The legacy admissions system, which provides preferential treatment to the children and grandchildren of alumni, is a glaring example of how these universities perpetuate privilege. Institutions such as Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Stanford—universities that consistently rank among the top in the nation—have long utilized this practice to ensure that the doors to elite education remain open to those already within the circles of power. By admitting students with lesser academic qualifications solely because of their family connections, these schools continue a long tradition of insularity, effectively reserving spaces for the wealthy and well-connected. Despite growing opposition, including recent moves by California’s private colleges to ban legacy admissions, the practice remains a powerful force, locking out more qualified, diverse applicants and ensuring that the privileged maintain access to elite institutions.
In addition to these admissions practices, elite universities exert considerable influence on the political landscape. The recent revelations about their political spending—millions funneled into federal campaigns, overwhelmingly favoring Democratic candidates—highlight a disturbing trend. Universities like Harvard, Stanford, and Johns Hopkins are not neutral players in the policy arena; they are active participants in shaping the very policies that benefit their interests. Whether it’s lobbying for federal funding, securing advantageous tax policies, or influencing regulations related to higher education, these universities use their wealth to protect and expand their power. These schools are not just centers of academic pursuit—they are political players in their own right, using their financial clout to shape the policies that govern education, tax law, and more.
Beyond their influence in academia and politics, elite universities increasingly exert power over the very land on which they sit. In many cities, top-tier universities like Harvard, Stanford, Columbia, and the University of Chicago are not just educational institutions—they are economic and political powerhouses. With multi-billion-dollar endowments, these institutions often wield more financial clout than entire cities. They routinely expand their campuses, purchasing properties, and in some cases, entire neighborhoods, often displacing long-standing communities in the process. This process, commonly known as "university-led gentrification," transforms urban spaces, driving up property values and rents while pushing out lower-income residents.
Universities often justify their land acquisitions as part of their mission to expand their campuses, build new research centers, and offer more housing for students and faculty. However, the impact on local communities can be severe. In many cases, universities use their tax-exempt status to avoid paying property taxes on the land they acquire, depriving local governments of revenue while also claiming a disproportionate share of urban space. This allows them to grow their influence without contributing fully to the neighborhoods in which they are embedded.
This land-grabbing behavior has sparked resistance in cities across the country. In Boston, for example, Harvard and MIT have been critiqued for taking over large swaths of land in the Allston and Kendall Square neighborhoods, displacing low-income residents and local businesses. In New York, Columbia’s expansion into Harlem sparked protests from community members who felt their homes and livelihoods were being sacrificed to the university’s growth. In many cases, these universities lobby local governments to secure favorable zoning laws, tax breaks, and exemptions that allow them to build at will and maintain their growing empire.
Both legacy admissions and political donations underscore a fundamental truth: elite universities are not just educational institutions—they are institutions of power. They maintain an oligarchic structure that privileges those already in positions of wealth and influence, while shaping local economies and political systems to ensure their continued dominance. By hoarding access to elite education, they perpetuate a system in which the children of the wealthy have a head start in both education and society, while simultaneously lobbying for policies that further cement their own influence. Through their land acquisitions, gentrification, political donations, and admissions practices, these universities continue to consolidate their power, reinforcing an elitist status quo that leaves many outside looking in.
In all of this, university presidents have increasingly positioned themselves as moral arbiters, asserting their institutions’ commitment to social justice, inclusion, and equality. Yet this moral high ground becomes precarious when their administrations take extreme measures to suppress resistance. Protests against their policies—whether regarding gentrification, climate change, or labor rights—are often met with heavy-handed tactics. University leaders, eager to preserve their public image, have been known to deploy security forces, call in the police, or even collaborate with local governments to disband protests. In some cases, these universities have resorted to legal action against student and faculty activists, silencing dissent through threats of discipline, expulsion, or other punitive measures.
This duplicity becomes even more apparent when considering the moral stands many university leaders take in public, promoting inclusivity, diversity, and progressive values, while simultaneously suppressing those who challenge their institution’s power dynamics. In the face of mounting resistance from marginalized communities or student groups, these leaders prefer to maintain control over their campuses and public narratives, often using administrative power to quash any movements that may disrupt the status quo.
Yet, history has shown that even the most entrenched systems can change, and university presidents are not beyond the possibility of transformation. Just as some figures in the Bible experienced profound revelations that led them to change course and right their wrongs, university leaders, too, can have moments of reckoning. Consider the example of King David, whose heart was changed after his confrontation with the prophet Nathan over his sin (2 Samuel 12). David, once blinded by his own power, repented and chose a path of humility and righteousness. In the same way, university presidents, confronted by the voices of resistance, public outcry, or moral awakening, could choose to lead their institutions toward a more just and equitable future. In the New Testament, Saul’s conversion on the road to Damascus (Acts 9) serves as another powerful reminder that no one is beyond redemption. Saul, who once persecuted early Christians, was transformed into Paul, one of the most influential apostles in Christian history. Similarly, a university president could choose to recognize the harm their institution has caused and decide to enact transformative policies that benefit marginalized communities and dismantle the systems of privilege they have helped sustain.
Moses is another figure whose story exemplifies the power of divine revelation to shift course. As a prince of Egypt, Moses had everything at his disposal, yet he chose to stand up to Pharaoh when he recognized the injustice of the Hebrew people’s oppression. His moment of conviction led him to free his people from slavery, even though it required courage to defy a powerful ruler (Exodus 3-4). In the same way, a university president must stand up to the powerful trustees and donors who expect to maintain the status quo. To act in the face of such resistance requires profound moral courage—a willingness to lead against entrenched interests that protect wealth and privilege.
Another key figure in the Old Testament is Esther, who displayed extraordinary courage in a moment of great moral clarity. She risked her life by standing up to King Xerxes to save the Jewish people from annihilation (Esther 4). As the queen, she was in a powerful position, but it was only when she realized the enormity of the injustice at hand that she chose to act. Similarly, university presidents with the power to challenge the status quo can, like Esther, use their positions to advocate for justice and equality, even if it means confronting powerful forces that wish to preserve an unjust order.
As university presidents come face to face with the overwhelming issues of racism, injustice, and climate chaos, there exists the possibility of moral revelation—a turning point where they confront the gravity of their actions and their institutions’ role in perpetuating harm. The growing calls for racial justice, fueled by movements like Black Lives Matter, demand an acknowledgment of the systemic racism embedded in these universities. Whether through the disproportionate representation of wealthy white students or the stark inequities in faculty and leadership diversity, these institutions must reckon with their participation in racial oppression. Similarly, as the climate crisis deepens, universities’ investments in fossil fuels and their ongoing complicity in the destruction of the environment have become focal points for student activists and global environmental movements. Universities, often perceived as beacons of progress, have a responsibility to divest from industries contributing to ecological collapse and instead use their vast resources for environmental justice.
And yet, one of the greatest challenges these university leaders will face lies not only in the resistance of external forces like protestors, activists, and the general public, but also in the powerful trustees and donors who hold significant sway over the institutions’ direction. Many universities are closely tied to wealthy benefactors and influential trustees whose interests often align with maintaining the status quo—whether through preserving investment strategies, political stances, or traditional admissions processes. These figures are not simply investors in the university's future; they are powerful stakeholders with the resources to shape institutional policies and procedures, often with little regard for social justice or environmental responsibility.
For a university president to truly lead with courage and integrity, they must be willing to go against these powerful forces. This would require challenging the entrenched interests of those who have long benefited from an elite, exclusionary system and are reluctant to embrace the radical changes needed to address systemic injustice. It takes immense fortitude to stand up to trustees and donors who view universities as tools for preserving their wealth and influence, rather than forces for good in the world.
But university presidents who choose to go against these forces can become true moral leaders. They can take inspiration from figures like Moses, who boldly defied Pharaoh’s power to liberate the oppressed, or Esther, whose bravery in standing up to the king saved her people (Esther 4). In doing so, they would not only transform their institutions but also serve as examples of ethical leadership in a time when such leadership is sorely needed.
The courage to defy powerful donors and trustees would mark a dramatic shift in how elite universities operate. Presidents could, if they choose, champion a new vision—one where social justice, racial equality, and environmental sustainability are at the forefront of institutional priorities. Just as Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt toward a promised land of freedom, so too could university presidents lead their institutions out of the grip of elitism and corporate influence, steering them toward a more equitable and just future.
Both legacy admissions, political donations, land control, and the suppression of protest point to a deeper issue: elite universities have built themselves into institutions of unparalleled power. These universities operate not only as educational establishments but also as political and economic entities, constantly reinforcing a structure of privilege, wealth, and exclusion. The dissonance between their public declarations of moral authority and their actions to protect entrenched power reveals the true nature of these institutions. They are not the bastions of free inquiry and social good they often claim to be—they are powerful, self-interested players in a system that serves to preserve the very inequalities they profess to challenge.
However, the possibility remains that these institutions—guided by transformative leadership—could embrace a new path. University presidents could heed the call for justice, as many leaders in history have, and change the trajectory of their institutions, opting to lead in ways that promote true equity, racial justice, and environmental stewardship. These universities—once seen as places of learning and opportunity—could become what they claim to be: inclusive, just, and truly committed to the betterment of society. They are the architects of the future they seek to create: one where the privileged no longer remain firmly entrenched at the top, and where political, economic, and educational structures are reshaped for the common good. Whether through legacy admissions, political spending, land control, or suppressing protest, these institutions continue to consolidate their power, but with the right leadership, they can still pivot toward a more just future—one that embodies the values they espouse.
[Editor's note: This essay, written for elite university presidents, is intended as a rhetorical device rather than a statement of facts. We find that everyone has their own "mythology" or set of mythologies they follow. As with all our work, we value your feedback.]
In a time when higher education grapples with systemic challenges—rising tuition, debt burdens, underfunding, and institutional inertia—the Next System Teach-Ins emerge as a powerful catalyst for critical dialogue, community engagement, and transformative thinking.
Teach-ins have long functioned as dynamic forums that transcend mere lecturing, incorporating participatory dialogue and strategic action. The concept originated in March 1965 at the University of Michigan in direct protest of the Vietnam War; faculty and students stayed up all night, creating an intellectual and activist space that sparked over 100 similar events in that year alone.
This model evolved through the decades—fueling the environmental, civil rights, and anti-apartheid movements of the 1970s and 1980s, followed by the Democracy Teach-Ins of the 1990s which challenged corporate influence in universities and energized anti-sweatshop activism. Later waves during Occupy Wall Street and Black Lives Matter sustained teach-ins as a tool for inclusive dialogue and resistance.
Vision and Purpose
Launched in Spring 2016, the Next System Teach-Ins aimed to broaden public awareness of systemic alternatives to capitalism—ranging from worker cooperatives and community land trusts to decentralized energy systems and democratic public banking.
These teach-ins were designed not just as academic discussion forums but as launching pads for community-led action, connecting participants with toolkits, facilitation guides, ready-made curricula, and resources to design their own events.
Highlights of the Inaugural Wave
In early 2016, notable teach-ins took place across the U.S.—from Madison and New York City to Seattle and beyond. Participants explored pressing questions such as, “What comes after capitalism?” and “How can communities co-design alternatives that are just, sustainable, and democratic?”
These gatherings showcased a blend of plenaries, interactive workshops, radio segments, and “wall-to-wall” organizing strategies—mobilizing participants beyond attendee numbers into collective engagement.
Resources and Capacity Building
Organizers were provided with a wealth of support materials including modular curriculum, templates for publicity and RFPs, event agendas, speaker lists, and online infrastructure to manage RSVPs and share media.
The goal was dual: ignite a nationwide conversation on alternative systemic models, and encourage each teach-in host to aim for a specific local outcome—whether that be a campus campaign, curriculum integration, or forming ongoing community groups.
The Next System initiative has evolved. According to a May 2025 update from George Mason University’s Next System Studies, a new wave of Next System Teach-Ins is scheduled for November 1–16, 2025.
This iteration amplifies the original mission: confronting interconnected social, ecological, political, and economic crises by gathering diverse communities—on campuses, in union halls, or public spaces—to rethink, redesign, and rebuild toward a more equitable and sustainable future.
Teach-ins revitalize civic engagement on campus by reasserting higher education’s role as an engine of critical thought and imagination.
They integrate scholarship and practice, uniting theory with actionable strategies—from economic democracy to ecological regeneration—and enrich academic purpose with real-world relevance.
They also mobilize institutional infrastructure, offering student-led exploration of systemic change without requiring prohibitive resources.
By linking the global and the local, teach-ins equip universities to address both planetary crises and campus-specific challenges.
Most importantly, they trigger systemic dialogue, pushing past complacency and fostering a new generation of system-thinking leaders.
Host a Teach-In – Whether a focused film screening, interdisciplinary workshop, or full-scale weekend event, universities can leverage Next System resources to design context-sensitive, action-oriented programs.
Embed in Curriculum – The modular material—especially case studies on democratic economics, energy justice, or communal models—can integrate into courses in sociology, environmental studies, governance, and beyond.
Forge Community Partnerships – By extending beyond campus (to community centers, labor unions, public libraries), teach-ins expand access and deepen impact.
Contribute to a National Movement – University participation in the November 2025 wave positions institutions as active contributors to a growing ecosystem of systemic transformation.
The Next System Teach-Ins represent a bold experiment in higher education’s engagement with systemic change. Combining rich traditions of activism with pragmatic tools for contemporary challenges, these initiatives offer HEI a blueprint for meaningful civic education, collaborative inquiry, and institutional transformation.
As the 2025 wave approaches, universities have a timely opportunity to be centers of both reflection and action in building the next system we all need.
The Next System Project – Teach-Ins: https://thenextsystem.org/teach-ins
George Mason University – Next System Studies: https://nextsystem.gmu.edu/articles/22228
“Teach-in.” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teach-in
In prestigious universities across the country, the figurehead of the institution—the president—has become a symbol of frustration and resentment among students, faculty, and staff. These figures, often once revered as academic leaders, are increasingly viewed as little more than corporate CEOs, prioritizing the interests of wealthy trustees and donors over the very people who make the university what it is: the students and the dedicated faculty and staff who carry out its mission.
At the heart of the growing discontent is the trend of university presidents restricting freedom of speech and assembly, stifling student activism, and limiting open debate in the name of "campus safety" or "institutional stability." Instead of acting as advocates for open discourse, many university presidents have aligned themselves with powerful corporate interests, turning their backs on the very values that once defined higher education. The administration's agenda is often dictated by the whims of major donors, whose influence can shape everything from university policy to the hiring and firing of professors.
The University of Chicago, long a beacon of academic freedom, has seen its leadership take a hard turn in recent years, placing increasing restrictions on student demonstrations and dissent. Under the guise of maintaining "campus order," the administration has been known to deploy private security to break up protests and limit public forums for free speech.
Harvard University, with its enormous endowment and prestigious reputation, has become another example of an institution where the president seems more concerned with appeasing donors than listening to the students and faculty. The administration has been criticized for prioritizing relationships with donors over addressing the deepening student debt crisis and growing concerns about inequality in higher education. The university has faced a wave of student-led protests demanding action on climate change, affordable tuition, and the rights of adjunct faculty, all of which were largely ignored or dismissed by the top administration.
Harvard’s massive endowment—reportedly the largest of any university in the world—has been a focal point of controversy. While it continues to grow, many argue that the university could be doing far more to address the financial burdens of its students, particularly the mounting debt facing undergraduates. Instead, the administration has focused on expanding its brand and maintaining its status as an elite institution, often prioritizing donor preferences and legacy admissions over efforts to make education more accessible. Legacy admissions, in which children of alumni are given preferential treatment, have been a point of contention, with critics arguing that this practice entrenches privilege and reduces opportunities for marginalized students.
Even at places like Princeton University, long considered a champion of academic freedom, President Christopher Eisgruber has come under fire for clamping down on student speech and assembly. While Princeton’s administration claims to support free expression, it has quietly enacted policies to restrict protestors’ access to the administration building, citing concerns about “disruption” and “disorder.” Eisgruber, who has connections to powerful alumni, has been accused of using his position to protect the interests of wealthy donors while ignoring the voices of those who are most directly affected by the university's policies.
The University of Southern California (USC) is another prime example of a university where the president’s priorities have come under increasing scrutiny from students, faculty, and staff. Under President Carol Folt, USC has become emblematic of a trend where the administration appears more aligned with wealthy donors and corporate interests than with the needs of its campus community.
Folt, who took over as USC's president in 2019, was thrust into the spotlight during a period of significant unrest. The university had already been embroiled in scandals—including the high-profile college admissions bribery scandal—and was facing criticism for its handling of sexual assault allegations within its medical school. Rather than addressing these issues head-on, many argue that Folt’s administration focused instead on securing funding from high-profile donors and expanding the university’s brand, while sidelining the concerns of students and faculty.
This prioritization of external donors is evident in USC’s massive fundraising campaigns, which often overshadow initiatives aimed at addressing student debt, affordability, or academic freedom. USC's endowment has grown exponentially under Folt’s leadership, but student loan debt continues to be a crippling issue for many Trojans, and the concerns of adjunct faculty members remain largely ignored.
Furthermore, Folt’s administration has faced criticism for its efforts to suppress dissent on campus. For instance, student protests related to labor rights, housing issues, and calls for greater diversity on campus have been met with limited response or, at times, outright hostility. In 2022, when USC students protested the administration's handling of campus housing shortages, they were met with heightened security measures and a lack of genuine engagement from university leadership. These actions—along with Folt’s ties to the private sector, particularly her background in environmental policy and corporate leadership—have fueled perceptions that USC’s administration is more interested in protecting its brand than in creating an inclusive, participatory academic environment.
USC also exemplifies the growing disconnect between students, faculty, and administration when it comes to issues of free speech and assembly. Protests have become less frequent, as many students feel their voices will not be heard, and faculty members, particularly those in non-tenure track positions, are often too fearful of retribution to publicly criticize the administration.
The discontent with university leadership is not confined to the campus. In recent years, presidents from some of the nation's most elite institutions, including Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, have faced intense scrutiny and backlash during hearings in the U.S. House of Representatives. These public hearings, aimed at addressing the growing issues of student debt, university funding, and the influence of wealthy donors on campus, have highlighted the widening disconnect between top university administrations and the communities they are supposed to serve.
During a House hearing in 2022, Lawrence Bacow of Harvard, along with MIT's President L. Rafael Reif and Penn's President Amy Gutmann, faced tough questioning from lawmakers who were deeply critical of how these institutions have handled student debt, tuition costs, and their ties to corporate interests. Bacow, in particular, faced pointed questions about Harvard's massive endowment and the university's refusal to use its resources to address skyrocketing tuition and student loan debt. Both Reif and Gutmann were grilled on how their institutions have prioritized securing donations from wealthy alumni and corporate entities over the well-being of students and faculty. The hearing exposed a troubling pattern where the presidents of these prestigious institutions seemed more concerned with maintaining their institutions' financial health than with addressing the needs of their campus communities.
Legacy admissions, a practice entrenched at many of these elite schools, also came under fire during the hearings. Critics argued that such policies perpetuate inequality, giving children of alumni—many of whom come from wealthy backgrounds—unfair advantages in the admissions process. This has contributed to the growing perception that these universities, while claiming to offer merit-based opportunities, are fundamentally shaped by privilege and corporate interests.
These public confrontations highlighted the growing frustration with university presidents who are seen as out of touch with the everyday realities facing students and faculty, as well as the increasing influence of money and corporate interests in higher education. The presidents of these universities, once seen as respected leaders, have become targets of anger and resentment, with many on Capitol Hill and on campus calling for a shift in how these institutions are governed.
These are just a few examples of elite universities where the power structure has shifted toward those who have the financial means to dictate the terms of the campus experience. As tuition costs rise and student loan debt becomes a crushing burden for many, university presidents seem more determined than ever to serve the interests of trustees and donors, rather than advocating for the people who should be their true constituents: the students, faculty, and staff who make up the heart of the academic community.
The impact of this shift has been profound. On campuses across the country, students are increasingly feeling that their voices don’t matter. Faculty members, once seen as the intellectual core of the institution, are being sidelined in favor of administrators who prioritize financial concerns over academic integrity. And staff members—many of whom are underpaid and overworked—are being pushed to the margins as well.
But it’s not just students who are feeling the heat. Faculty and staff have found their own platforms for protest increasingly under attack. At places like Yale University, where former President Peter Salovey faced criticism for neglecting the needs of faculty and for his lukewarm responses to issues like labor rights and the treatment of graduate workers, professors staged walkouts and organized petitions to voice their discontent with the administration's disregard for their well-being.
In this new era, university presidents are no longer the beloved leaders of intellectual discourse—they are the gatekeepers of corporate power, more concerned with securing funding from wealthy donors than with fostering an inclusive, open, and critical academic environment. The fallout from this shift is only growing, as campuses become hotbeds of dissent, with students, faculty, and staff increasingly questioning the direction of higher education and the people at the helm.
As the divide between administration and the campus community continues to widen, one thing is clear: the once-admired university president is now among the most hated figures on campus, seen not as a champion of academic values, but as an enforcer of an increasingly political and profit-driven agenda.
Our devotion to transparency, accountability, and value for our readers guides us.
We invite a diverse group of guest authors who are willing to share their truths. The list includes academics from various disciplines, advocates, activists, journalists, consultants, and whistleblowers. We back up all of this work with data and critical analysis, irrespective of politics and social conventions. We are willing to challenge the higher education establishment, including trustees, donors, and university presidents.
Our articles covering student loan debt, academic labor, nonviolent methods of protest, and freedom of speech are unparalleled. And we are unafraid about including other issues that matter to our readers, including stories and videos about mental health, student safety, technology (such as artificial intelligence), academic cheating, and the nature of work. And matters of war, peace, democracy, and climate change.
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Some of our work takes years to produce, through careful documentation of primary and secondary sources, database analysis, and Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests. We share all of this information for everyone to see at no cost.
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Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu stated this week that “there is no starvation in Palestine,” contradicting extensive reporting from international aid organizations documenting famine conditions and lethal attacks on civilians at food distribution sites in Gaza.
A May 2025 report by the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC), a United Nations-supported initiative, found that over 70 percent of Gaza’s population was experiencing catastrophic food insecurity. Nearly 30 percent of children under the age of five were acutely malnourished. The World Food Programme has labeled the crisis a "man-made famine."
On July 20, Doctors Without Borders reported that a drone strike hit near its food and medical site in Khan Younis, killing nine civilians, including three children.
On July 24, the Palestinian Red Crescent Society reported that at least 15 civilians were killed when Israeli forces opened fire near an aid distribution point in Gaza City. The United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) confirmed the death of one of its staff members in the incident.
Despite these conditions, Netanyahu has denied the existence of starvation, and the U.S. government has continued its military and diplomatic support. The United States provides approximately $3.8 billion annually in military aid to Israel, and U.S.-manufactured weapons have been linked to attacks on aid sites. The U.S. has also vetoed or blocked three United Nations Security Council resolutions since October 2023 aimed at enforcing ceasefires or expanding humanitarian access.
Meanwhile, suppression of speech and surveillance on U.S. campuses has escalated. Across dozens of universities, students and faculty who have spoken out against the war in Gaza or criticized U.S. and Israeli policies have faced disciplinary action, police monitoring, and digital surveillance. Peaceful protests and teach-ins have been met with administrative crackdowns, restrictions on student group activities, and, in some cases, expulsions.
At several campuses, private security firms with ties to law enforcement and intelligence agencies have been contracted to monitor student activism. Surveillance tools, including facial recognition and social media tracking software, have been used to identify and target protesters. In many cases, these efforts have been carried out with little or no oversight.
Faculty members who have criticized U.S. foreign policy or supported Palestinian rights have reported threats to job security and tenure, especially in public institutions receiving defense-related research funding. Some have been the targets of smear campaigns and blacklists promoted by outside organizations.
At least 24 U.S. universities maintain partnerships or research contracts with defense contractors such as Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, and General Dynamics—companies whose weapons systems are deployed in Gaza. This financial entanglement has made many administrations unwilling to permit open debate, let alone challenge the broader militarization of U.S. higher education.
These repressive measures raise fundamental questions about the role of the university in a democratic society. When criticism of state violence is policed, and protest against war is surveilled, the campus ceases to function as a space of inquiry and dissent. It becomes, instead, an extension of the national security state.
As civilians are killed while waiting for food and as children die of hunger and infection, the U.S. government and its educational institutions remain enmeshed in systems of silence, denial, and complicity. The suppression of free speech on campus is not peripheral to this crisis—it is part of it.
Sources:
UNRWA Situation Reports, July 2025
World Food Programme Emergency Updates
Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC), May 2025
Palestinian Red Crescent Society, July 2025
Médecins Sans Frontières Field Reports
World Health Organization, Gaza Emergency Briefings
UNICEF Gaza Nutrition Data, July 2025
U.S. State Department Foreign Military Financing Budget, 2024–2025
UN Security Council Voting Records, 2023–2025
Coalition for Civil Freedoms Campus Speech Tracker
Higher Education Inquirer archives on university-defense contractor ties
In an era defined by rapid technological change, globalization, and economic precarity, the promise of higher education as a reliable path to social mobility is being questioned around the world. At the heart of this reckoning are two interrelated forces: credentialism and credential inflation. Together, they have helped fuel a crisis of discontent that spans continents, demographics, and generations.
Credentialism refers to the increasing reliance on educational qualifications—often formal degrees or certificates—as a measure of skill, value, and worth in the labor market. What was once a gateway to opportunity has, for many, become a gatekeeper.
In countries as diverse as the United States, Nigeria, South Korea, and Brazil, employers increasingly demand college degrees for jobs that previously required only a high school diploma or no formal education at all. These “degree requirements” often serve more as filters than as real indicators of competence. In the U.S., for example, nearly two-thirds of new jobs require a college degree, yet only around 38% of the adult population holds one. This creates a built-in exclusionary mechanism that hits working-class, first-generation, and minority populations hardest.
As more people earn degrees in hopes of improving their employment prospects, the relative value of those credentials declines—a phenomenon known as credential inflation. Where a bachelor’s degree once opened doors to managerial or professional roles, it now often leads to underemployment or precarious gig work. In response, students seek advanced degrees, fueling a “credential arms race” with diminishing returns.
In India and China, massive expansions of higher education have led to millions of graduates chasing a finite number of white-collar jobs. In places like Egypt, university graduates have higher unemployment rates than those with only a secondary education. In South Korea, a hyper-competitive education culture pushes students through years of tutoring and testing, only to graduate into a job market with limited high-status roles.
Few stories illustrate the devastating impact of credentialism and mass youth unemployment more than that of Mohammed Bouazizi, a 26-year-old Tunisian university graduate whose life and death sparked a revolution.
Unable to find formal employment, Bouazizi resorted to selling fruit and vegetables illegally in the town of Sidi Bouzid. In December 2010, after police confiscated his produce for lacking a permit, he set himself on fire in front of a local government building in a final act of desperation.
Bouazizi succumbed to his injuries weeks later, but not before igniting a firestorm of protests across Tunisia. His self-immolation became the catalyst for mass demonstrations against economic injustice, corruption, and authoritarianism—culminating in the Tunisian Revolution and inspiring uprisings throughout the Arab world.
At his funeral, an estimated 5,000 mourners marched, chanting: “Farewell, Mohammed, we will avenge you.” Bouazizi’s uncle said, “Mohammed gave his life to draw attention to his condition and that of his brothers.”
His act was not just a protest against police abuse, but a powerful indictment of a system that had produced thousands of educated but unemployed young people, whose degrees had become symbols of broken promises.
This dynamic of broken promises and rising discontent is global. In China, the “lying flat” movement reflects a rejection of endless striving in a system that offers diminishing returns on educational achievement. In South Korea, the “N-po” generation has opted out of traditional life goals, seeing little reward for their academic sacrifices.
In the U.S., distrust in higher education is mounting, with many questioning whether the cost of a degree is worth it. At the same time, a growing number of companies are dropping degree requirements altogether in favor of skills-based hiring.
Yet these moves often come too late for millions already trapped in a debt-fueled system, forced to chase credentials just to qualify for basic employment.
As automation and AI disrupt industries, the link between formal education and stable employment continues to fray. Policymakers call for "lifelong learning" and “upskilling,” but these strategies often place the burden back on workers without addressing the deeper failures of economic and educational systems.
To move forward, we must consider:
Decoupling jobs from unnecessary credential requirements
Investing in vocational and technical education with real career pathways
Recognizing nontraditional forms of knowledge and skill
Reframing education as a public good, not a consumer transaction
Mohammed Bouazizi's story is a tragic reminder that the crisis of credentialism is not theoretical—it’s lived, felt, and fought over in the streets. Around the world, millions of young people feel abandoned by systems that promised opportunity but delivered anxiety, debt, and instability.
Unless global societies reimagine the relationship between education, work, and human dignity, the "degrees of discontent" will only continue to deepen. And as Bouazizi’s legacy shows, discontent—when ignored—can become revolutionary.
BBC News. “Tunisia suicide protester Mohammed Bouazizi dies.” January 5, 2011. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-12120228
Pew Research Center. “Public Trust in Higher Education is Eroding.” August 2023.
Brown, Phillip. The Global Auction: The Broken Promises of Education, Jobs, and Incomes. Oxford University Press, 2011.
Marginson, Simon. “The Worldwide Trend to High Participation Higher Education: Dynamics of Social Stratification in Inclusive Systems.” Higher Education, 2016.
The World Bank. “Education and the Labor Market.”
The Guardian. “Lying Flat: China's Youth Protest Culture Grows.” June 2021.
Korea Herald. “'N-po Generation' Gives Up on Marriage, Children, and More.” October 2022.
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Weingarten breaks it down: New tariffs create chaos
Since 1970, Indigenous people & their allies have gathered at noon on Cole's Hill in Plymouth to commemorate a National Day of Mourning on the US Thanksgiving holiday. Many Native people do not celebrate the arrival of the Pilgrims & other European settlers. Thanksgiving Day is a reminder of the genocide of millions of Native people, the theft of Native lands and the erasure of Native cultures. Participants in National Day of Mourning honor Indigenous ancestors and Native resilience. It is a day of remembrance and spiritual connection, as well as a protest against the racism and oppression that Indigenous people continue to experience worldwide.
Join us as we continue to create a true awareness of Native peoples and history. Help shatter the untrue image of the Pilgrims, and the unjust system based on white supremacy, settler colonialism, sexism, homophobia and the profit-driven destruction of the Earth that they and other European settlers introduced to these shores.
According to the LA Times, students at Cal Berkeley, San Jose State, San
Francisco State, and the University of San Francisco plan to
hold coordinated protests on their campuses tomorrow. These actions are a continuation of this year's earlier protests against Israel's atrocities against Palestinians in Gaza--which have been backed by the United States, through arms deals and federal funding.
With the US-backed genocide expanding to the West Bank and Southern Lebanon, there will certainly be student resistance despite administrative and police efforts to make campus occupations and other forms of protest (even free speech and freedom of assembly) difficult.
The greatest threat so far from these protests has been to the reputations of elite universities and their endowments, rather than to campus safety. And the greatest perceived threat to administrators is that students and their allies have the imagination to resist in novel ways--without violence.
Students have already gained partial victories with a handful of universities
which have offered to review investment strategies complicit with genocide. These progressive schools include Brown University and San Francisco State. At the University of Michigan, pro-Palestinian students organized as the Shut it Down Party have won student elections.
Coordinated and Secret Crackdowns
The crackdown measures that schools have already made to reduce free speech and other freedoms, and to stoke fear, are too numerous to list. Some of these measures, like increased surveillance are not even known by students, faculty, staff, and community folks. Just understanding that secret mass surveillance is possible helps administrators who want to quell good trouble.
What are the real threats to campus safety?
We hope these protests (and any other actions) will be nonviolent and have published a list of nonviolent methods for resistance as a starting point for discussion. Violence is not a good excuse even in crackdowns of this type, and it's a losing strategy for all sides--other than the right wing--who want chaos and hope to bait others. It takes great planning, discipline, and strategy not to take the bait. At the same time, we hope campus administrators will take the problems of sexual assault, hate crimes and other forms of violence, as well as the threats of mass shootings, more seriously than they have.
Related links:
Democratic Protests on Campus: Modeling the Better World We Seek (Annelise Orleck)
Methods of Student Nonviolent Resistance
Wikipedia Community Documents Pro-Palestinian Protests on University and College Campuses
Dangerous Spaces: Sexual Assault and Other Forms of Violence On and Off Campus
One Fascism or Two?: The Reemergence of "Fascism(s)" in US Higher Education
A People's History of Higher Education in the US?
