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

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

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

From Jefferson's Dream to a Political Battleground

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

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

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

The Pressure Mounts

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

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

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

Part of a Broader Campaign

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

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

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

The Stakes for the Future

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

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

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

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

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

The Harvard-Russia Nexus

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

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

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

Lawrence Summers and the Russian Connection

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

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

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

A Broader Pattern of Complicity

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

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

The Death of a Dissident

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

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

Where is the Accountability?

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

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

Elite Academia and Oligarchy

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

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

Layoffs at Southern New Hampshire University

Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU), long hailed as a leader in online education and a symbol of institutional reinvention, laid off approximately 60 employees on June 27, 2025. The move came without warning to staff, according to an anonymous source close to the situation.

Employees reportedly received a generic email from Lisa Marsh Ryerson, SNHU's newly installed president, delivering the news of their termination. There was no video call, no face-to-face meeting, and no meaningful explanation beyond the cold language of corporate HR.

“There was no sincerity,” the source said. “No real communication. Just a robotic email. No opportunity for questions, no acknowledgment of people’s service.”

The layoffs have sent shockwaves through the university’s workforce—many of whom had believed that SNHU’s image as a student-centered and employee-friendly institution translated into job security. That assumption, it appears, was misplaced.

SNHU, which once garnered praise from the Obama administration for its innovative online learning model, has undergone significant changes in recent years. Under the leadership of former president Paul LeBlanc, the university expanded its online programs rapidly and became one of the largest nonprofit providers of online degrees in the United States. But as the market for online education becomes increasingly competitive and enrollment pressures mount across the country, even big players like SNHU appear to be tightening their belts.

What’s striking about this latest round of cuts is not just the numbers—but the tone. At a university that prides itself on personalization and student engagement, employees describe the layoff process as abrupt, impersonal, and dehumanizing.

“They preach empathy to students,” the source noted. “But when it came to their own staff, there was none.”

It’s unclear which departments or roles were affected. SNHU has yet to issue a public statement, and no mention of the layoffs could be found on the university’s website or social media accounts at the time of publication.

The layoffs at SNHU follow broader trends in the higher education sector, where institutions—both public and private—are increasingly resorting to staff reductions amid enrollment declines, demographic shifts, and uncertain funding landscapes. But even in this context, the lack of transparency and empathy stands out.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to monitor developments at Southern New Hampshire University and invites current and former employees to share their experiences confidentially.

Remembering Bill Moyers (1934-2025)

In a media landscape often dominated by soundbites, spin, and sensationalism, Bill Moyers was a rare voice of clarity, compassion, and conscience. With his passing, America has lost not only a gifted journalist and public intellectual but also one of its most courageous truth-tellers.

For more than half a century, Moyers stood at the intersection of journalism, politics, and public education—unyielding in his pursuit of justice and understanding. From his early days as White House Press Secretary under President Lyndon Johnson to his groundbreaking work with PBS, Moyers embodied the spirit of democratic inquiry: probing deeply, listening intently, and speaking boldly. He held the powerful to account, but always with the dignity and decency that defined his Texan roots and Baptist upbringing.

Bill Moyers never saw journalism as a career; he saw it as a calling. His programs—Now with Bill Moyers, Bill Moyers Journal, and Moyers & Company—were sanctuaries for critical thought and inconvenient truths. He gave voice to the voiceless: whistleblowers, teachers, laborers, poets, and prophets. In a time when the corporate capture of media narrowed the spectrum of acceptable opinion, Moyers stretched it wide—amplifying progressive theologians, investigative reporters, civil rights leaders, and scholars ignored by commercial networks.

His love of learning, and his belief in public education as a democratic cornerstone, made him a champion of educators and lifelong learners. He understood that education is not merely about credentials or career preparation, but about cultivating the moral imagination. That insight animated his long relationship with public broadcasting, where he insisted that television could—and should—educate, illuminate, and elevate.

Bill Moyers also saw through the fog of power. He knew how elite institutions—government, media, universities, and corporations—could align to manufacture consent and mystify the public. And yet he maintained hope. Not a naive optimism, but a deep belief in people’s capacity to awaken, organize, and transform society. As he once said, “Democracy is not a lie, it is a leap of faith. But you need to keep leaping.”

In a moment when American higher education faces crises of affordability, access, and meaning—when trust in journalism is frayed, and when truth itself feels embattled—Bill Moyers’ legacy reminds us that integrity matters. So does context, complexity, and compassion.

His loss is personal for those of us at the Higher Education Inquirer. Many of us were shaped by his work, inspired by his commitment to investigative rigor and human dignity. His interviews with thinkers like Howard Zinn, Cornel West, Barbara Ehrenreich, and Joseph Campbell helped expand the public's moral and intellectual horizons—precisely what higher education should strive to do.

In remembering Bill Moyers, we are called to do more than mourn. We are called to follow his example: to ask harder questions, to listen more deeply, to speak more clearly, and to stand, always, with the people who are too often ignored or maligned.

Rest in power, Bill Moyers. Your words lit candles in the darkness. May we carry that light forward.

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

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

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

The Political Context

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

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

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

A Threat to the Federal Gatekeeping System?

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

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

Risks and Ramifications

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

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

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

A Test of Federalism in Higher Ed

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

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

The Supreme Court's Medicaid Ruling and the Manufactured War on Reproductive Health: A Response to Liberty University's “Freedom Center”

On June 26, 2025, the U.S. Supreme Court handed down a 6-3 decision in Medina v. Planned Parenthood South Atlantic, allowing South Carolina to remove Planned Parenthood from its list of Medicaid providers. While the decision raises serious legal and ethical concerns, it is the celebratory response from Liberty University's Standing for Freedom Center that warrants deeper scrutiny. Their framing of this decision as a moral and policy victory is not only misleading—it is a dangerous piece of religious nationalism masquerading as public policy commentary.

The Freedom Center’s narrative—couched in biblical justification, political triumphalism, and ideological fervor—ignores the very real, lived consequences for working-class women and college students across South Carolina and beyond. It presents a sanitized vision of “Christian governance” while masking the cruelty of stripping access to basic healthcare from the most vulnerable populations. This is not “standing for freedom”—this is the strategic consolidation of patriarchal, classist, and theocratic power.

A Direct Attack on Low-Income Women and Families

Let’s be clear: this ruling does not merely "redirect funding." It restricts access to cancer screenings, contraception, STI testing, and other non-abortion services provided by Planned Parenthood clinics—especially to Medicaid recipients, many of whom are low-income women, students, and working mothers. In South Carolina, two Planned Parenthood clinics served thousands of such patients. The claim that these women can simply go elsewhere is glib and unsubstantiated.

The Freedom Center boasts that over 140 “federally qualified community centers and pregnancy centers” exist to fill the gap. But these centers are notoriously inconsistent in the quality and availability of care, especially for reproductive health. Many so-called “pregnancy crisis centers” provide no medical care at all and are known to mislead and shame patients. Access to meaningful, comprehensive reproductive care is not about the number of buildings—it’s about the quality, scope, and inclusiveness of services. Pretending otherwise is disingenuous at best.

Medicaid Recipients Silenced

At the heart of Medina is a deeply troubling precedent: individuals who depend on Medicaid can no longer sue the state if their access to providers is unilaterally restricted. The decision hinges on the argument that the Medicaid Act doesn’t explicitly allow private citizens to sue—a reversal of decades of precedent that protected patient choice.

This decision silences not just providers but patients. It strips legal recourse from low-income Americans and hands unchecked discretion to governors like South Carolina’s Henry McMaster, who has made no secret of his desire to eliminate abortion access altogether. If these actions are now unchallengeable in court, states can act with near impunity—denying healthcare access in the name of ideology.

Religious Rhetoric Masquerading as Law

The Freedom Center frames this decision in stark theological terms. According to their article, the ruling is not just a legal victory—it is a “Christian” one. They cite Scripture, claim to act in the name of Jesus, and assert that governments are “tasked by God to restrain evil.” This is a vision of governance not rooted in the Constitution or the Bill of Rights, but in a theocratic reinterpretation of American democracy.

This is especially chilling when one considers that Liberty University is not merely a religious institution but a political machine—one with deep ties to the Republican Party and far-right policy networks. Through this lens, Medina is not about “protecting life,” but about using state power to enforce a specific religious worldview, regardless of the collateral damage to women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and poor families.

The Broader Agenda: Criminalizing Reproductive Autonomy

Since the fall of Roe v. Wade, we’ve seen a steady escalation of attacks not just on abortion rights, but on reproductive autonomy more broadly—including access to contraception, gender-affirming care, and maternal health services. The Medina decision emboldens state-level campaigns to further criminalize, defund, and stigmatize reproductive healthcare. Liberty University’s Freedom Center doesn’t shy away from this broader agenda—they celebrate it.

They claim that Planned Parenthood “profits off abortion” and “distributes dangerous gender-transition drugs to minors”—a set of dog-whistle phrases designed to provoke fear and reinforce transphobic, misogynistic tropes. These claims lack evidence, but they serve a strategic function: demonizing reproductive healthcare providers and setting the stage for more sweeping restrictions and persecutions.

The Real Cost: Educated Underclass and the Erosion of Public Health

This ruling and the rhetoric around it disproportionately affect working-class women, students, and Black and brown communities. As colleges increasingly serve nontraditional, low-income, and first-generation students, many of whom rely on Medicaid, these policies create new barriers to health, education, and economic mobility.

We must ask: who benefits from the creation of an underclass without access to healthcare or legal recourse? Who profits from forcing women to carry unwanted pregnancies while cutting funding for childcare, education, and public health? The answer isn’t God—it’s a political and economic elite that thrives on disempowerment, all while hiding behind the cross.

Orwellian Freedom

The Supreme Court’s Medina decision is not a victory for “freedom” but a blow to democratic rights and healthcare access. Liberty University’s Freedom Center celebrates it not as a legal analysis, but as a religious crusade. Their euphemistic language about “protecting life” and “comprehensive care” distracts from the real consequences: more suffering, fewer options, and deepening inequality.

The Higher Education Inquirer stands in opposition to this dystopian vision. We support the rights of students, workers, and families to access comprehensive, evidence-based healthcare—free from political and religious coercion. This fight is not just about abortion—it is about the right to bodily autonomy, the right to sue the government when it harms you, and the right to live free from imposed theological rule.

Liberty Lost: A Stark Look at Faith, Power, and Reproductive Coercion at Liberty University

 In the new podcast Liberty Lost, journalist T.J. Raphael uncovers a deeply unsettling system operating within the bounds of one of America’s largest evangelical universities. Set in the heart of Lynchburg, Virginia, at Liberty University, the story centers around the Liberty Godparent Home—a little-known facility for pregnant teens with close institutional and ideological ties to the university founded by Jerry Falwell Sr.

What begins as a place of supposed refuge for young, unmarried women who become pregnant quickly reveals itself to be a pressure chamber for coerced adoption—wrapped in Christian fundamentalist dogma and amplified by the material incentives of access to a Liberty University education. For some girls, like Abbi, the protagonist of the podcast’s first episodes, the cost of obedience is not only personal but generational.

The podcast, released by Wondery and available on all major platforms, chronicles Abbi’s harrowing journey into the Liberty Godparent Home, where she’s isolated from her family and friends, counseled by religious figures with a clear agenda, and told in no uncertain terms that “God wants her baby to go to a more deserving Christian couple.” Behind the language of “choice” and “support,” the message is clear: parenting is discouraged, and adoption is moralized.

These adoptions are not only shaped by theology but by an implicit transaction. Girls who go through with adoption are more likely to receive full scholarships to Liberty University. Refuse, and they risk being cast aside—denied the academic support and financial stability promised by the institution. It’s a system in which teenage girls’ reproductive choices are entangled with Liberty’s brand of moral authority, educational opportunity, and patriarchal control.

Raphael carefully weaves together interviews with former residents, including those who’ve grown into adulthood haunted by the trauma of giving up their children. Their stories span decades, and together they paint a picture of a deeply entrenched culture of reproductive coercion masked as Christian charity. The podcast also traces how these practices—long thought to have faded after the peak of “maternity homes” in the 20th century—are resurging in post-Roe America. Liberty is not an outlier, but rather a flagship in a growing movement.

The implications for higher education are chilling. Liberty University, already known for its regressive social policies and political entanglements, appears to be operating a pipeline where vulnerable teens are funneled through a reproductive system designed to serve religious ideology and institutional branding, rather than their own well-being. It’s not just a question of faith—it’s a question of ethics, autonomy, and what happens when educational institutions leverage opportunity against obedience.

Liberty Lost should serve as a call to investigate not just one university or one home, but an entire network of under-regulated faith-based institutions profiting—spiritually and materially—from the forced sacrifices of young women. At a time when the nation’s reproductive rights are under siege, the podcast is both a warning and a demand: to listen, to document, and to hold accountable those who wield education as a weapon.

For those interested in the intersections of religion, power, and reproductive justice in U.S. higher education, Liberty Lost is essential listening—and a sobering reminder that the struggle for bodily autonomy does not end at the gates of a university. It may very well begin there.

Supreme Court Ruling Threatens Healthcare Access for Working-Class College Women

In a landmark ruling on June 26, the U.S. Supreme Court sided with South Carolina in its effort to defund Planned Parenthood by excluding it from the state’s Medicaid program. The Court’s 6-3 decision, issued along ideological lines, has far-reaching consequences that extend well beyond the politics of abortion. At stake is the ability of Medicaid recipients to challenge state actions that restrict access to qualified healthcare providers, and among those most affected are working-class women—particularly those trying to build better futures through higher education.

For millions of low-income students, particularly women attending community colleges, for-profit institutions, and public universities, Medicaid and Planned Parenthood are vital safety nets. These students often juggle full course loads with jobs, caregiving responsibilities, and personal financial struggles. For them, Planned Parenthood has been more than a provider of abortion services. It offers birth control, cancer screenings, STI testing, reproductive counseling, and referrals for other necessary medical care. In many areas, especially in the South and rural regions like South Carolina, Planned Parenthood is one of the few accessible providers that treat Medicaid patients with dignity and without judgment.

The Supreme Court’s ruling removes the legal power of those patients to sue when a state excludes such providers from the Medicaid program, even if those providers are otherwise qualified. In her dissent, Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson wrote that this decision would result in "tangible harm to real people," depriving Medicaid recipients of their only meaningful way to enforce rights Congress granted them. And she’s right. The ruling effectively silences the most vulnerable people in the healthcare system—people who are too poor to pay out of pocket and too marginalized to be heard in political decision-making.

For working-class women in college, this decision could be devastating. When they lose access to affordable reproductive healthcare, their academic goals are put at risk. The ability to plan pregnancies, receive prenatal care, or treat chronic reproductive health issues is foundational to educational persistence and success. Without it, students may drop out due to unplanned pregnancies, untreated health conditions, or overwhelming financial strain. This outcome is particularly likely for women of color, who are already overrepresented in low-income student populations and underrepresented in graduation rates.

The myth that working-class women have “plenty of other options” falls apart under scrutiny. In South Carolina, nearly 40 percent of counties are considered “contraceptive deserts,” areas where access to affordable contraception is limited or nonexistent. While the state claims there are over a hundred other clinics available, many of these lack the staffing, specialization, or welcoming environment of Planned Parenthood. In practice, the choice is not between providers—it’s between care and no care.

Beyond immediate healthcare impacts, the ruling has structural implications for the political economy of both education and health. It reveals how deeply interlinked these systems are, and how the erosion of rights in one domain—healthcare—directly undermines access and equity in another—education. This is not an isolated case. It fits into a broader strategy by right-wing legislators and courts to control reproductive autonomy, silence poor people’s legal recourse, and undermine public systems that serve the working class.

It also exposes the hypocrisy of institutions and corporations that profit from inequality. As this ruling was being issued, ads for Hillsdale College and the University of Phoenix appeared alongside the coverage, promoting liberty and career advancement while healthcare infrastructure for their target demographics crumbles. This is the business model of disaster capitalism—undermine public goods, then monetize the chaos.

The consequences will be real and immediate. A working mother studying to become a nurse or teacher may now have to miss classes or drop out because she cannot get a Pap smear, refill her birth control, or find prenatal care. A young Black student in a Southern community college may now have no place to turn when she needs reproductive health services. A low-income family may be forced into debt to treat a preventable condition that would have been caught in a routine screening at Planned Parenthood. These are not hypothetical scenarios. They are the daily realities of an educated underclass pushed further to the margins.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to follow this story as GOP-led states are expected to follow South Carolina’s lead, and as advocacy organizations brace for a long and difficult fight. For now, the Supreme Court’s decision stands as a sobering reminder that health, education, and justice in America remain deeply entangled—and increasingly inaccessible—for those without wealth or political power.

Murky Waters 2: Ambow Education, Chinese Influence, and US Edtech, 2013-2025

In Chinese culture, there’s an old proverb: “混水摸鱼” — “In murky waters, it is easier to catch fish.” The lesson is clear: confusion and opacity benefit those looking to manipulate outcomes for personal gain. In politics, finance, and international affairs, it is a warning. In the case of Ambow Education Holding Ltd., it may be a roadmap.

On June 26, 2025, Ambow announced a partnership with the tiny University of the West (UWest), a Buddhist college in Rosemead, California, enrolling just 153 students. The deal will implement Ambow’s HybriU platform—a so-called “phygital” learning solution combining digital and physical education delivery—positioning the technology as a tool for expanding U.S. academic access to international students. But a closer look reveals a story less about educational innovation than about power, soft influence, and the financialization of struggling institutions.

Ambow, a Cayman Islands–registered and formerly Beijing-based EdTech firm, has quietly entrenched itself in U.S. higher education. While other sectors of the U.S. economy—especially semiconductors and AI—have become more cautious of Chinese-linked investment due to national security concerns, American higher education remains notably exposed. The Ambow-UWest partnership exemplifies that vulnerability.

This is not Ambow’s first foray into U.S. academia. In 2013, the company was delisted from the New York Stock Exchange and liquidated after accusations of accounting irregularities. Rebranded and restructured offshore, Ambow re-entered the market, acquiring distressed for-profit colleges. In 2017, it bought Bay State College in Boston. Three years later, Massachusetts fined the school $1.1 million for fraudulent advertising, inflated placement rates, and illegal telemarketing. The school shuttered in 2023 after eliminating key services, including its library, and squandering pandemic-era federal aid.

In 2020, Ambow acquired the NewSchool of Architecture and Design in San Diego. Since then, NewSchool has appeared on the U.S. Department of Education’s Heightened Cash Monitoring 2 list, signifying severe financial instability. Lawsuits followed, including one for unpaid rent and another over compensation disputes involving the school’s former president.

Still, Ambow continues to market itself as a leader in “AI-driven” phygital innovation. HybriU, its flagship platform, has been promoted at edtech and investor conferences like CES and ASU-GSV, with lofty promises about immersive education and intelligent classrooms. But the evidence is thin. The platform’s website contains vague marketing language, no peer-reviewed validation, no public client list, and stock images masquerading as real users. Its core technology, OOOK (One-on-One Knowledge), was piloted in China in 2021 but shows no signs of adoption by credible U.S. institutions.

Why, then, would a college like University of the West—or potentially a major public institution like Colorado State University (CSU), reportedly exploring a partnership with Ambow—risk associating with such an entity?

To understand the stakes, we must follow the money and the power behind the brand.

Ambow’s largest shareholder bloc is controlled by Jian-Yue Pan (aka Pan Jianyue), a Chinese executive with deep ties to the country’s tech and investment elite. Pan is general partner of CEIHL Partners I and II, two Cayman Islands entities that control roughly 26.7 percent of Ambow’s publicly floated Class A shares. He also chairs Uphill Investment Co., which is active in the semiconductor and electronics sectors, and holds board positions in tech firms with connections to Tsinghua University—one of China’s premier talent pipelines for its national strategic industries.

Pan’s voting control over Ambow gives him sweeping influence over its corporate decisions, executive appointments, and strategic direction. His role raises critical concerns about the use of U.S. higher education infrastructure as a potential channel for data access, market expansion, and soft geopolitical influence.

To further legitimize its U.S. operations, Ambow recently appointed James Bartholomew as company president. Bartholomew’s resume includes controversial stints at DeVry University and Adtalem Global Education. While at DeVry, the institution was fined $100 million by the FTC for deceptive marketing. At Adtalem, he oversaw operations criticized for offshore medical schools and active resistance to gainful employment regulations.

Even Ambow’s financial underpinnings are suspect. Its R&D spending hovers around $100,000 per quarter—trivial for a firm purporting to lead in AI and immersive tech. Its audits are performed by Prouden CPA, a virtually unknown Chinese firm, not one of the major global accounting networks. These red flags suggest not a dynamic tech company, but a shell operation kept afloat by hype, misdirection, and strategic ambiguity.

That makes its ambitions in U.S. public education all the more dangerous.

Reports that Colorado State University—a land-grant institution managing sensitive federal research—may be considering a partnership with Ambow should prompt urgent scrutiny. Has CSU conducted a full cybersecurity and national security risk assessment? Have university stakeholders—faculty, students, and the public—been involved in the review process? Or is the university racing blindly into an agreement driven by budget pressures and buzzwords?

American higher education has long been susceptible to bad actors promising solutions to enrollment declines and funding shortfalls. But in recent years, the cost of these decisions has grown. With campuses increasingly dependent on international student tuition and digital platforms, the door has opened to exploitative operators and geopolitical influence.

Ambow has already shuttered one U.S. college. Its remaining campus is on shaky footing. Its technology lacks serious vetting. Its leadership is tethered to past scandals. And its largest shareholder has interests far beyond education.

This is not just about Ambow. It is about the structural vulnerabilities in American higher education—an industry ripe for manipulation by financial speculators, tech opportunists, and foreign actors operating with impunity. The murky waters of privatized, digitized education reward those who operate without transparency.

Public universities must remember who they serve: students, faculty, and the public—not offshore shareholders or unproven platforms.

If Colorado State or any other institution moves forward with Ambow, they owe the public clear answers: What protections are in place? What risks are being considered? Who really controls the platforms delivering instruction? And most importantly, why are public institutions turning to unstable, opaque companies for core educational delivery?

As the proverb reminds us, murky waters are fertile ground for hidden agendas. But education, above all, demands clarity, integrity, and public accountability.

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Sources:

• SEC filings and 20-F reports: sec.gov

• Massachusetts Attorney General settlement with Bay State College, March 2020

• Federal Trade Commission settlement with DeVry University, December 2016

• U.S. Department of Education Heightened Cash Monitoring List

• NYSE delisting notices, 2013

• CES and ASU-GSV conference archives, 2023–2024

• Corporate data from MarketScreener and CEIHL Partners

• Ambow’s 2023 Annual Report and quarterly 6-K filings

Higher Education Inquirer's International Influence

The Higher Education Inquirer has gained a strong international influence.  Here are the viewership numbers for the last 24 hours.   

Does higher ed still make sense for students, financially? (Bryan Alexander)

[Editor's note: This article first appeared at BryanAlexander.org.]

Is a college degree still worth it?

The radio program/podcast Marketplace hosted me as a guest last week to speak to the question.  You can listen to it* or read my notes below, or both.  I have one reflection at the end of this post building on one interview question.

One caveat or clarification before I get hate mail: the focus of the show was entirely on higher education’s economics.  We didn’t discuss the non-financial functions of post-secondary schooling because that’s not what the show (called “Marketplace”) is about, nor did we talk about justifying academic study for reasons of personal development, family formation, the public good, etc.  The conversation was devoted strictly to the economic proposition.

The hosts, Kimberly Adams and Reema Khrais, began by asking if higher ed still made financial sense.  Yes, I answered, for a good number of people – but not everyone.  Much depends on your degree and your institution’s reputation.  And I hammered home the problem of some college but no degree.  The hosts asked if that value proposition was declining.  My response: the perception of that value is dropping.  Here I emphasized the reality, and the specter, of student debt, along with anxieties about AI and politics.  Then I added my hypothesis that the “college for all” consensus is breaking up.

Next the hosts asked me what changing (declining) attitudes about higher education mean for campuses.  I responded by outlining the many problems, centered around the financial pressures many schools are under.  I noted Trump’s damages then cited my peak higher education model.  Marketplace asked me to explain the appeal of alternatives to college (the skilled trades, certificates, boot camps, etc), which I did, and then we turned to automation, which I broke up into AI vs robotics, before noting gender differences.

Back to college for all: which narrative succeeds it?  I didn’t have a good, single answer right away.  We touched on a resurgence of vocational technology, then I sang the praises of liberal education.  We also talked about the changing value of different degrees – is the BA the new high school diploma? Is a master’s degree still a good idea?  I cited the move to reduce degree demands from certain fields, as well as the decline of the humanities, the crisis of computer science, and the growing importance of allied health.

After my part ended, Adams and Khrais pondered the role of higher education as a culture war battlefield.  Different populations might respond in varied ways – perhaps adults are more into the culture war issues, and maybe women (already the majority of students) are at greater risk of automation.

So what follows the end of college for all?

If the American consensus that K-12 should prepare every student for college breaks down, if we no longer have a rough agreement that the more post-secondary experience people get, the better, the next phase seems to be… mixed.  Perhaps we’re entering an intermediary phase before a new settlement becomes clear.

One component seems to be a resurgence in the skilled trades, requiring either apprenticeship, a short community college course of study, or on the job training.  Demand is still solid, at least until robotics become reliable and cost-effective in these fields, which doesn’t seem to be happening in at least the short term.  This needs preparation in K-12, and we’re already seeing the most prominent voices calling for a return to secondary school trades training.  There’s a retro dimension to this which might appeal to older folks. (I’ve experienced this in conversations with Boomers and my fellow Gen Xers, as people reminisce about shop class and home ec.)

A second piece of the puzzle would be businesses and the public sector expanding their education functions.  There is already an ecosystem of corporate campuses, online training, chief learning officers, and more; that could simply grow as employers seek to wean employees away from college.

A third might be a greater focus on skills across the board. Employers demand certain skills to a higher degree of clarity, perhaps including measurements for soft skills.  K-12 schools better articulate student skill achievement, possibly through microcredentials and/or expanded (portfolio) certification. Higher education expands its use of prior learning assessment for adult learners and transfer students, while also following or paralleling K-12 in more clearly identifying skills within the curriculum and through outcomes.

A fourth would be greater politicization of higher education.  If America pulls back from college for all, college for some arrives and the question of who gets to go to campus becomes a culture war battlefield.  Already a solid majority of students are women, so we might expect gender politics to intensify, with Republicans and men’s rights activists increasingly calling on male teenagers to skip college while young women view university as an even more appropriate stage of their lives.  Academics might buck 2025’s trends and more clearly proclaim the progressive aims they see postsecondary education fulfilling, joined by progressive politicians and cultural figures.  Popular culture might echo this, with movies/TV shows/songs/bestsellers depicting the academy as either a grim ideological factory turning students into fiery liberals or as a safe place for the flowering of justice and identity.

Connecting these elements makes me recall and imagine stories.  I can envision two teenagers, male and female, talking through their expectations of college. One sees it as mandatory “pink collar” preparation while the other dreads it for that reason.  The former was tracked into academic classes while the latter appreciated maker space time and field trips to work sites. Or we might follow a young man as he enters woodworking and succeeds in that field for years, feeling himself supported in his masculinity and also avoiding student debt, until he decides to return to school after health problems limit his professional abilities.  Perhaps one business sets up a campus and an apprenticeship system which it codes politically, such as claiming a focus on merit and not DEI, on manly virtues and traditional culture. In contrast another firm does the same but without any political coding, instead carefully anchoring everything in measured and certified skill development.

Over all of these options looms the specter of AI, and here the picture is more muddy.  Do “pink collar” jobs persist as alternatives to the experience of chatbots, or do we automate those functions?  Does post-secondary education become mandatory for jobs handling AIs, which I’ve been calling “AI wranglers”?  If automation depresses the labor force, do we come to see college as a gamble on scoring a rare, well paying job?

I’ll stop here.  My thanks to Marketplace for the kind interview on a vital topic.

*My audio quality isn’t the best because I fumbled the recording. Sigh.

The Confidence Crisis: Why Young Workers Are Losing Faith in the Job Market

In May 2025, worker confidence in the U.S. labor market sank to its lowest point in nearly a decade. Glassdoor reports that only 44.1% of employees expressed a positive six-month business outlook, citing mounting economic instability, tariff threats, and rising layoffs. For entry-level workers—the newest entrants into the workforce—the numbers were even worse: just 43.4% expressed confidence, the lowest since Glassdoor began tracking this data in 2016.

These numbers reflect more than just a cyclical downturn—they point to a deeper structural issue at the heart of the U.S. economy and higher education system.

Layoffs Rising, Job Growth Slowing

According to Challenger, Gray & Christmas, U.S.-based employers cut 93,816 jobs in May, a 47% increase over the same month last year. Meanwhile, the U.S. added just 139,000 jobs, down from April’s total of 147,000, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Despite headlines touting “full employment,” many workers—especially younger ones—see fewer opportunities and reduced mobility.

The Collapse of Upward Mobility

For recent college graduates, the path from education to employment is increasingly blocked. Hiring has slowed across multiple sectors, particularly in roles that were once considered reliable entry points into the professional world. According to Daniel Zhao, lead economist at Glassdoor, “The low hiring environment we’re in right now means it’s hard for young grads to get onto the career ladder in the first place.”

For those who do land jobs, internal advancement has become more difficult. Companies are not promoting or hiring at the same rates as before, and competition has intensified as experienced workers, displaced by layoffs, vie for the same positions.

As Zhao notes, this creates “more bunching at the bottom of the career ladder,” further reducing the chances for advancement. The result is a stagnant and oversaturated early-career labor market that undermines the basic assumption that education leads to mobility.

The Rise of the Educated Underclass

This moment underscores what sociologist Gary Roth has called the emergence of an “educated underclass”—a growing segment of workers with college degrees who find themselves in precarious, low-wage, or unstable employment. The promise that higher education guarantees success in the labor market has unraveled for many, replaced by a cycle of job insecurity, career stagnation, and rising debt.

Colleges and universities continue to promote degree attainment as the key to upward mobility, yet millions of graduates are discovering that the market does not need, or will not absorb, their skills at a level commensurate with their education. What began as a student debt crisis is now a broader economic phenomenon: the creation of a surplus class of credentialed workers whose aspirations exceed the system’s capacity to deliver.

This “educated underclass” is not simply the result of poor individual choices or bad timing—it is a structural outcome of a labor market and education system misaligned with one another and increasingly shaped by financialized logics. As more employers demand degrees for routine work, and as automation and outsourcing reduce the number of stable middle-class jobs, the role of college becomes less about opportunity and more about gatekeeping and economic sorting.

Higher Education’s Complicity

The current crisis also raises hard questions about the higher education industry itself. Institutions have continued to expand enrollment and raise tuition, fueling a multi-trillion-dollar student debt industry, while offering little accountability for post-graduation outcomes. Marketing campaigns still sell the dream of transformation through education—even as graduates enter a labor market defined by instability, underemployment, and diminished returns on investment.

A System in Crisis

The ongoing decline in worker confidence, especially among the young, may signal not just temporary economic anxiety, but a legitimacy crisis for both the labor market and the education system that feeds it. As job cuts increase and growth stagnates, more Americans—especially those carrying degrees and debt—are beginning to question the rules of the game.

At the Higher Education Inquirer, we continue to track the rise of the educated underclass, the erosion of labor market mobility, and the complicity of institutions that have sold debt-financed credentials as a ticket to the middle class. The gap between educational promise and economic reality has become too large to ignore.

Disruption to Power: SoFi’s Ascendance in the Student Loan Industrial Complex

In the shadow of America’s $1.6 trillion student debt crisis, a once-disruptive fintech startup has transformed into a dominant force in the education-finance nexus. SoFi, short for Social Finance, Inc., began in 2011 as a Stanford alumni experiment to refinance student loans for well-off students. Today, it is a publicly traded financial firm with a national bank charter, major marketing campaigns, and increasing influence in Washington, D.C.

SoFi presents itself as a modern financial ally, promising to help borrowers achieve independence and long-term wealth. But beneath its sleek branding lies a business model that benefits most from refinancing the federal student debt of high-earning professionals. This approach has left millions of vulnerable borrowers behind—those who don’t attend elite institutions, who work in low-paying or public-service jobs, or who are first-generation students with higher default risks.

The core of SoFi’s business depends on moving borrowers out of the federal student loan system, where they’re entitled to income-driven repayment plans and possible loan forgiveness. Once these loans are refinanced with SoFi, those protections vanish. Private loans with SoFi offer no forgiveness options, limited hardship forbearance, and terms that shift with the whims of the financial markets. While this may work for doctors and lawyers with stable incomes, it’s a precarious arrangement for most Americans saddled with educational debt.

Over the past few years, SoFi has done more than just expand its loan offerings. It has aggressively stepped into the political arena. In 2023, the company sued the U.S. Department of Education, arguing that the federal student loan payment pause hurt its profits by reducing demand for refinancing. This legal move highlighted SoFi’s priorities and sparked public criticism, especially from borrower advocates who saw the company as putting its bottom line above public relief.

SoFi’s lobbying efforts have expanded alongside its ambitions. As federal policymakers debated student loan forgiveness and payment pause extensions, SoFi worked behind the scenes to influence the outcome in its favor. The company also lobbied to shape regulations around its other financial services, including personal loans, investing products, and even cryptocurrency offerings.

In 2022, SoFi reached a major milestone when it received a national bank charter. This shift allowed the company to operate more like a traditional bank, accepting deposits and issuing loans directly. While this expanded SoFi’s profit potential, it also blurred the lines between the fintech startup it once was and the entrenched financial institutions it claimed to disrupt.

Despite its diversification into broader financial services, student loan refinancing remains a major part of SoFi’s revenue. That core product reflects a broader trend in American higher education: a two-tiered system where financial tools are increasingly tailored to those who are already advantaged. SoFi’s ideal borrower is someone with high credit, high income, and a degree from a prestigious school. Meanwhile, millions of others—disproportionately Black and Latino borrowers, women, first-generation students, and those who left school without graduating—remain stuck in cycles of debt that SoFi has little incentive to address.

While legacy loan servicers like Navient and Nelnet have faced criticism and regulatory scrutiny, newer fintech players like SoFi have largely avoided such attention. With their slick apps, celebrity endorsements, and polished messaging, they appear modern and benevolent. But their growing influence over student lending policy and their efforts to shape federal loan programs raise serious concerns about whose interests they truly serve.

As political debates continue over the future of student debt relief, SoFi is positioning itself to thrive no matter the outcome. Its success tells a larger story about the privatization of higher education finance and the quiet consolidation of power by private firms in what was once seen as a public good.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to report on the forces reshaping higher ed finance. In the case of SoFi, the question remains: is this innovation—or exploitation?

The Missing 377,000: Gaza’s Grim Arithmetic, the Mirage of Humanitarian Aid—and the Crackdown on Campus Dissent

Original reporting sourced from 21st Century Wire, with data from Dr. Yaakov Garb’s 2025 report published on the Harvard Dataverse

A groundbreaking new report authored by Dr. Yaakov Garb, Professor at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, and hosted on the Harvard Dataverse, reveals a brutal arithmetic behind Israel’s military campaign in Gaza. According to Garb’s spatial and demographic analysis, the number of Palestinians likely killed or missing in the Gaza Strip now exceeds 300,000. That figure—derived from Israel’s own internal data—calls into question the official death tolls promoted in mainstream media and reveals a staggering discrepancy: 377,000 people are unaccounted for.

These numbers expose more than just a humanitarian crisis. They reveal a calculated architecture of control, cloaked in the language of aid but functioning as an extension of military occupation. Yet as these truths emerge through academic and investigative channels, another battle is being waged—on college campuses across the U.S. and Europe—where students who dare to speak out are increasingly being targeted for suppression.

Gaza’s Disappeared

The report shows that prior to the 2023-25 siege, Gaza’s population was approximately 2.227 million. Israeli Defense Forces estimate that the three main populated enclaves now contain only 1.85 million people:

• Gaza City: 1 million

• Mawasi: 0.5 million

• Central Gaza: 0.35 million

That leaves 377,000 Gazans whose whereabouts are unknown. While some may be displaced or trapped in inaccessible areas, the report strongly implies that the missing are dead—many likely buried under rubble, dismembered beyond recognition, or perished from starvation and disease in isolation.

This number dwarfs commonly cited death tolls and challenges the sanitized statistics reported in international media. It is not the product of speculation, but of direct analysis of Israeli military data. What Garb calls a “demographic horror story” is also a legal and moral reckoning.

Humanitarian Aid as Military Strategy

The second key finding of the report is that Israel’s so-called humanitarian aid compounds—constructed with U.S. support and operated in part by private American security firms—function not as relief centers, but as militarized zones that restrict access, surveil civilians, and enable violence.

These compounds are located in Israeli-declared “buffer zones” where civilians risk death for attempting entry. Their design funnels desperate Palestinians through chokepoints devoid of shade, water, or toilets—what the report identifies as a “fatal funnel” meant to control crowds, not serve them.

These installations stand in violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention, which requires occupying powers to ensure food and medical supplies reach the civilian population, or allow independent humanitarian groups to do so. Instead, Israel has obstructed neutral aid groups and replaced them with a system that uses the language of humanitarianism to justify a regime of control and dispossession.

Repression at Home: Silencing Student Dissent

While Garb’s report meticulously documents atrocities abroad, a parallel strategy of repression has emerged within the borders of liberal democracies: the systematic persecution of student protestors who speak out against Israeli actions in Gaza.

On university campuses across the United States, Europe, and beyond, students demanding an end to the siege and accountability for war crimes are being surveilled, suspended, expelled, doxxed, and in some cases arrested. Faculty members who support these students have also faced retaliation, including denial of tenure, contract non-renewal, and public vilification.

Major donors and political actors have increasingly intervened in university affairs, pressuring administrations to equate protest with antisemitism, despite the fact that many of these student groups include Jewish activists and operate under clear human rights frameworks. What is being punished is not hate speech—but dissent.

University leaders, once guardians of free inquiry, now act as enforcers of ideological conformity, chilling debate and flattening moral nuance in the name of institutional stability. The persecution of protestors is not just a betrayal of academic freedom—it is a continuation of the same campaign of silence that allows mass death abroad to proceed without scrutiny.

The Disappeared, Here and There

In Gaza, the disappeared number in the hundreds of thousands. In the West, those who try to name this horror are disappeared in different ways: stripped of platforms, denied scholarships, pushed out of academic spaces. These twin silences—one enforced through military might, the other through institutional discipline—serve the same purpose: to protect power from accountability.

Dr. Garb’s report concludes with a searing indictment: “If an attacker (occupier) cannot adequately and neutrally feed a starving population in the wake of a disaster it is ongoingly creating, it is obligated to allow other humanitarian agencies to do so.” This obligation has not been met. Instead, it has been replaced by the architecture of impunity—built from rubble in Gaza, and maintained through repression in the halls of higher education.

If we fail to confront this architecture—if we allow it to be draped in the language of aid and the robes of civility—then we are complicit in its violence.

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Primary Source:
Garb, Yaakov. 2025. The Israeli/American/GHF ‘aid distribution’ compounds in Gaza: Dataset and initial analysis of location, context, and internal structure. Harvard Dataverse. https://doi.org/10.7910/DVN/QB75LB

With acknowledgments to 21st Century Wire and the journalists and students who refuse to be silent.

China Select Committee Launches AI Campaign with Legislation to Block CCP-Linked AI from U.S. Government Use

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

June 25, 2025

Contact:

Alyssa Pettus

Brian Benko

WASHINGTON, D.C. — As the House Select Committee on the China opens its landmark hearing, “Authoritarians and Algorithms: Why U.S. AI Must Lead,” Committee leaders are unveiling new bipartisan legislation to confront the CCP’s growing exploitation of artificial intelligence.

Chairman John Moolenaar (R-MI) and Ranking Member Raja Krishnamoorthi (D-IL) today announced the House introduction of the “No Adversarial AI Act”— bipartisan legislation also being championed in the Senate by Senators Rick Scott (R-FL) and Gary Peters (D-MI). The bill would prohibit U.S. executive agencies from acquiring or using artificial intelligence developed by companies tied to foreign adversaries like the Chinese Communist Party. The House legislation is cosponsored by a bipartisan group of Select Committee members, including Reps. Ritchie Torres (D-NY) and Darin LaHood (R-IL). 

 

“We are in a new Cold War—and AI is the strategic technology at the center,” said Chairman Moolenaar. “The CCP doesn’t innovate—it steals, scales, and subverts. From IP theft and chip smuggling to embedding AI in surveillance and military platforms, the Chinese Communist Party is racing to weaponize this technology. We must draw a clear line: U.S. government systems cannot be powered by tools built to serve authoritarian interests.”

What the No Adversarial AI Act Does:

• Creates a public list of AI systems developed by foreign adversaries, maintained and updated by the Federal Acquisition Security Council.
• Prohibits executive agencies from acquiring or using adversary-developed AI—except in narrow cases such as research, counterterrorism, or mission-critical needs.
• Establishes a delisting process for companies that can demonstrate they are free from foreign adversary control or influence.

 

“Artificial intelligence controlled by foreign adversaries poses a direct threat to our national security, our data, and our government operations,” said Ranking Member Raja Krishnamoorthi. “We cannot allow hostile regimes to embed their code in our most sensitive systems. This bipartisan legislation will create a clear firewall between foreign adversary AI and the U.S. government, protecting our institutions and the American people. Chinese, Russian, and other adversary AI systems simply do not belong on government devices, and certainly shouldn’t be entrusted with government data.”

Senator Rick Scott said, “The Communist Chinese regime will use any means necessary to spy, steal, and undermine the United States, and as AI technology advances, we must do more to protect our national security and stop adversarial regimes from using technology against us. With clear evidence that China can have access to U.S. user data on AI systems, it’s absolutely insane for our own federal agencies to be using these dangerous platforms and subject our government to Beijing’s control. Our No Adversarial AI Act will stop this direct threat to our national security and keep the American government’s sensitive data out of enemy hands.”

The legislation marks a major action in the Select Committee’s AI campaign, which aims to secure U.S. AI supply chains, enforce robust export controls, and ensure American innovation does not fuel authoritarian surveillance or military systems abroad.

 

Today’s hearing and legislation continues the series of new proposals and messaging the Committee will roll out this summer to confront the CCP’s exploitation of U.S. innovation and prevent American technology from fueling Beijing’s AI ambitions.