Join Robert Reich for a free live watchalong of The Last Class (Elliot Kirschner and Heather Lofthouse)

 

Forwarded this email? Subscribe here for more Join Robert Reich for a free live watchalong of The Last Class Coming Monday, December 8 Elliot Kirschner and Heather Lofthouse Nov 24   READ IN APP   Dear friends, The Last Class continues to be shown across the country with people watching it in person, in community, and in theaters. It’s being shown on screens in 47 states and in Canada! By January we will be in all 50 states, thanks to you! So, we’re excited to offer a one-time-only live online watchalong of the film — Monday, December 8 at 5:30 pm PT / 8:30 pm ET — with Prof. Reich joining us to speak before and after the film, and provide some commentary while it plays. If you haven’t already seen The Last Class, the illuminating film about Robert Reich’s final semester of teaching (or even if you have), gather with friends for this special one-of-a-kind event! Sign up for the watchalong now here, or by clicking this orange button: Sign Up For The Watchalong Here We continue to prioritize in-person screenings, thrilled that the film is bringing people together. Later next year, we plan to offer the film online via “video on demand” and hopefully a streaming service. Here’s what you need to know: The watchalong is Monday, December 8 at 5:30 pm PT / 8:30 pm ET. When you sign up you will be added to a special watchalong email list. The morning of Monday, December 8, you will receive an email with a YouTube link. At 5:30 pm PT/ 8:30 pm ET this link will go live with Prof. Reich, Heather, and Elliot. Bob, Heather, and Elliot will offer some live commentary during the film (71 mins). A short Q&A will follow. When the event ends, the link for the film will no longer be watchable. Signing up for the watchalong is FREE. But for those that can afford it, we will offer the opportunity to donate so that the film can be shared more widely. Additional information: This is a LIVE event, so there will be no ability to pause or rewind the film while watching, sort of like television was in the olden days. If you sign up within an hour of the start time, your confirmation email will redirect you to the live YouTube link. The RSVP page will close 15 minutes after the film starts (5:45 pm PT), but the YouTube link will be live and accessible the whole time. Please share this email or the signup link with others. There is no cap on total viewers and we hope to see as many of you as possible. If you want us to answer a specific question about the film during the watchalong, you can start by adding your thoughts to the comments section below. Sign Up For The Watchalong Here Hope to see you on December 8th, Elliot and Heather

College Graduates Now Make Up a Record 25% of the Unemployed in the United States

Americans with four-year college degrees now represent a record share of total U.S. unemployment, signaling a sharp slowdown in white-collar hiring and a worsening job market for recent graduates.

According to newly released data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the unemployment rate for adults aged 25 and older with at least a bachelor’s degree rose to 2.8% in September 2025, up 0.5 percentage points from the previous year. No other educational attainment group saw a comparable increase during the same period.

In total, more than 1.9 million college-educated Americans were unemployed in September. This marks the first time since the BLS began tracking the metric in 1992 that college graduates have comprised 25% of the nation’s unemployed workers—a historically high proportion that reflects both slowing hiring and a nationwide glut of degree holders competing for fewer professional roles.

Economists warn that the trend is linked to deeper structural shifts in the U.S. labor market. Michael Feroli, chief U.S. economist at JPMorgan Chase & Co., said the surge “should further fuel AI-related job loss fears,” pointing to automation’s accelerating impact on administrative, professional, and entry-level analytical positions.

Federal Reserve Bank of New York President John Williams, speaking in Santiago, Chile, described the current cohort of graduates as facing “a bit of a perfect storm.” In a typical labor cycle, he noted, new graduates “are being swept into the labor market as they get out of college,” but that pattern has broken down this year.

The data also coincide with a wave of high-profile layoff announcements from major corporations—including Amazon, Target, and Starbucks—which have trimmed thousands of jobs across corporate, tech, and retail-management roles.

Before 2025, the share of unemployed workers with at least a bachelor’s degree had never reached this level, underscoring the challenges facing a generation encouraged to pursue higher education as the safest path to economic stability. The new numbers suggest that, for many, the labor market reality is falling far short of that promise.

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Sources

U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics
Bloomberg News reporting on September 2025 unemployment data
Remarks by Michael Feroli, JPMorgan Chase & Co.
Remarks by John Williams, President, Federal Reserve Bank of New York
Corporate layoff announcements from Amazon, Target, and Starbucks

ED FOIA regarding Thompson Coburn Law Firm (26-00709-F)

The Higher Education Inquirer is requesting any and all email correspondence between the US Department of Education and the Thompson Coburn Law Firm from January 6, 2025 to November 24, 2025. 

We are particularly interested in the following areas related to higher education:

Gainful Employment
Bare Minimum Rule
Borrower Defense to Repayment
Student Loan Forgiveness
Title IX
False Claims Act
Federal Funding Freeze Litigation
DEI Executive Orders Litigation, the Dear Colleague Letter Litigation, and DOJ’s July 2025 Guidance on Unlawful Discrimination
Executive Order 14242 Directing the Closure of ED
Grant Termination
Rate Cap Policy Litigation
Student and Exchange Visitor Program Litigation
Legality of Nationwide Injunctions
Program Participation Agreement Signatory Litigation

Related link:

Defenders of the Higher Ed Business: How Lawyers Shield a Broken Industry

“How to Survive, Not Thrive”: The Chronicle’s Misleading Advice to Adjuncts

The Chronicle of Higher Education recently published Erik Ofgang’s piece, “How to Thrive as an Adjunct Professor.” The article is framed as practical guidance from one contingent faculty member to others — a survival manual for the academe’s most disposable workers. But the framing itself is the problem. The Chronicle is not a neutral outlet dispensing helpful tips. It is an institution firmly embedded in the higher-ed Establishment, and its editorial choices reflect the interests of those who run that Establishment.

The suggestion that adjuncts can “thrive” is not merely optimistic; it is ideological. It normalizes a labor system built on underpayment, instability, and silent suffering. It helps institutions maintain a two-tier caste system in which tenure-line faculty enjoy stability, voice, and benefits, while adjuncts scramble semester-to-semester without a guarantee of renewed employment or even basic respect.

The Chronicle’s article treats precarity as a lifestyle challenge rather than a structural failure. That framing deflects attention away from institutional responsibility. The reason adjuncts have to piece together multiple jobs, endure last-minute course assignments, and live without healthcare is not that they lack good strategies. It is because universities — including the ones that proudly subscribe to the Chronicle — have chosen to replace stable academic jobs with contingent, low-paid labor.

Turning exploitation into a self-help genre is a subtle form of gaslighting. Instead of pressuring institutions to create full-time positions, support collective bargaining, or reduce administrative bloat, the Chronicle encourages adjuncts to “adapt” and “manage” their conditions. Resilience becomes a substitute for rights. Coping becomes a substitute for reform. The system remains untouched.

The omissions in the Chronicle’s piece are revealing. There is no mention of organizing, even as adjuncts across the country unionize in record numbers. There is no scrutiny of universities’ vast expenditures on athletics, luxury facilities, and administrative expansion. There is no questioning of the billion-dollar endowments that coexist with poverty-level adjunct wages. Instead, the Chronicle defaults to the safest possible narrative: individuals should adjust; institutions should not.

This is not accidental. The Chronicle’s core readership includes the provosts, deans, trustees, and HR architects who built the adjunct system. It is financially and culturally aligned with the sector’s leadership. Its survival depends on not alienating them. That alignment shapes what it chooses to publish — and what it chooses not to. Pieces that counsel adjuncts to quietly endure their exploitation are palatable to the Establishment. Pieces that call out structural injustice are not.

Adjunctification is not an unfortunate side effect of financial pressures. It is a deliberate strategy to reduce labor costs and weaken faculty power. It is part of a decades-long reorganization of higher education around managerial priorities and corporate values. Any article that ignores these realities in favor of “tips” is engaging in misdirection.

In truth, adjuncts don’t need advice on how to “thrive.” They need living wages, multiyear contracts, healthcare, respect, and a seat at the table. They need a labor system that recognizes teaching as the core mission of higher education rather than a cost center to be minimized. They need the kind of systemic change that the Chronicle rarely demands — because demanding it would mean criticizing the very institutions that sustain the Chronicle’s prestige and its business model.

The Chronicle’s soft-pedaled advice is not harmless. It is part of the ideological infrastructure that protects the higher-education status quo. If the sector is ever to become less exploitative, those who report on it must stop reassuring adjuncts that survival is a form of success and start holding institutions accountable for creating the conditions adjuncts are forced to endure.

HEI exists precisely because the mainstream higher-ed press will not.

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Sources

Erik Ofgang, “How to Thrive as an Adjunct Professor,” Chronicle of Higher Education, Nov. 6, 2025.
American Association of University Professors (AAUP). Data Snapshot: Contingent Faculty in US Higher Ed.
Marc Bousquet, How the University Works: Higher Education and the Low-Wage Nation (NYU Press, 2008).
Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed: The Troubling Rise of For-Profit Colleges (2017).
Gary Rhoades, “Managed Professionals: Unionized Faculty and Restructuring Academic Labor” (SUNY Press, 1998).
Claire Goldstene, The Struggle for the Soul of Higher Education (2015).
Devarian Baldwin, In the Shadow of the Ivory Tower (2021).

The Mis-education of Global Elites

For generations, global elites have been positioned—socially, politically, financially—as the people best equipped to shape a better world. They have had the resources to eliminate poverty, curb climate catastrophe, restrain war, expand healthcare, reform universities, and make democratic participation meaningful. Instead, the world they have built is defined by widening inequality, ecological collapse, and a global crisis of legitimacy. Their failure is not accidental. It is the product of a profound mis-education: a system that trains elites not in stewardship or solidarity, but in domination, extraction, and self-preservation.

Across the United States, the U.K., Europe, and increasingly the Gulf States and East Asia, elite education has become a finishing school for rulers rather than a training ground for genuine public servants. These institutions—rich in endowment, selective in admission, steeped in prestige—construct worldviews that normalize inequity as efficiency, privatization as innovation, and austerity as necessity. Instead of interrogating the historical and structural forces that produce suffering, elite curricula often neutralize them, reducing political economy to management science and social justice to branding.

This mis-education manifests in global leadership failures. The same graduates who enter parliaments, presidential cabinets, central banks, multinational boards, and international NGOs routinely oversee policies that accelerate inequality and erode the public sphere. Many come from universities with unparalleled research capacity and moral rhetoric, yet preside over housing crises, medical debt catastrophes, and planetary degradation. They authorize wars but rarely experience them. They tout meritocracy while gatekeeping opportunity. They celebrate entrepreneurship while dismantling public goods. Their philanthropic initiatives—often built from profits derived through tax avoidance, monopolization, and labor exploitation—give the appearance of benevolence without altering the underlying systems of harm.

Carter G. Woodson’s warning in The Mis-education of the Negro echoes eerily here: “When you control a man's thinking you do not have to worry about his actions.” Global elites, educated into a narrow ideology that glorifies markets and hierarchy, do not need to be coerced into maintaining destructive systems—they do so voluntarily, believing themselves enlightened.

Nowhere is this clearer than in the corporate education complex itself. Elite universities produce the analysts who rationalize austerity, the managers who coordinate privatization, the consultants who reengineer public institutions to mimic corporations, and the financiers who define the metrics of success. They also cultivate the ideological insulation that shields elites from accountability. When their policies trigger chaos, the explanation is never structural, only technical: markets corrected, externalities emerged, populists disrupted stability. The mis-education of elites ensures they cannot see failure as their own.

Global institutions—from the IMF and World Bank to the UN and WTO—have mirrored this mindset. Their leaders, mostly trained in the same corridors of prestige, have promoted development models that prioritize capital mobility over community well-being, and foreign investment over local sovereignty. Even when faced with overwhelming evidence that structural adjustment, privatized healthcare, or financialization intensify human suffering, the elite worldview persists. The inability—or unwillingness—to imagine alternative systems is not an intellectual deficiency but the logical outcome of an education designed to reproduce power, not challenge it.

Meanwhile, those most affected by global crises—workers, migrants, debtors, students, the poor—are told to adapt, innovate, or sacrifice. They are bombarded with entrepreneurial rhetoric and resilience talk while their material conditions worsen. Political leaders lament social fragmentation but continue to funnel wealth upward. University administrators speak of inclusion while expanding administrative hierarchies and outsourcing labor. Energy executives promise transitions while drilling new pipelines. Tech CEOs warn about misinformation while building the infrastructure that spreads it.

The result is a world where the legitimacy of elites is evaporating. From Santiago to Paris, Lagos to Minneapolis, Delhi to London, mass movements are demanding accountability from institutions that have proven incapable of self-reform. The global backlash against inequality, authoritarianism, and corporate hegemony is not a misunderstanding—it is a recognition that the systems run by elites have failed.

If there is to be a better world, the mis-education of elites must be confronted directly. That means transforming the mission of universities from prestige accumulation to public purpose; replacing managerialism with democratic governance; centering histories of resistance rather than merely histories of empire; teaching economic justice instead of market worship; and training leaders who measure success not by shareholder value or rankings but by human flourishing.

Elites have long claimed exclusive expertise in solving the world’s problems. They have had centuries—and trillions—to prove it. They have failed miserably. A new generation of thinkers, activists, workers, and communities is already building the alternatives. Whether global elites choose to learn from them—or continue along their well-worn path of extraction and denial—will determine the next century.

For now, the record is clear: the institutions that shaped the world’s most powerful people were never designed to create justice. And they haven’t.

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Academic Sources

Baldwin, Davarian L. In the Shadow of the Ivory Tower: How Universities Are Plundering Our Cities. Bold Type Books, 2021.
Bourdieu, Pierre. The State Nobility: Elite Schools in the Field of Power. Stanford University Press, 1996.
Giroux, Henry A. Neoliberalism's War on Higher Education. Haymarket Books, 2014.
Harvey, David. A Brief History of Neoliberalism. Oxford University Press, 2005.
Khan, Shamus Rahman. Privilege: The Making of an Adolescent Elite at St. Paul’s School. Princeton University Press, 2011.
Mills, C. Wright. The Power Elite. Oxford University Press, 1956.
Mkandawire, Thandika. “Institutional Monocropping and Monotasking in Africa.” UNRISD, 2007.
Piketty, Thomas. Capital and Ideology. Harvard University Press, 2020.
Saul, John Ralston. Voltaire’s Bastards: The Dictatorship of Reason in the West. Free Press, 1992.
Sklair, Leslie. The Transnational Capitalist Class. Wiley-Blackwell, 2000.
Stiglitz, Joseph E. Globalization and Its Discontents Revisited. W.W. Norton, 2017.
Woodson, Carter G. The Mis-education of the Negro. Associated Publishers, 1933.

PXED Throws US Department of Education Under the Bus Regarding Enrollment Fraud

[Editor's note: The Higher Education Inquirer has requested all Department of Education correspondence related to "unusual" or "suspicious" enrollment regarding the University of Phoenix.]   

Phoenix Education Partners (PXED), parent company of the University of Phoenix, used its latest earnings call to advance a familiar narrative: when things go wrong, blame the U.S. Department of Education. This time, CEO Chris Lynne positioned ED as the primary culprit behind the suspicious-enrollment surge that distorted PXED’s numbers over the past year.

The exchange began when Goldman Sachs analyst George Tong asked the question PXED tried to sidestep throughout its IPO process: How much of PXED’s slowing FY2026 enrollment growth is due to fraud controls, and how much of it is due to friction created for legitimate students? And, crucially, what prevents these distortions from resurfacing in the next cycle?

Lynne offered no numbers. Instead, he pivoted to a sweeping explanation of PXED’s “advanced algorithms” and internal control systems—systems so forceful that they immediately block applicants once certain thresholds are hit, even when PXED cannot determine whether they’ve flagged a real student or a bad actor.

But once the CEO finished describing these internal measures, he returned to the real point he wanted to deliver to Wall Street: this is the Department of Education’s fault, not PXED’s.

According to Lynne, the “root” cause was a breakdown in ED’s identity-verification controls tied to the troubled rollout of the new FAFSA. The Department “publicly acknowledged” the failure, Lynne said, and PXED executives met with ED in September to confirm that the government finally has “a good handle on this.” In Lynne’s telling, PXED is the responsible party cleaning up a federal mess.

What this framing ignores is everything that came before. PXED and its predecessor, the University of Phoenix, have long histories of enrollment-integrity problems that predate the FAFSA meltdown by more than a decade. When Lynne says his algorithms “cleaned up” the funnel after being moved to the top of the application process, what he really means is that PXED used its own filters—its own black-box controls—to decide which students were worth staff time and which were not.

And PXED quietly admitted the cost. The verification loops and algorithmic filters caught many real students, blocking or delaying their enrollment and layering additional obstacles onto people who already face the steepest barriers in higher education. Lynne dismissed this as mere “friction”—a small price to pay for cleaner numbers.

But the larger problem is structural. For-profit systems built on volume rely on conversions, throughput, and funnel efficiency. When that model is threatened, the instinct is not to repair student-facing systems—it's to blame the government, tighten internal controls, and preserve the revenue pipeline. PXED’s decision to throw ED under the bus fits that pattern exactly.

The real story isn’t that the Department of Education made serious mistakes in rolling out the new FAFSA—mistakes it has acknowledged. The real story is how quickly companies like PXED use those failures as a shield, deflecting accountability for their own long-standing recruitment practices and quietly punishing the very students they claim to serve.

What America’s Declining Happiness Means — and How Higher Education Fits In

A recent report has sounded an alarm: happiness in the United States is falling more sharply than in almost every other developed nation. According to coverage by CBS News, Americans increasingly report loneliness, deep political division, and diminished life satisfaction. While this trend is worrying in itself, a closer look shows that it’s not just a problem of individual melancholy — it reflects a broader weakening of social structures, civic trust, and community cohesion. Historically, these phenomena have been central to the nation’s sense of coherence; now, they may be eroding.

Historical Roots and the Social Capital Framework

To understand the scale of what’s happening, it helps to go back. Over two decades ago, Robert D. Putnam’s seminal Bowling Alone documented a dramatic decline in American “social capital” — the network of associations, civic participation, and interpersonal trust that undergirds a functioning democracy. Putnam traced declines in everything from civic organizations to informal social gatherings, arguing that this fraying of social infrastructure had profound consequences. 

Social capital theory provides a useful lens here: trust between citizens, engagement in local institutions, and time spent in shared civic life are not just feel‑good extras, but foundations for collective resilience.

Later empirical work has revisited these concerns. Weiss, Paxton, Velasco, and Ressler (2018) developed a newer measure of social capital and found evidence that the decline persists. Inequality also appears to play a role: as income gaps widen, interpersonal trust tends to decrease. In research published in Finance & Development, economists found that rising inequality explained a substantial portion of the decline in social trust in the United States.

More recently, political scientists have documented how perceived political polarization erodes social trust. In a nationally representative panel study, Amber Hye‑Yon Lee showed that when people believe their country is deeply divided, their trust in fellow citizens drops — even beyond partisan loyalties. Pew Research Center data further illustrate this generational shift: younger cohorts, raised in a more polarized and atomized society, report lower social trust than earlier generations. 

At the same time, the digital revolution hasn’t necessarily filled the gap. Sabatini and Sarracino (2014) found that while people are more active on social media, this does not compensate for lost in-person connection — and may even undermine trust. During the COVID-19 pandemic, researchers observed increased remote communication, but also stronger political echo chambers: in a study of 41,000 Americans’ social networks, political homophily (interacting mostly with those who share one’s partisan identity) increased. 

Well-Being, Health, and Mortality

The decline in social trust and cohesion is not just a sociological problem — it is deeply linked to health. A growing body of epidemiological research ties subjective well‑being to longevity and mortality. For instance, a widely cited study by Lawrence, Rogers, and Wadsworth found that lower happiness is associated with higher all‑cause mortality risk in U.S. adults. In another longitudinal study, researchers followed more than 30,000 adults over 14 years and found that individuals with low life satisfaction lived, on average, 8–10 years less than those with high satisfaction — even after controlling for sociodemographic and behavioral variables. 

These findings suggest that declining happiness is not just a matter of mental distress or cultural malaise — it translates into concrete health inequities and life expectancy gaps.

Recent Trends and the Global Context

Over the past decade, the United States has slid in global happiness rankings, according to the World Happiness Report. Some analyses suggest that the U.S. now falls behind peer nations on measures of life evaluation, meaning that Americans are increasingly less satisfied with their lives in a broad, reflective sense. 

Meanwhile, epidemiological studies of happy life expectancy — the number of years people spend in a state of subjective well‑being — show that although well-being improved from 1970–2000, gains were uneven by race and gender. The recent reversal or stagnation in happiness is thus especially alarming in light of these prior gains.

The Role of Higher Education: Past, Present, and Potential Futures

Given this historical and empirical context, higher education institutions have a complex and potentially pivotal role in responding to declining well-being.

On one hand, universities could help rebuild social capital. Institutions of higher learning have unique capacity to foster cross-partisan civic engagement, to embed community-building in pedagogy, and to support students’ social and emotional development. By investing in mental health infrastructure, peer networks, and service-based learning, colleges could act as local laboratories for restoring trust and social cohesion.

Higher education also has a research function: universities can produce evidence about what strengthens well-being, what interventions mitigate loneliness or political fragmentation, and how different models of community engagement impact long-term health outcomes. Through partnerships with public policy institutions, universities can help translate these findings into programs that bolster social infrastructure outside campus walls.

However, higher education also runs risks. If institutions remain fragmented, politically polarized, or focused on prestige rather than public mission, they may contribute to social fragmentation rather than healing it. Elite universities, in particular, may be perceived as disconnected from broader communities, undermining trust rather than reinforcing it. In such a scenario, higher education may reproduce the very inequalities and isolation that are driving declining well‑being.

Moreover, without deliberate strategies, campus networks may reinforce echo chambers: social connections among students may mirror broader partisan divides, especially in environments where political homogeneity is common.

Health Equity Implications

The decline in American happiness intersects directly with issues of health equity. Lower well-being and eroded trust disproportionately affect marginalized communities — those with fewer economic resources, less social support, and weaker civic infrastructure. When universities take an active role in promoting well-being and rebuilding social capital, they not only support individual students but may contribute to reducing structural health disparities.

Conversely, if higher education plays a passive role, or if access to supportive, socially rich campus environments is limited to privileged groups, the decline in happiness may deepen existing inequities. The gap in life expectancy tied to subjective well-being suggests that we cannot ignore the social determinants of happiness: economic inequality, community fragmentation, political polarization, and institutional trust all matter.

A Call to Action

To address this crisis, higher education leaders, policymakers, and public health practitioners should consider the following:

1. Reinforce community-building: Colleges should invest in programs that promote cross-group interaction, civic participation, and social trust.

2. Prioritize mental health: Expand counseling, peer support, and proactive well-being initiatives, especially for students who might otherwise fall through the cracks.

3. Align research with public value: Fund and promote research on social cohesion, well-being interventions, and the relationship between trust and health, and ensure that findings inform public policy.

4. Foster institutional humility and outreach: Universities should engage with local communities, not as isolated centers of prestige, but as partners in building social infrastructure and resilience.

5. Measure what matters: Beyond graduation rates and research output, institutions should track well-being metrics — social trust, belonging, mental health — as central indicators of their impact.

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It Doesn't Have to Be This Bad 

The decline in happiness across the United States is not a passing phase or a matter of individual pathology. Rather, it reflects deep shifts in social trust, political cohesion, and community infrastructure. Historically, scholars like Putnam sounded the alarm on social capital’s erosion. Today, health researchers warn that falling well‑being shortens lives and exacerbates inequalities.

Higher education, if reoriented toward building connections, purpose, and trust, could play a vital role in reversing this trajectory. But if universities remain inward-looking or inequality-driven, they risk accelerating the very forces that undermine societal well-being. The stakes are high — not only for individual students, but for the future health and cohesion of the nation.

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Scholarly Sources:

• Lee, Amber H. Y. “Social Trust in Polarized Times: How Perceptions of Political Polarization Affect Americans’ Trust in Each Other.” Political Behavior, 2022. PMC

• Weiss, Inbar, Pamela Paxton, Kristopher Velasco, and Robert W. Ressler. “Revisiting Declines in Social Capital: Evidence from a New Measure.” Social Indicators Research, 2018. PMC

• Lawrence, Elizabeth M., Richard G. Rogers, and Tim Wadsworth. “Happiness and Longevity in the United States.” Social Science & Medicine, 2015. PMC

• Study on life satisfaction and mortality (14-year follow-up): PMC

• Research on income inequality and trust: “In Equality, We Trust” (IMF / Finance & Development) IMF

• Study of happy life expectancy, 1970–2000: PMC

• Putnam, Robert D. Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. (on social capital history) Wikipedia+1

The Link Between Greed and Efficiency

In the mythology of American capitalism, “efficiency” is the magic word that justifies austerity for workers, rising tuition for students, and ever-expanding wealth for administrators, financiers, and institutional elites. It is framed as neutral, technocratic, and rational. In reality, efficiency in higher education has become inseparable from greed, functioning as a mask for extraction and consolidation.

Universities and their sprawling medical centers have become some of the largest landowners and employers in the cities they inhabit. As Devarian Baldwin has shown, these institutions operate as urban empires, expanding aggressively into surrounding neighborhoods, raising housing costs, displacing long-time residents, and reshaping cities to suit institutional priorities. University medical centers, nominally nonprofit, consolidate smaller hospitals, close services deemed unprofitable, and charge some of the highest healthcare prices in the nation. These operations are justified as efficiency or economic development, yet they often destabilize the communities they claim to serve.

Endowments, some exceeding fifty billion dollars at elite institutions, have become central to this dynamic. Managed like hedge funds, these pools of capital are heavily invested in private equity, venture capital, real estate, and derivatives. The financial logic of endowment management now shapes university priorities, shifting focus from public service and learning to capital accumulation, investor returns, and risk management. Efficiency is defined not by educational outcomes but by the growth of financial assets.

This culture of extraction has been amplified by decades of government austerity. Public funding for higher education has steadily declined since the 1980s, forcing institutions to behave like corporations. At the same time, the aging Baby Boomer generation is creating unprecedented financial pressures on Social Security, Medicare, and healthcare systems, leaving public coffers stretched thin and reinforcing a winner-take-all national mentality. In this environment, universities compete fiercely for students, research dollars, donors, and prestige, producing conditions ripe for exploitation.

Outsourcing has become a standard method to achieve “efficiency.” Universities frequently contract out food service, custodial work, IT, housing management, and security. Workers employed by these contractors often face lower wages, fewer benefits, and higher turnover, while administrators present these arrangements as cost-saving measures. Meanwhile, administrative layers within institutions continue to expand, creating a managerial class that oversees growth and strategy while teaching budgets shrink. As Marc Bousquet has argued, the corporate-style management model displaces faculty governance and treats students and staff as revenue streams rather than participants in a shared educational mission.

The adjunctification of the faculty exemplifies efficiency as exploitation. Contingent instructors now teach the majority of classes in American higher education, earning poverty-level wages without benefits while juggling multiple teaching sites. Institutions call this “flexibility” and “cost containment,” but in reality it transfers value from instruction to administrative overhead, athletics, real estate, and financial operations, all while reducing the quality of education and undermining academic continuity.

The rise of Online Program Managers, or OPMs, further illustrates the fusion of greed and efficiency. These companies design, manage, and market entire online degree programs, often taking forty to seventy percent of tuition revenue. While presented as efficiency partners, OPMs aggressively recruit students, inflate costs, and minimize academic oversight. Their business model mirrors the exploitative strategies of for-profit colleges, which pioneered high-cost, low-quality instruction combined with heavy marketing to capture federal loan dollars. The collapse of chains such as Corinthian, ITT, and EDMC left millions of borrowers with debt and no degree, yet the model persists inside nonprofit universities through OPMs and algorithm-driven online programs.

“Robocolleges” represent the latest evolution of this trend. AI-driven instruction, predictive analytics, automated grading, and digital tutoring promise unprecedented efficiency, but they often replace human educators, reduce pedagogical oversight, exploit student data, and prioritize enrollment growth over educational quality. Efficiency here serves the financial bottom line rather than the learning or well-being of students.

The result of these extractive practices is a national crisis of student debt, now exceeding one trillion dollars. Students borrow to cover skyrocketing tuition, outsourced services, underpaid instruction, and the costs of programs shaped by OPMs or automated platforms. Debt is not an accident of the system; it is the intended outcome, a mechanism for transferring public resources and student labor into private profit.

The broader social context intensifies the problem. Higher education exists in a winner-take-all, financialized society, where resources flow upward and the majority of people are told to compete harder, work longer, and borrow more. Universities have internalized this ideology, acting as both symbols and engines of extraction. Efficiency, under this paradigm, is defined not by the effectiveness of teaching or research but by the expansion of institutional power, wealth, and influence.

True efficiency would look very different. It would invest in educators rather than contractors, stabilize academic labor rather than exploit it, serve surrounding communities rather than displace them, expand learning opportunities rather than debt, and prioritize democratic governance over corporate-style hierarchy. Efficiency should measure how well institutions serve the public good, not how well they protect endowment returns, OPM profits, or administrative salaries.

Until such a redefinition occurs, efficiency will remain one of the most powerful tools of extraction in American higher education, a rhetorical justification for greed disguised as rational management.

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Sources

Devarian Baldwin, In the Shadow of the Ivory Tower
Marc Bousquet, How the University Works
Tressie McMillan Cottom, Lower Ed
Christopher Newfield, The Great Mistake
Sara Goldrick-Rab, Paying the Price
Government reports on for-profit colleges, student debt, and OPMs
Research on higher education financialization, outsourcing, and austerity policies

A Moral Imperative: Universities Should Release All Epstein-Related Files

Universities have a responsibility to act. Harvard, MIT, and other elite institutions that accepted donations from Jeffrey Epstein — even after his 2008 conviction — must release all files related to his gifts, internal reviews, communications, and institutional interactions. Transparency is not optional; it is the first step in holding powerful actors accountable and restoring public trust. By disclosing these materials, universities can confront the full extent of institutional complicity and set a precedent for ethical leadership.

The Epstein scandal revealed more than the crimes of a single man. It exposed networks of wealth, influence, and institutional failure that allowed abuse to flourish. Epstein’s financial power bought him credibility, and universities, in return, offered him prestige, office space, and public recognition. This relationship was not incidental; it reflected structural norms that protect the privileged and silence victims. By releasing their files, universities can transform secrecy into accountability, turning knowledge and transparency into a powerful nonviolent tool for justice.

Scholarship plays a critical role in this process. Academics documenting Epstein’s networks, the decisions of institutional leaders, and systemic failures provide the evidence necessary to guide meaningful reform. Higher Education Inquirer’s reporting connects Epstein to influential figures such as Alan Dershowitz and Larry Summers, showing how institutional authority was leveraged to shield elite actors. Knowledge, in this context, functions as a form of nonviolent power — a way to demand change grounded in facts rather than force.

Educational institutions can also shape culture through ethical education. By integrating discussions of institutional complicity, philanthropy, and moral responsibility into curricula, universities prepare future leaders to recognize abuses of power and resist systems that protect the privileged. This is not simply about preventing future abuse; it is about cultivating leaders attuned to ethics, justice, and accountability across all sectors of society.

Nonviolent pressure is amplified when students, faculty, and alumni mobilize to demand transparency. Public forums, petitions, and advocacy campaigns compel boards and administrators to act. Universities cannot ignore the moral and reputational stakes when their communities insist on disclosure. Truth-and-reconciliation initiatives, such as survivor-led review boards, offer an additional path. These bodies confront past abuses, acknowledge harm, and recommend systemic reforms, creating space for healing while promoting institutional integrity.

Public engagement strengthens these efforts further. Independent media outlets and academic reporting extend the university’s moral authority into society, informing public debate and influencing policy. By releasing all Epstein-related files, universities participate directly in this process, setting a standard for transparency, accountability, and ethical leadership.

The Epstein revelations, as framed by Higher Education Inquirer, offer a historic opportunity. By releasing all relevant files, supporting rigorous research, fostering ethical education, and empowering communities to hold institutions accountable, higher education can wield its moral authority as a nonviolent force for justice. Universities reclaim public trust, demonstrate integrity, and show that knowledge and transparency remain among the most powerful tools for transformative social change.

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Sources

• Higher Education Inquirer. “Elite Higher Education and the Epstein Files.” July 14, 2025. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/elite-higher-education-and-epstein-files.html

• Higher Education Inquirer. “Release All the Epstein Files.” July 24, 2025. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/release-all-epstein-files.html

• Higher Education Inquirer. “Epstein, Dershowitz, Summers, and the Long Arc of Elite Impunity.” Nov 16, 2025. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/11/epstein-dershowitz-summers-and-long-arc.html

• Higher Education Inquirer. “The Dirty World of Billionaire Leon Black and Jeffrey Epstein: Profits Over People.” Aug 16, 2025. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/08/the-dirty-world-of-billionaire-leon.html

• Higher Education Inquirer. “Are the Epstein Files the Watergate of Our Time?” July 23, 2025. https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/are-the-epstein-files-the-watergate-of-our-time.html

Remembering SNCC and CORE

To remember CORE (est. 1942 in Chicago) and SNCC (est. 1960) is to remember a democracy built not by elites but by everyday people—students, sharecroppers, domestic workers, bus drivers, teachers, and the poor and working class across the Jim Crow South and the segregated North. It is to remember Ella Baker’s wisdom, Diane Nash’s determination, Bob Moses’s quiet power, Fannie Lou Hamer’s moral force, James Farmer’s strategic brilliance—and also the thousands of unnamed organizers who risked everything without ever appearing in a textbook, a documentary, or a university lecture hall. Their names may not be widely known, but their work forms the backbone of the freedom struggle.

CORE and SNCC and were never celebrity movements. They were people-powered, grassroots engines of democracy. They were built by individuals who knocked on doors in rural counties where Black voter registration hovered near zero; who faced armed sheriffs, Klan mobs, and white citizens’ councils; who farmed during the day and attended movement meetings at night; who ferried activists to safe houses; who housed Freedom Riders despite threats of arson and lynching; who cooked for mass meetings; who walked into county courthouses where their presence alone was an act of political defiance. These unnamed contributors shaped history as much as the well-known leaders, and their invisibility in public memory is itself a measure of how selectively the United States remembers the struggle for justice.

Ella Baker insisted from the beginning that the movement’s strength rested in ordinary people discovering their own power. That is why she pushed for “group-centered leadership,” refusing the myth that liberation depends on a single, heroic figure. Her practice of listening deeply—and her belief that the least recognized people held the deepest wisdom—permeated SNCC’s organizing culture. It is a challenge to institutions today, especially universities that still cling to hierarchical models of governance and expertise.

CORE’s early commitment to interracial, nonviolent direct action emerged from a similar belief in collective action. Its activists—people like James Farmer, Bayard Rustin, and George Houser—helped introduce the tactics that would soon reverberate across the nation: sit-ins, freedom rides, boycotts, and jail-ins. CORE’s work in northern cities also exposed the hypocrisy of institutions—including universities—that claimed moral high ground while upholding segregation in housing, employment, and policing.

SNCC’s field secretaries—Charles McDew, Ruby Doris Smith Robinson, and Prathia Hall, and so many others—did work that higher education still struggles to fully comprehend. Their organizing went far beyond protest; it involved listening to community elders, teaching literacy classes, building independent political organizations, challenging disenfranchisement at every level, and nurturing local leadership. Behind each of those actions were dozens of unnamed individuals who opened their homes, shared their limited resources, and stood guard against retaliation.

Remembering the unnamed is not sentimental. It is foundational. The freedom struggle was sustained by people whose names were never printed, whose stories never made the evening news, and whose families bore the consequences. Many were fired from their jobs, evicted from their homes, or harassed by police. Some disappeared from public life after the movement years, carrying trauma with little public recognition or support. Their sacrifices made the Civil Rights Movement possible, and higher education owes them a debt it has never acknowledged.

Today’s universities still wrestle with the structures the movement confronted: racialized inequality, policing, surveillance, donor influence, and hierarchical authority. Many of the same dynamics SNCC and CORE challenged—white paternalism, economic exploitation, authoritarian governance—are alive in campus politics and in the broader “college meltdown,” where austerity, privatization, and predatory actors erode public trust and opportunity.

To honor SNCC, CORE, and the thousands of unnamed organizers is to affirm that democracy emerges from the ground up. It means recognizing that real change requires more than symbolic gestures or PR-friendly “initiatives.” It demands revisiting Ella Baker’s core insight: strong people do not need strong leaders—they need structures that cultivate collective power.

Remembering them means acknowledging that the freedoms we now take for granted—voting rights, desegregation, access to education—were won not by institutions, but by people who challenged institutions. And it means seeing the present clearly: that grassroots organizing, from campus movements to community struggles, remains essential to confronting the crises of inequality, debt, climate, surveillance, and governance that define our era.

To remember SNCC and CORE is to remember not just the famous, but the countless unnamed: the hosts, the watchers, the singers, the marchers, the jailmates, the caretakers, the strategists, the frightened but determined teenagers, the elders who said “yes,” and the ones who insisted that freedom was worth the risk. Their legacy is the true measure of democracy—and a guide for what higher education must become if it is to serve justice rather than power.

Sources
Clayborne Carson, In Struggle: SNCC and the Black Awakening of the 1960s.
Thomas F. Jackson, From Civil Rights to Human Rights: Martin Luther King Jr. and the Struggle for Economic Justice.
Charles M. Payne, I’ve Got the Light of Freedom: The Organizing Tradition and the Mississippi Freedom Struggle.
James Farmer, Lay Bare the Heart: An Autobiography of the Civil Rights Movement.
Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters: America in the King Years.
Barbara Ransby, Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement.
Danielle L. McGuire, At the Dark End of the Street.
SNCC Digital Gateway, Duke University.