding for diversity, equity, and inclusion programs is being cut in states like Florida and Texas, as political leaders seek to exert greater control over what happens on college campuses. The message is clear: challenge the narrative, and you risk losing public support and state money.

Meanwhile, teacher shortages—already critical in many parts of the country—are worsening as qualified educators flee repressive school environments. The erosion of K–12 education quality leads to declining college readiness, which in turn affects admissions, retention, and graduation rates. Colleges may have to invest more in remedial programs and rethink traditional academic benchmarks to accommodate students whose schooling was stunted by political interference.

Higher education is also at risk of becoming a battlefield in the next phase of the culture war. As red states seek to bring public universities “in line” with state-approved ideologies, academic freedom and institutional autonomy are increasingly under threat. What begins in elementary classrooms does not stay there—it eventually shapes the electorate, the labor force, and the national discourse.

The right-wing assault on public education is not only a challenge to teachers and students—it is a challenge to democracy and the free exchange of ideas. As the K–12 system becomes a proving ground for ideological control, the mission of higher education as a space for critical inquiry and social mobility is being steadily undermined. What’s at stake is not just what children learn—but whether future generations will be allowed to think freely at all.

PragerU and the Culture War: Manufacturing Myths in Higher Education and Beyond

In the evolving landscape of American media and education, PragerU stands out as a well-funded propaganda machine disguised as an educational institution. Despite the name, Prager University is not a university. It does not grant degrees, offer accredited courses, or submit to academic oversight. Instead, it produces short, emotionally charged videos designed to reshape young minds around a rigid conservative ideology—an ideology increasingly aligned with Christian nationalism, market fundamentalism, and historical denialism.

Founded in 2009 by talk radio host Dennis Prager, PragerU emerged during the rise of social media and deepening political polarization. The timing was ideal. With traditional civics education struggling and digital content consumption rising, PragerU began churning out five-minute videos purporting to teach the "real truth" about history, race, gender, economics, and science. These slickly produced segments claim to correct misinformation, but in reality they deliver a narrow worldview fueled by grievance, nostalgia, and moral panic.

PragerU content routinely distorts established historical and scientific knowledge. It reframes American slavery as a common global occurrence, rather than as a foundational atrocity that has shaped U.S. legal and economic systems to this day. It minimizes climate change, portraying it as exaggerated fearmongering driven by radical environmentalists, even as the scientific consensus grows increasingly dire. And it routinely dismisses systemic racism, patriarchy, and wealth inequality as myths invented by the political left to divide Americans.

This style of storytelling directly contradicts the evidence-based approaches found in the work of sociologist James Loewen and historian Howard Zinn. Loewen’s Lies My Teacher Told Me exposed how mainstream K–12 textbooks sanitize U.S. history by ignoring racism, class struggle, and colonialism. Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States took it further, reframing the American narrative through the voices of the marginalized—the enslaved, the working class, women, and the indigenous. While Loewen and Zinn sought to challenge students to think critically and question power, PragerU does the opposite. It seeks to reassure students that the status quo is righteous and that questioning it is dangerous.

PragerU’s rise also coincides with real, deeply rooted problems in American education. There are serious and measurable deficiencies in literacy, numeracy, and critical thinking among U.S. students and even adults. These educational gaps leave many people vulnerable to simplistic narratives and emotionally charged misinformation. PragerU does not aim to fill those gaps with rigorous content; it exploits them. Its materials demand little from viewers beyond ideological alignment. The videos offer no footnotes, no peer-reviewed sources, and no intellectual challenge—just certainty delivered with polish.

And yet, increasingly, these materials are being welcomed into public school classrooms. In states like Florida and Oklahoma, conservative lawmakers and school officials have approved or endorsed PragerU content as part of the curriculum. This insertion of ideologically driven material into state-sanctioned education is not just alarming—it’s part of a broader attempt to reshape how young people see their country and their place in it.

The broader culture war that PragerU is part of is not simply about liberal versus conservative. It’s about whether education should cultivate independent thinking and historical awareness—or obedient loyalty to a sanitized narrative. PragerU paints itself as a corrective to “leftist indoctrination,” but what it offers is another form of indoctrination: one that demands allegiance to a version of America that never existed, where racism was a glitch, climate change is hysteria, and capitalism is above critique.

Its media tactics are savvy. PragerU’s videos are short, colorful, and emotionally potent—perfectly crafted for young viewers raised on TikTok and YouTube. While teachers fight to hold students’ attention with limited resources, PragerU offers a packaged worldview that feels easy and affirming. But this ease comes at the cost of intellectual development. True learning requires struggle, contradiction, and evidence—not comforting stories that confirm one’s existing biases.

What’s missing from PragerU’s content is precisely what makes education meaningful: complexity, context, and the capacity to think beyond slogans. When students read Lies My Teacher Told Me or A People’s History, they may feel discomfort, but they also grow. They learn that history is not a patriotic myth but a contested and dynamic struggle over meaning and power.

To respond to PragerU’s growing reach, educators and the public must take the real problems in education seriously. Media literacy, civic education, and historical thinking should be reinforced, not removed. Students must be equipped not just with facts, but with the tools to evaluate competing narratives and sources of information. Schools and universities must resist pressure to adopt content that fails basic tests of intellectual honesty and academic rigor.

PragerU is not simply another voice in a pluralistic conversation. It is part of a movement to reduce education to ideological messaging. It thrives on a public that has been failed by underfunded schools, fractured media, and growing economic insecurity. But recognizing this reality does not mean surrendering to it.

If the goal is to prepare young people to navigate a complex world, we must choose truth over comfort, questioning over certainty, and education over indoctrination.

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Higher Education in Retreat (Gary Roth)

 [Editor's note: This article first appeared in the Brooklyn Rail.  We thank the Brooklyn Rail for allowing us to repost this.]

For decades, the top-tier colleges and universities—often represented by Harvard, Yale, and Princeton, but including a few dozen other private and public institutions as well—have reshaped themselves to accommodate the rapidly-changing demographic profile of the United States.1 From all appearances, the universities were also in harmony with the sensibilities and preferences of the country’s leading citizens. Key moments, like the sanctioning of gay marriage that found support from wide-spread sectors of the upper class, seemed to solidify the drift towards a diverse and tolerant social order, one that resonated not only domestically but internationally as well.

The future evolution of civil society was, in this way of thinking, firmly and finally in hand. Bitter acrimony might characterize the political world or single-issue items like abortion, but actual developments outweighed the leftover pockets of resistance, which in any case were thought to be localized in less significant parts of the country and the world and could at best only slow the inevitable. How hard people pushed for change would ultimately determine the future.

This somnambulistic mode of thought pervaded the university world and also wide swaths of the liberal public. It helps explain the ease with which parts of the university community, after an initial round of caution, joined hands with its political opposition to suppress the campus protests that developed in response to Israel’s brutality towards Palestinian civilians.

Appeasement and accommodation, while regrettable within the academic community because of the retreat from sacrosanct ideas such as freedom of speech and freedom of assembly, nonetheless set the stage for developments that followed the national elections at the end of last year. Martin Niemöller’s self-confession about his support—as a Lutheran pastor—for the German fascists during the 1930s captures nicely the corner into which the higher education community had boxed itself:

When the Nazis came for the Communists, I kept quiet; I wasn’t a communist.
When they came for the trade unionists, I kept quiet; I wasn’t a trade unionist.
When they jailed the Social Democrats, I kept quiet; I wasn’t a social democrat.
When they jailed the Jews, I kept quiet; I wasn’t a Jew.
When they came for me, there was no one left who could protest.2

Without a vibrant protest movement already in place to push against harsh and arbitrary actions, the universities seemed to have little choice but to acquiesce to a regime that seems interested in flattening the population into an undifferentiated mass.3

Because appeasement and accommodation have been embraced as proactive survival tactics, resistance has centered on a judicial system thought to be less conservative than the groups that have come to dominate the executive and legislative branches of government, a judiciary conceptualized as a mediator rather than an initiator and enforcer of social conflict. Given the legal system’s history, this too becomes another moment of sleep walking. It is a huge distance from the dynamism that characterized the world of higher education not long ago.

Among the most dynamic institutions have been the privately-governed universities like Harvard, Yale, and Princeton. Not just their social vision, but their great wealth allowed them to embrace initiatives that stand at the forefront of attempts to remold institutional behavior. Front and center have been efforts to diversify the upper ranks of corporate, governmental, and non-profit establishments such that they too reflect the diversity of the population at large.

Previous attempts to diversify the collegiate student body by means of affirmative action programs that focused on underrepresented groups, especially African Americans and Latines, were struck down by the judiciary. Anti-affirmative action backlash took aim at the admissions policies at highly-competitive graduate programs, such as elite law and medical schools, and on prestigious scholarship programs. The backlash, in other words, concentrated on the byways that provided access into the upper levels of society.

Schools and programs that served the remainder of the population were not of particular concern. Graduate programs in public administration, for instance, where the training of mid-level administrators is the aim, rarely came under attack, whether located at medium-sized liberal arts colleges or regional state universities. These types of institutions also suspended their affirmative action initiatives, but mostly as preemptive moves to avoid future litigation. By strategically targeting the institutions at the top, the entire system was enticed to reorient itself.

Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives were one of the responses to both past and recent judicial rollbacks. These were initiatives directed toward the recruitment and retention of underrepresented groups rather than their admission and funding. DEI initiatives, though, did not deal with the cost of attendance, which at the elite private institutions is beyond everyone’s means except for the wealthy. For tuition, room, and board to attend as an undergraduate, the current cost for the 2025–26 school year at Princeton, for example, is $82,650. Fees are extra.4

Financial incentives based on socioeconomic status, however, were a strategy that seemingly silenced all critics. The most generous programs encompass virtually all applicants from either a working or middle class background; that is, everyone except the elite is covered as long as household or parental income is below $200,000 annually. At Princeton, the limit is $100,000, pegged considerably above the level of median household income in the United States.5

This allows the institutions to be “needs-blind” and recruit students no matter their financial situation. A tuition-free college education—once a hallmark of publicly-funded institutions—has been revived at the upper end of the spectrum, a profound assertion by these institutions of their intent to further the socioeconomic, racial, and ethnic integration of the upper class.

One consequence of these cost-free programs is that it is often cheaper to attend an elite college like Princeton than to attend the nearby publicly-funded state university, the flagship institution—in this case, Rutgers University-New Brunswick. These figures are drawn from government calculations that show actual expenses for families at different tiers of the socioeconomic spectrum:6

CHART 1 – ANNUAL UNDERGRADUATE NET COST OF ATTENDANCE

Family income	PRINCETON	RUTGERS-NEW BRUNSWICK
Less than $ 30,000	$  2,518	$15,885
$30,001 - $ 48,000	$  4,682	$15,532
$48,001 - $ 75,000	$  7,652	$17,578
$75,001 - $110,000	$13,849	$24,020
Over $110,001	$39,943	$33,460

 

A significant reversal has taken place. The elite privates have become the exemplars for the entire system of higher education, not just academically but economically as well. It makes economic sense for the poor to attend elite private institutions (assuming they are offered one of the few open slots) and for the rich to attend publicly-funded ones. Because student loans are not part of these aid packages, students at elite colleges graduate with less debt than students at nearby public flagships.7

We find, then, that the more selective the college—Princeton admits five percent of applicants, Rutgers-New Brunswick sixty-five percent—the cheaper it is to attend, and the more likely you are to graduate—at Princeton ninety-eight percent, at Rutgers-New Brunswick eighty-four percent—the less that debt encumbers you afterwards. And what’s true about the comparison of Princeton and its nearby publicly-funded flagship is true in other states also: Harvard and University of Massachusetts in Amherst, Yale and the University of Connecticut at Storrs, and so on.

Just as important, student socioeconomic profiles parallel those at nearby public flagships. At Princeton, one in five (twenty percent) of its students receives a Pell Grant. These are the federally-funded grants awarded when family income is below, roughly, $50,000. Pell Grants thus serve as a reasonable measure of the density of students from working class and poor backgrounds at a particular institution. At Rutgers-New Brunswick, it is one in four students (28 percent).

Socioeconomic programs like the one at Princeton exist at more than a hundred public and privately-governed college institutions. Taken altogether, there has been a quiet undermining of commonly-accepted assumptions regarding elite institutions and their public counterparts. That the private elite institutions often outperform the public sector ones in matters traditionally considered the latter’s prerogative shows how deeply intertwined the private and public sectors have become.

Yet for all their efforts, the elite institutions still do not reflect the demographics of the population at large. This is true for the elite privates and also for public flagships. Nationally, thirty percent of students receive Pell Grants, a measure of the degree to which the working class has become a substantial part of the university community. At top-tier schools, however, fewer of their students receive Pell Grants. At Harvard, it is seventeen percent; at Yale, nineteen percent; at the Texas flagship, UT Austin, twenty-five percent; at the Florida flagship, UF Gainesville, twenty-three percent.8

That socioeconomic diversity is lower at elite privates and public flagships than is the national norm is not surprising, given the amply-documented correlation between parental finances and scholastic performance.9 Students from wealthier backgrounds, as a rule, perform better academically and are more likely to attend prestigious institutions. Still, the top-tier institutions have come a long way from the times in which they represented, with few exceptions: only the elite.

At places like Princeton, the student body is nearly as diverse racially and ethnically as at the nearby state flagship. According to the broad demographic categories used in government publications and legislation, we find that at both Princeton and Rutgers-New Brunswick, there are no majorities, only minorities:10

CHART 2 – RACE AND ETHNICITY AT TOP-TIER INSTITUTIONS

(in percents)	PRINCETON	RUTGERS-NEW BRUNSWICK
Asian	24	33
Black (African American)	9	7
Hispanic (Latine)	10	16
White	36	31
Non-Resident Alien (International Students)	12	7
Two or More Races (Multiracial)	7	4

 

Immigration and migration initially produced majority-less campuses at urban public institutions; in other words, at institutions located in major metropolitan areas—places where jobs are numerous and resistance to newcomers often diffuse and undirected. At Princeton and other elite institutions, however, it is not demographics, but merit—in combination with these economically-based financial aid packages—that drive the dynamic.

Forty-five years ago, individuals self-identified as white represented eighty-four percent of all undergraduates but only seventy-seven percent of eighteen to twenty-four year-olds (Chart 3). Higher education was a significant cultural dynamic for this group. A major reversal has since taken place, in which the white population now accounts for fifty-two percent of eighteen to twenty-four year-olds and the same percentage of college students. Their lead has been lost.

Every other group has moved in the opposite direction, increasing its presence within the collegiate system faster than their increase in either population or the prime college-attending age cohort (eighteen to twenty-four year-olds). The latter group has been relatively stable within the Black population, for instance, only increasing one percentage point from thirteen to fourteen percent during those decades. But the presence of Black students among undergraduate college students has increased from nine to thirteen percent. Among the Latine (Hispanic) population, the increase has been dramatic. While their share of eighteen to twenty-four year-olds tripled from eight to twenty-four percent, their share among undergraduates increased more than five-fold.

Affirmative action and DEI initiatives fostered the importance of a college education as a means to circumvent obstacles within the economy:11

CHART 3 – RACIAL & ETHNIC DIVERSITY

	18-24 YEAR-OLDS		HIGHER EDUCATION
(in percents)	1980	2022	1980	2022
Asian	2	6	2	8
Black	13	14	9	13
Hispanic	8	24	4	22
White	77	52	84	52
Two or More Races	—	4	—	4

 

Over the past half century, a leveling of the population has taken place, with the Black, Latine, and white communities all participating in post-secondary education at rates equivalent to their respective shares of the prime college-attending age group (eighteen to twenty-four year-olds).

This equalization is an aspect of reality that has been neglected by the academic community, which has generally focused on the advantages members of the white community have both educationally and occupationally due to kinship and parental networks, friendship circles, neighborhood contacts, and a lack of discrimination based on skin color. Implicit in this view is that whites need not rely on the educational system as heavily as other groups, since alternative avenues of advancement are available.

In many of the top institutions, the fall-off of white students is quite pronounced:

CHART 4 - DIVERSITY AT PRIVATE ELITES AND PUBLIC FLAGSHIPS

(in percents)	Higher Education	Harvard	Yale	Columbia	UPenn	UT Austin	UF Gainesville
Asian	8	22	23	18	28	25	12
Black	13	9	9	8	9	5	5
Hispanic	22	12	16	16	11	28	24
White	52	33	32	30	30	32	50
Non-Resident	—	14	11	18	12	4	2
Two/+ Races	4	7	7	6	5	4	5

 

During the decades in which affirmative action and DEI programs have attempted to bring some measure of equal access and equal achievement to educational endeavors, parts of the white community were drifting away. This blind-spot within the academic community’s understanding of social dynamics meant that concepts of relative disadvantage might have fit the situation just as well as ones of privilege and advantage.12

Increased funding in order to include whites in DEI initiatives is a possible solution, although a fundamental rethinking of inclusivity is also called for. Instead, the elimination of services and programs has become a mandate to ensure that no group will be helped to rise out of an undifferentiated mass. If government and higher education are taken out of the picture, social advancement, which always requires additional resources, then hinges solely on the wherewithal of individual families.

The university community, with its emphasis on inclusion and diversity, has represented a last outpost of a kind of thinking—of governmental spending and educational activism—that was once heralded under the label of Keynesianism and dates back to the immediate post-World War II period when everything seemed possible. Like the fate of the white population, society itself has gone through a long-winded period of evolution and transformation despite the tenacity of modes of thought initially generated in previous times.

Because colleges and universities depend so heavily on external funding for research grants and student loans, the political world has laid claim to its governance in ever-aggressive ways. The opening thrust has concentrated on the elite privates—Columbia, UPenn, Harvard, and Princeton among them. The integration of the two worlds of politics and education, in this sense, signals the remaking of higher education into a sphere of government in which the political world functions as its own type of board of directors. While the federal Department of Education is in the process of dissolution, the entire system of higher education is being reduced to the level of a federal department. This is part of an overall effort to curtail civil society and reign in its independence, in which scientists—initially those whose work concentrates on the environment or on global public health issues—have been a major focus.

Perhaps it is in this sense that we can understand the reluctance of university executives to confront directly what at first seemed to be scattershot criticisms aimed at various parts of their enterprises and why they did not push back harder at the assertion that criticism of Israeli policies is a form of antisemitism. It is not just that the higher education community was unprepared for the level and intensity of the criticisms, but that it was so highly vulnerable.

The top-tier institutions are the gonfaloniers of modern times, targets whose capture on the battlefield disorients the troops that follow their lead. To intimidate and diminish the top-tier institutions sends a message to the wider educational community about the punitive actions that non-compliance may bring. It effectively shifts the center of gravity throughout a major portion of society. In the conflict between the government and the educational community that depends on it, the latter can only lose, even if the degree to which it loses is still to be determined. The universities are a highly strategic and, as it turns out, easy target, ideologically and in terms of government expenses.

That the university community has also served as a base and breeding ground for liberal politics is still another reason for its subjugation.13 The overall result gestures in the direction of a shrunken and harshly repressed and repressive educational system that cowers to executive mandates because of the certainty that if not, legislative enactments will follow.14 Highly successful white males are the driving force behind all this. Their goal: a system that encourages no exceptions except for people who mimic themselves.

The world we have known is disappearing, an unraveling that would take considerable time to now reassemble. It is unclear whether and to what degree colleges and universities will remain as sanctuaries for the expression of ideas inconsonant with the political establishment. Perhaps some solace is to be found in this quip by Mother Jones, herself a fierce labor movement advocate at the turn of the nineteenth into the twentieth centuries. She was heard to say: “Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living.”

1. Between 1980 and 2022, the major changes were in the white population, which fell from 80 to 59 percent, while the Latine population increased dramatically from 7 to 19 percent. The Black population barely changed—from 12 to 13 percent, and the Asian population increased from 2 to 6 percent. National Center for Education Statistics, Digest of Education Statistics–Most Current Digest Tables, 2023, Tables 101.20.
2. Many versions of this poem exist. The version here is unabridged, translated from the original.
3. Alan Blinder, “Trump’s Battles With Colleges Could Change American Culture for a Generation.” The New York Times, March 20, 2025.
4. Cost & Aid | Princeton Admission.
5. Median annual income is just over $80,000 per year. These programs also take into account a family's wealth in property, business assets, etc., in complicated formulas that can mitigate qualifying on income alone. Stephanie Saul, “Harvard Will Make Tuition Free for More Students.” The New York Times, 17 March 2025; Peyton Beverford, Free Tuition for Low-Income Students | Appily. 21 March 2025; US Census Bureau, Income in the United States: 2023, 10 September 2024.
6. Unless indicated otherwise, all data is from the US Department of Education, College Scorecard, 23 April 2025. For each institution, see the various listings under: Costs, By Family Income; Financial Aid & Debt; Test Scores and Acceptance; Graduation & Retention; Typical Earnings; Campus Diversity.
7. At Princeton, the median debt for undergraduates when they finish their degrees is $10,320; at Rutgers-New Brunswick, it is $21,500.
8. Share of Federal Pell Grants recipients U.S. 2024 | Statista.
9. The situation a decade ago: “among ‘Ivy-Plus’ colleges (the eight Ivy League colleges, University of Chicago, Stanford, MIT, and Duke), more students come from families in the top 1% of the income distribution (14.5%) than the bottom half of the income distribution (13.5%).” Raj Chetty, John N. Friedman, Emmanuel Saez, Nicholas Turner, and Danny Yagan, “Mobility Report Cards: The Role of Colleges in Intergenerational Mobility,” National Bureau of Economic Research. https://www.nber.org/papers/w23618, July 2017, p. 1.
10. Not listed are: American Indian/Alaska Native, Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander, and Unknown. Numbers do not always equal 100 due to rounding or these absent categories.
11. National Center for Education Statistics, Digest of Education Statistics-Most Current Digest Tables, 2023, Tables 101.20, 306.10 (scroll down for the relevant data—based on 2022 totals, rounded up).
12. In the academic trilogy of race, class, and gender, many scholars sought a means to move the discussion of class from the theoretical, where it received extensive attention, to the concrete so that it could function similarly to the analyses of race and gender. Intersectionality has been one of the results, which nonetheless still leaves class undertheorized on a concrete level.
13. On voting patterns, see: Matt Grossmann and David A. Hopkins, Polarized Degrees: How the Diploma Divide and the Culture War Transformed American Politics. Cambridge University Press: 2024.
14. Isabelle Taft, “How Colleges Are Surveilling Students Now.” The New York Times, March 29, 2025.

Thanks to Jules David Bartkowski, Anne Lopes, and Paul Mattick for comments.

Gary Roth is the author of The Educated Underclass: Students and the Promise of Social Mobility (Pluto Press, 2019).