“Dream School” vs. Harsh Realities: Comparing Jeff Selingo’s Hopeful Guide to the Critical Work of Gary Roth and Peter Cappelli

 Jeff Selingo’s Dream School: Finding the College That’s Right for You arrives this September with an uplifting premise: students and families can reframe their college search by looking beyond brand-name schools and toward institutions that truly match their needs, values, and goals. It’s a hopeful, user-friendly guidebook for navigating a system in crisis.

But how does this vision compare to more critical takes on higher education, like Gary Roth’s The Educated Underclass or Peter Cappelli’s Will College Pay Off? These books don’t offer roadmaps—they offer warnings.

Together, these three works highlight the gap between the dream of higher education and its troubling socioeconomic realities.

Jeff Selingo: Navigating Within the System

Selingo’s Dream School leans into optimism. Drawing on years of reporting and interviews, he offers practical tools to help families think more holistically about fit, outcomes, and experience. He acknowledges the pressures of student debt and market uncertainty, but ultimately believes that better choices can lead to better results. His book is about informed agency: using available resources to make strategic decisions in a system that still—despite its flaws—offers life-changing opportunities.

Importantly, Selingo writes for a very different audience than Roth or Cappelli. His core readers are middle- and upper-middle-class families, high school counselors, and education-minded parents who are already invested in the idea of college. His book is not a systemic critique—it’s a self-help manual for those trying to optimize their place within the system. He assumes readers have at least some cultural capital, if not financial capital, to navigate the process.

That contrasts sharply with Roth’s and Cappelli’s work, which more directly speaks to broader questions of inequality, economic risk, and the failure of higher education to deliver on its promises for the working class and lower-middle class.

Gary Roth: Education as Class Reproduction

Gary Roth’s The Educated Underclass: Students and the False Promise of Social Mobility tells a darker story. For Roth, the U.S. higher education system has become a mechanism for class reproduction, not mobility. Degrees no longer guarantee a middle-class life. Many graduates enter an economy saturated with credentialed labor and devalued degrees, especially in the humanities and social sciences. Roth argues that working-class and first-generation students are often funneled into less selective schools that provide limited return on investment while saddling them with debt.

Roth’s educated underclass is not a group of empowered dreamers, but of frustrated and underemployed degree-holders. His is a structural critique: the system is rigged to absorb ambition but deny reward. From that angle, Dream School could be seen as encouraging students to better decorate their cages, not escape them.

Peter Cappelli: A Risky Bet in a Shifting Market

Peter Cappelli’s Will College Pay Off? occupies a middle ground between Selingo’s optimism and Roth’s pessimism. Cappelli, a labor economist at the Wharton School, unpacks the complex relationship between degrees and economic outcomes. He emphasizes that some degrees from some institutions in some fields pay off—but the variability is enormous, and the risk increasingly falls on students and families.

Cappelli also warns that the job market is no longer tightly aligned with higher education. Employers want experience and specific skills, not just credentials. In this climate, college becomes a speculative investment with uncertain return, especially for students who choose the wrong major, drop out, or attend low-performing institutions.

Cappelli would likely agree with Selingo’s emphasis on “fit” and outcomes, but caution that even the best-laid plans can be undone by macroeconomic forces and institutional failures. His argument underscores the need for stronger public data, better advising, and more employer accountability.

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Competing Visions of the College Experience

Author	Core Message	Systemic Critique	Hope Offered	Primary Audience
Jeff Selingo	Find the school that fits you best	Mild	Yes – through smarter choices	College-bound middle- and upper-middle-class families
Gary Roth	The system reproduces inequality	Strong	No – the system is broken	Working-class students, critical scholars
Peter Cappelli	College may or may not pay off – it’s a gamble	Moderate	Conditional – depends on strategy and luck	Policymakers, economists, pragmatic families

Final Thoughts: Hope, Strategy, or Exit?

Dream School provides an encouraging map for families still trying to believe in the American higher education promise. But Roth and Cappelli serve as stark reminders that the terrain is treacherous—and for many, the dream may already be out of reach.

Jeff Selingo offers hope within the system, assuming the reader has the resources to navigate it. Gary Roth questions the system’s core legitimacy. Peter Cappelli urges caution and calculation. Together, these authors paint a more complete picture of what college means in 21st-century America: a dream for some, a trap for others, and a high-stakes gamble for nearly everyone else.

Sources:
Jeff Selingo, Dream School (2025)
Gary Roth, The Educated Underclass (2020)
Peter Cappelli, Will College Pay Off? (2015)
National Center for Education Statistics, College Scorecard
Federal Reserve Bank reports on student debt and labor outcomes

I Did Everything Right. And I’m Still Paying for a Degree I Never Got (Chamberlain School of Nursing- Single Mom)

In 2010, I was a mom-to-be with one child already at home and a marriage quietly unraveling. I knew I had to secure a future for my children and myself. So, while pregnant with my second child, I made the leap and enrolled in nursing school. I borrowed around $30,000 in federal student loans to earn my associate degree in nursing, graduated, passed my boards, and began working immediately. For a while, things felt like they were on track.

By 2016, I was encouraged to advance my education and pursue my BSN. That’s when I heard about Chamberlain University. It sounded like the perfect fit — I was told I could finish in as little as six months, that I’d only pay one semester at a time, and that there would be no out-of-pocket costs. The admissions team made it sound like a streamlined path forward. It wasn’t.

Eighteen months later, I was nowhere near graduation, and my debt had ballooned by another $45,000, bringing my total student loan balance to $75,000 — and I still didn’t have a degree. Every time I asked how close I was to finishing, I was told “just another semester or two.” The promises felt endless, vague, and increasingly disheartening.

What’s worse: before I even began the program, I had emailed asking about credentialing in my state and clinical eligibility. The response I got was delayed and full of mixed messages. One advisor assured me they were “working through compliance,” but I was never given a definitive answer. That means I was never sure the clinicals I would complete — or the degree itself — would even be recognized by my state’s Board of Nursing. That ambiguity is one of many red flags I flagged in my Borrower Defense application.

By 2018, I had enough. I was exhausted by the emotional and financial toll and withdrew from the program just a few classes short of completing my BSN.

Since then, I’ve been steadily working as a nurse, raising my kids, and doing what so many borrowers do — making monthly payments while watching the interest grow faster than I could keep up. I never missed payments. I never defaulted. But it still didn’t feel like progress.

Then this year, I finally decided to buy a home — something I never thought possible as a single mom buried in debt. I was approved and in the final stages of closing. But when my lender pulled an updated credit report, a new collection for $1,115 had mysteriously appeared. It was from Chamberlain.

This debt had never shown up before. It wasn’t on my May report, but suddenly it showed up in June — just two months before it was scheduled to fall off my credit report entirely (August, 2025). With that, my mortgage approval was revoked.

I had the option to pay it off. But honestly? I couldn’t stomach paying another cent to a school that left me with no degree, unclear clinical credentials, and a mountain of debt. So I let the home go.

In the meantime, I’ve discovered resources I wish I’d known about years ago. I submitted an application for Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF) — something I assumed I wasn’t eligible for because I was on a standard repayment plan. But I’ve now been told I have 144 qualifying payments on my original loans and around 70 qualifying months on the second set tied to Chamberlain. I'm now working on certifying my employment to formalize that progress. One where I have had 10, yes 10 failed submissions due to silly clerical errors.

I also submitted a Borrower Defense to Repayment application — twice. The first time, I felt unsure. The second time, I attached emails and evidence showing the misleading guidance, false promises about timelines and costs, and unclear accreditation issues. I now believe my application is materially complete, without any assurances or timeline. Promises from others shared experiences that this process will in fact take me years if not decades. With no legal representation, or protections like the earlier class action members. Feeling alone, and kind of like a loser. I just wish I had known about it sooner.

I know my case might be denied. I know this might take months — or years- or decades. But I’m not giving up. Because this isn’t just my story. It’s the story of so many of us who tried to do everything right… and are still paying for it.

The Truth About Degrees, Debt, and Why You’re Always Chasing the Next Credential (Glen McGhee)

A System Designed to Keep You in Debt

If you're in college right now, you’ve probably heard that getting a degree is the key to success. But have you noticed something strange? Everyone seems to need more and more education just to get the same kinds of jobs. A high school diploma used to be enough. Then it was a bachelor’s degree. Now people need master’s degrees—and still struggle to get hired.

Meanwhile, tuition keeps going up. Student debt in the U.S. has reached over $1.7 trillion, affecting more than 43 million people. Many of us are borrowing tens of thousands of dollars just to get a shot at a decent job. Some never escape this debt, even decades later.

This isn't just bad luck. It's a system, and it works really well—for banks, employers, and universities. But not for you.

Credentials Are the New Chains

A few critical thinkers—like economist Michael Hudson and philosopher Maurizio Lazzarato—have a name for what’s happening: debt peonage. That’s a fancy way of saying people are trapped in endless debt, not because they’re lazy or irresponsible, but because the system is built to keep them there.

They argue that education has been turned into a machine for generating debt. It’s not just about learning anymore—it’s about taking on loans you’ll be paying off for decades, often for jobs that don’t even require the degree you earned.

This debt doesn’t just affect your bank account—it shapes your whole life. It influences the jobs you take, how much you’re paid, whether you can move, start a family, or speak up at work. In other words, debt is a tool of control.

More School, More Debt, Less Power

There’s a name for what's happening with degrees: credential inflation. It means that as more people earn degrees, employers keep raising the bar—asking for more education, even if the job doesn’t really need it.

This works out great for employers. You need the job to pay off your loans. You’re less likely to ask for higher wages or better conditions. You’re easier to control. Think about it. When you owe $38,000 in student loans, can you really afford to quit your job? Or turn down unpaid internships? Or fight back when you’re treated unfairly?

That’s not a bug in the system—it’s the point.

The Rise of the Academic Underclass

It doesn’t stop with students. Many of your professors and TAs are also part of what we might call the academic precariat—people with master’s or even PhDs who are stuck working part-time for low pay, no benefits, and no job security.

These are the folks who teach your classes, grade your papers, and write your recommendation letters—while living paycheck to paycheck and often on government assistance. They’re the most educated people in the country—and many of them can’t afford basic needs.

Why does this happen? Because colleges don’t have to pay them fairly. There are more PhDs than full-time teaching jobs, so universities keep a huge pool of low-paid instructors they can use whenever they want. That’s called a “standing reserve” of labor—and it's incredibly profitable for institutions.

The Internship Trap

And then there are unpaid internships—another form of credential inflation. Now, just having a degree isn’t enough. You also need “experience.” But that experience is often unpaid, meaning students (and their families) cover the cost of working for free.

This second wave of credential inflation hits working-class students hardest. Many can’t afford to work unpaid jobs, pay rent, and take classes at the same time. So the system ends up rewarding privilege and punishing struggle—again.

And here’s the kicker: unpaid interns often don’t even get jobs. Studies show people who never interned sometimes do just as well—or better.

Is There Another Way?

You might be thinking: but aren’t degrees still worth it? Isn’t this just the way things work?

That’s exactly what the system wants you to believe. And while it’s true that some education leads to better job outcomes, it’s also true that the cost is rising faster than the benefit. And the system is rigged to keep you in debt no matter what.

So what can we do? First, question the system, not yourself. If you’re overwhelmed by debt or struggling to find a job, you’re not failing—the system is. Second, recognize that individual solutions—like working harder, studying longer, or networking more—won’t fix a structural problem. What we’re facing is a system that uses debt to control, not to educate.

Final Thought

Degrees should be tools for empowerment, not chains of obligation. But as long as education is tied to debt, exploitation, and ever-escalating credential requirements, it will remain part of a system designed to extract—not uplift.

It’s time to stop asking how can I survive this system and start asking why does this system exist at all?

Los Angeles Community College District Claims to Be Facing State Takeover Amid Allegations of Fraud and Censorship in LAVC Media Arts Department (LACCD Whistleblower)

The Los Angeles Community College District (LACCD) may be facing state takeover within two years due to overextended hiring and budget mismanagement, as discussed during a May 2025 meeting of the Los Angeles Valley College (LAVC) Academic Senate. Faculty warned that the looming financial crisis could result in mass layoffs—including tenured staff—and sweeping program cuts.

Start Minutes LAVC Academic Senate

“R. Christian-Brougham: other campuses have brand new presidents doing strange things. If we don’t do things differently as a district, from the mouth of the president in two years we’ll be bankrupt and go into negative.
 Chancellor has responsibility
C. Sustin  asks for confirmation that it is the Chancellor that can and should step in to curb campus budgets and hirings.
R. Christian-Brougham: the Chancellor bears responsibility, but in the takeover scenario, the Board of Trustees – all of them – would get fired
E. Perez: which happened in San Francisco
C. Sustin: hiring is in the purview of campuses, so they can’t directly determine job positions that move forward?
R. Christian-Brougham: Chancellor and BoT could step in and fire the Campus Presidents, though.
E. Perez: in next consultation with Chancellor, bringing this up.
C. Maddren: Gribbons is not sitting back; he’s acting laterally and going upward
E. Thornton: looping back to the example of City College of San Francisco: when the takeover happened there the reductions in force extended to multiple long-since-tenured members of a number of disciplines, including English. For this and so many other reasons, it was a reign of terror sort of situation. So we really need to push the Chancellor.”

End Minutes Academic Senate

https://go.boarddocs.com/ca/laccd/Board.nsf/vpublic?open#

The dire financial outlook comes as new scrutiny falls on LAVC’s Media Arts Department, already under fire for years of alleged fraud, resume fabrication, and manipulation of public perception. Central to these concerns is the department’s chair, Eric Swelstad, who also oversees a $40,000 Hollywood Foreign Press Association (Golden Globe) grant for LAVC students—a role now drawing sharp criticism in light of mounting questions about his credentials and conduct.

Over the past two months, a troubling wave of digital censorship has quietly erased years of documented allegations. In May 2025, nearly two years’ worth of investigative reporting—comprising emails, legal filings, and accreditation complaints—were scrubbed from the independent news site IndyBay. The removed content accused Swelstad of deceiving students and the public for over two decades about the quality and viability of the Media Arts program, as well as about his own professional qualifications.

In June 2025, a negative student review about Swelstad—posted by a disabled student—disappeared from Rate My Professor. These incidents form part of what appears to be a years-long campaign of online reputation management and public deception.

An AI-driven analysis of Rate My Professor entries for long-serving Media Arts faculty—including Swelstad, Arantxa Rodriguez, Chad Sustin, Dan Watanabe, and Jason Beaton—suggests that the majority of positive reviews were written by a single individual or a small group. The analysis cited "Identical Phrasing Across Profiles," "Unusually Consistent Tag Patterns," and a "Homogeneous Tone and Style" as evidence:

“It is very likely that many (possibly a majority) of the positive reviews across these faculty pages were written by one person or a small group using similar templates, tone, and strategy… The presence of clearly distinct voices, especially in the negative reviews, shows that not all content comes from the same source.”

A now-deleted IndyBay article also revealed emails dating back to 2016 between LAVC students and Los Angeles Daily News journalist Dana Bartholomew, who reportedly received detailed complaints from at least a dozen students—but failed to publish the story. Instead, Bartholomew later authored two glowing articles featuring Swelstad and celebrating the approval of LAVC’s $78.5 million Valley Academic and Cultural Center:

* *"L.A. Valley College’s new performing arts center may be put on hold as costs rise,"* Dana Bartholomew, August 28, 2017.

  [https://www.dailynews.com/2016/08/09/la-valley-colleges-new-performing-arts-center-may-be-put-on-hold-as-costs-rise/amp/](https://www.dailynews.com/2016/08/09/la-valley-colleges-new-performing-arts-center-may-be-put-on-hold-as-costs-rise/amp/)

* *"L.A. Valley College’s $78.5-million arts complex approved in dramatic downtown vote,"* Dana Bartholomew, August 11, 2016.
  [https://www.dailynews.com/2016/08/11/la-valley-colleges-785-million-arts-complex-approved-in-dramatic-downtown-vote/](https://www.dailynews.com/2016/08/11/la-valley-colleges-785-million-arts-complex-approved-in-dramatic-downtown-vote/)

Among the most explosive allegations is that Swelstad misrepresented himself as a member of the Writer’s Guild of America (WGA), a claim contradicted by official WGA-West membership records, according to another redacted IndyBay report.

This appears to be the tip of the iceberg according to other also scrubbed IndyBay articles

Other questionable appointments, payments, and student ‘success stories’ in the Los Angeles Valley College Media Arts Department include:

* **Jo Ann Rivas**, a YouTube personality and former Building Oversight Committee member, was paid as a trainer and presenter despite reportedly only working as a casting assistant on the LAVC student-produced film *Canaan Land*.

(https://transparentcalifornia.com/salaries/2018/los-angeles-district/jo-ann-rivas/)

* **Robert Reber**, a student filmmaker, was paid as a cinematography expert.

(https://transparentcalifornia.com/salaries/2017/los-angeles-district/robert-reber/)

* **Diana Deville**, a radio host and LAVC alumna with media credits, served as Unit Production Manager on *Canaan Land*, but her resume claims high-profile studio affiliations including DreamWorks, MGM, and OWN.

(https://www.tnentertainment.com/directory/view/diana-deville-13338)

The film *Canaan Land*, made by LAVC Media Arts students, has itself raised eyebrows. Filmmaker Richard Rossi claimed that both it and his earlier student film *Clemente* had received personal endorsements from the late Pope Francis. These assertions were echoed on *Canaan Land*'s GoFundMe page, prompting public denials and clarifications from the Vatican in *The Washington Post* and *New York Post*:

[https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/early-lead/wp/2017/08/17/after-july-miracle-pope-francis-reportedly-moves-roberto-clemente-closer-to-sainthood/]
* [https://nypost.com/2017/08/17/the-complicated-battle-over-roberto-clementes-sainthood/]

Censorship efforts appear to have intensified following the publication of a now-removed article advising students how to apply for student loan discharge based on misleading or fraudulent education at LAVC’s Media Arts Department. If successful, such filings could expose the department—and the district—to financial liability.

But the highest-profile financial concern is the 2020 establishment of the **Hollywood Foreign Press Association’s $40,000 grant** for LAVC Media Arts students, administered by Swelstad:

* [HFPA Endowed Scholarship Announcement (PDF)](https://www.lavc.edu/sites/lavc.edu/files/2022-08/lavc_press_release-hfpa-endowed-scholarship-for-lavc-film-tv-students.pdf)
* [LAVC Grant History Document](https://services.laccd.edu/districtsite/Accreditation/lavc/Standard%20IVA/IVA1-02_Grants_History.pdf)

As a disreputable academic administrator with a documented history of professional fraud spanning two decades and multiple student success stories that aren’t, future grant donors may reconsider supporting the Department programs – further pushing the Los Angeles Valley College and by extension the district as a whole towards financial insolvency. 

“Drowning It in the Bathtub”: How the 2025 U.S. Department of Education Reorganization Fulfills Grover Norquist’s Dream (Glen McGhee)

In 2001, conservative activist Grover Norquist declared that his goal was to shrink government “to the size where I can drag it into the bathroom and drown it in the bathtub.” More than two decades later, under the leadership of Secretary Linda McMahon, the U.S. Department of Education’s March 2025 reorganization delivers on that radical vision—not with fire and fury, but with vacancies, ambiguity, and quiet institutional collapse.

Vacant Seats, Hollow Power

With dozens of senior leadership roles left vacant, enforcement functions gutted, and policymaking handed over to political allies and industry insiders, the Department no longer resembles a federal agency tasked with protecting students and public investment. Instead, it has become a hollowed-out vessel primed for deregulation, privatization, and corporate exploitation.

The new organizational chart is littered with the word “VACANT.” From Chiefs of Staff and Deputy Assistant Secretaries to senior advisors in enforcement, civil rights, and postsecondary education, entire divisions have been effectively immobilized. The Office of Civil Rights is barely staffed at the top. The Rehabilitation Services Administration is leaderless. The General Counsel’s office lacks oversight in key regulatory areas. This is not streamlining—it is strategic self-sabotage.

Federal Student Aid (FSA), overseeing over $1.5 trillion in loans, is run by an acting chief. Critical offices such as the Office of Postsecondary Education (OPE) are fragmented, missing key leadership across multiple branches—especially those charged with accreditation, innovation, and borrower protections.

The Kent Controversy: A Symptom of Systemic Rot

The collapse of federal oversight is not only evident in the vacancies—it is also embodied in controversial political appointments. As education policy watchdog David Halperin has reported, the Trump administration’s nominee for Under Secretary of Education, Nicholas Kent, epitomizes the revolving door between the Department of Education and the for-profit college industry.

Kent’s career includes roles at Education Affiliates, which in 2015 paid $13 million to settle a Department of Justice case involving false claims for federal student aid, and later at Career Education Colleges and Universities (CECU), the lobbying group for the for-profit college sector. Under Kent’s policy leadership at CECU, the organization actively fought against borrower defense rules, gainful employment regulations, and other safeguards meant to protect students from exploitative educational institutions.

Despite this record, the Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions (HELP) Committee advanced Kent’s nomination on May 22, 2025, in a party-line 12–11 vote—without a hearing. HELP Ranking Member Bernie Sanders objected, saying, “In my view, we should not be confirming the former lobbyist that represented for-profit colleges.” Advocates, including Halperin and six education justice organizations, sent a letter to Chairman Bill Cassidy calling for public scrutiny of Kent’s background and the Trump administration’s destructive higher education agenda.

Among their concerns are the elimination of key enforcement staff and research arms at the Department, the cancellation of ongoing research contracts, the rollback of borrower defense and gainful employment protections, the $37 million fine reversal against Grand Canyon University for deceptive practices, and the Department’s silence on accreditation reform and oversight of predatory schools. These developments, the letter argued, mark a decisive return to the era of unchecked corporate education—where taxpayer dollars are funneled to dubious institutions and students are left with mountains of debt and worthless credentials.

“Mission Accomplished” for the Privatization Movement

This version of the Department of Education, stripped of its regulatory muscle and stocked with industry sympathizers, is not an accident. It’s the culmination of decades of libertarian, neoliberal, and religious-right agitation to disempower public education. The policy pipeline now flows directly from organizations like the Heritage Foundation and ALEC to appointed officials with deep ties to the industries they were once charged with policing.

Rather than serving the public, the department’s primary role now appears to be facilitating the private sector’s conquest of higher education—through deregulation, outsourcing, and the erosion of civil rights protections.

A Shrinking Federal Presence, an Expanding Crisis

The consequences are far-reaching. Marginalized students—Black, brown, low-income, first-generation, disabled—depend disproportionately on federal guarantees, oversight, and funding. As these protections recede, so too does their access to meaningful educational opportunity. Instead, they are increasingly funneled into high-debt, low-return programs or shut out entirely.

Meanwhile, the political vacuum left by this strategic dismantling is being filled by corporate actors, right-wing religious institutions, and profit-seeking "ed-tech" startups. The dream of public education as a democratic equalizer is being replaced by a market of extraction and exploitation.

The Dream Realized

Grover Norquist’s fantasy of drowning the government has now been partially fulfilled in the U.S. Department of Education. What remains is an agency in name only—a shell that no longer enforces its core mission. In the name of efficiency and deregulation, the department has abandoned millions of students and ceded its authority to those who view education as a commodity rather than a public right.

The danger now is not only what’s been lost, but what is being built in its place. The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to monitor the ongoing capture of education policy and fight for a system that serves students, not shareholders.

Sources:

U.S. Department of Education, Organizational Chart, March 17, 2025
David Halperin, Republic Report, “The Senate Shouldn’t Vote on Trump Higher Education Pick without a Hearing”
U.S. Department of Justice press releases on Education Affiliates
Politico Pro Education updates, May 2025
Senate HELP Committee voting record, May 22, 2025
Heritage Foundation and CECU policy recommendations

Science-Based Climate Change Denial: Manufacturing Doubt in the Age of Collapse

Despite overwhelming scientific consensus that human activity—especially the burning of fossil fuels—is the primary driver of climate change, a sophisticated form of climate change denial persists, often cloaked in the language and authority of science itself. This “science-based” climate change denial does not simply reject climate science outright but instead cherry-picks data, emphasizes uncertainties, and amplifies marginal scientific viewpoints to cast doubt on established facts. At the center of this strategy are credentialed scientists, industry-funded think tanks, and academic institutions that provide intellectual cover for the continued exploitation of fossil fuels.

This form of denialism has proved highly effective in delaying climate action, muddying public understanding, and influencing policy—especially in the United States, where partisan politics, neoliberal economic ideology, and extractive capitalism intersect.

The Evolution of Denialism

In the 1990s, outright climate change denial was more common, with prominent voices denying that the Earth was warming or that human activity played any role. But as evidence mounted—through rising global temperatures, melting ice caps, and increasingly destructive weather events—climate denial evolved. Rather than deny global warming altogether, many so-called skeptics now argue that climate models are unreliable, that warming is not necessarily dangerous, or that adaptation is more cost-effective than mitigation.

This shift gave rise to a subtler, more insidious strategy: science-based denial. Unlike conspiracy theories or fringe pseudoscience, this form of denial often involves credentialed experts, peer-reviewed articles (sometimes in low-quality or ideologically driven journals), and selective interpretation of data to mislead the public and stall regulatory action.

Scientists for Hire

Think tanks like the Heartland Institute, Cato Institute, and George C. Marshall Institute have employed scientists with impressive resumes to lend credibility to denialist arguments. Figures like Willie Soon, an astrophysicist at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics, have received funding from fossil fuel interests like ExxonMobil and Southern Company while publishing papers that downplay human contributions to climate change. These financial ties are often undisclosed or downplayed, even though they present a clear conflict of interest.

In some cases, these scientists present themselves as heroic dissenters—mavericks standing up against a corrupt, alarmist scientific establishment. Their arguments are rarely about disproving the reality of climate change, but instead about inflating uncertainties, misrepresenting data, or offering misleading counter-examples that are unrepresentative of broader trends.

The Role of Higher Education

Elite universities and academic journals have sometimes unwittingly enabled science-based denial by embracing a culture of both-sides-ism and neutrality in the face of coordinated disinformation campaigns. In the name of academic freedom, universities have tolerated or even elevated voices that promote denialist rhetoric under the guise of “healthy skepticism.”

Institutions like George Mason University’s Mercatus Center and Stanford University’s Hoover Institution have provided intellectual homes for scholars funded by fossil fuel interests. These institutions maintain the veneer of academic legitimacy while promoting deregulatory, pro-fossil fuel policy agendas.

Furthermore, federal and state funding for climate research has become increasingly politicized, especially under Republican administrations. Under the Trump administration (2017–2021), federal agencies were directed to scrub climate change from reports and suppress scientific findings. Even now, with the potential return of Trump-style governance, science-based denialists are preparing for a resurgence.

Strategic Misinformation

Climate denial campaigns use sophisticated media strategies to manipulate public opinion. Through platforms like Fox News, right-wing podcasts, and social media channels, science-based denial is disseminated to millions. The denialists often invoke “Climategate”—a 2009 scandal involving hacked emails from climate scientists—as proof of corruption in climate science, despite multiple investigations clearing the scientists of wrongdoing.

The playbook is familiar: exaggerate uncertainty, cherry-pick cold weather events, blame solar activity, and discredit prominent climate scientists like Michael Mann or James Hansen. The public, already overwhelmed with crises, becomes confused, disoriented, or apathetic.

Consequences and Countermeasures

The consequences of science-based climate denial are devastating. Delayed action has led to rising sea levels, record heatwaves, agricultural disruption, and biodiversity collapse. Vulnerable communities, particularly in the Global South and marginalized communities in the U.S., bear the brunt of the damage.

To counter this, scholars and educators must move beyond “debating” denialists and instead expose the ideological and financial underpinnings of their arguments. As Naomi Oreskes and Erik Conway showed in Merchants of Doubt, denialism is not a scientific disagreement—it is a political and economic strategy designed to protect powerful interests.

The Higher Education Inquirer supports open scientific inquiry, but not at the expense of truth or the planet. Universities, journalists, and the public must hold denialists accountable and challenge the structures that enable them—especially those in academic robes who lend their credentials to oil-funded propaganda.

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Reliable Sources and Further Reading:

• Oreskes, Naomi, and Erik M. Conway. Merchants of Doubt. Bloomsbury Press, 2010.

• Brulle, Robert J. “Institutionalizing delay: foundation funding and the creation of U.S. climate change counter-movement organizations.” Climatic Change, vol. 122, no. 4, 2014, pp. 681–694.

• Dunlap, Riley E., and Aaron M. McCright. “Organized climate change denial.” The Oxford Handbook of Climate Change and Society, Oxford University Press, 2011.

• Mann, Michael E. The New Climate War: The Fight to Take Back Our Planet. PublicAffairs, 2021.

• Union of Concerned Scientists. "The Climate Deception Dossiers." 2015. https://www.ucsusa.org/resources/climate-deception-dossiers

• Inside Climate News. “Exxon: The Road Not Taken.” https://insideclimatenews.org/news/15092015/exxon-the-road-not-taken/

• Climate Investigations Center. “Tracking the Climate Denial Machine.” https://climateinvestigations.org

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For inquiries, reprint permissions, or to contribute your own investigations, contact The Higher Education Inquirer at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu.

Future Scenarios: A Post-College America (Glen McGhee)

By 2035, the traditional American college system may be a relic of the past. A variety of forces—economic, technological, demographic, and cultural—are converging to transform the landscape of higher learning. Grounded in Papenhausen's cyclical model of institutional change, current data and trends suggest a plausible future in which college campuses no longer serve as the central hubs of postsecondary education. Instead, a more fragmented, skills-based, and economically integrated system may rise in its place.

Since 2010, college enrollment in the U.S. has declined by 8.5%, with more than a million fewer students than before the COVID-19 pandemic. Over 80 colleges have closed or merged since 2020, and many experts forecast a sharp acceleration in closures, especially as the so-called “demographic cliff” reduces the pool of traditional-age college students. The Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia projects a potential 142% increase in annual college closures by the end of the decade.

This institutional unraveling is not solely demographic. Federal disinvestment in research and financial aid, rising tuition (up more than 1,500% since the late 1970s), and increasing underemployment among recent graduates are undermining the perceived and actual value of a college degree. Emerging technologies, particularly AI, are rapidly changing the ways people learn and the skills employers seek. Meanwhile, the proliferation of fake degrees and credential fraud further erodes trust in conventional academic institutions.

In response to these destabilizing trends, four future scenarios offer possible replacements for the traditional college system. Each reflects different combinations of technological advancement, labor market shifts, and institutional evolution.

The Corporate Academy Landscape envisions a future in which large companies like Google, Amazon, and IBM take the lead in educating the workforce. Building on existing certificate programs, these corporations establish their own academies, offering industry-aligned training and credentials. Apprenticeships and on-the-job learning become the primary paths to employment, with digital badges and blockchain-secured micro-credentials replacing degrees. Corporate campuses cluster in major urban centers, while rural areas develop niche training programs related to local industries such as agriculture and renewable energy.

In The Distributed Learning Networks scenario, education becomes fully decentralized. Instead of enrolling in a single institution, learners access personalized instruction through AI-powered platforms, community-based workshops, and online mentorships. Local libraries, maker spaces, and co-working hubs evolve into core educational environments. Learning is assessed through portfolios and real-world projects rather than grades or standardized exams. Regional expertise clusters develop organically, especially in smaller cities and towns with existing community infrastructure.

The Guild Renaissance looks to the past to shape the future. Modeled on pre-industrial apprenticeship systems, professional guilds re-emerge as gatekeepers of career development. These organizations handle training, credentialing, and job placement in sectors such as healthcare, construction, technology, and the arts. Hierarchical systems guide individuals from novice to expert, and regional economies specialize around guild-supported industries. Employment becomes tightly integrated with ongoing learning, minimizing the traditional gap between school and work.

Finally, The Hybrid Workplace University scenario grows out of the shift to remote and hybrid work. With more than one-third of workers expected to remain partially remote, workplaces themselves become learning environments. Education is embedded in professional workflows through VR training, modular courses, and flexible scheduling. As access to learning becomes geographically unrestricted, rural and underpopulated areas may see renewed vitality as remote workers seek lower-cost, higher-quality living environments.

Despite their differences, these scenarios share several transformational themes. Economically, resources formerly directed toward campus infrastructure are redirected toward skills training, research hubs, and community development. Culturally, the notion of lifelong learning becomes normalized, and credentials become more transparent, practical, and verifiable. Socially, traditional notions of campus life give way to professional and civic identity tied to industry specialization or community engagement.

The evolution of quality assurance is also noteworthy. Traditional accreditation may give way to employer-driven standards, market-based performance indicators, and digital verification technologies. Blockchain and competency-based evaluations offer more direct and trustworthy assessments of ability and readiness for employment.

Geographically, these changes will reshape communities in different ways. Former college towns must navigate economic transitions, potentially reinventing themselves as hubs for innovation or remote work. Urban areas may thrive as centers of corporate education and research. Rural regions may find new purpose through specialized training programs aligned with local resources and culture.

If these trends continue, the benefits could be substantial: reduced student debt, more direct paths to employment, faster innovation, and greater regional economic diversity. But challenges remain. The loss of traditional university research infrastructure may hinder long-term scientific progress. Access to elite training may increasingly depend on corporate affiliation, potentially limiting social mobility and excluding those without early access to professional networks. The liberal arts and humanities—once central to American higher education—may struggle to find footing in this new paradigm.

In the broad view, these emerging models reflect a shift away from institutional prestige and toward demonstrable competence. The change is not only educational but societal, redefining what it means to learn, to work, and to belong. Whether this transformation leads to a more inclusive and efficient system or deepens existing inequities will depend on how these new models are regulated, supported, and adapted to public needs.

By 2035, the American educational system may no longer be anchored to age-segregated campuses and debt-financed degrees. Instead, it may revolve around pragmatic, lifelong pathways—deeply integrated with the labor market, shaped by regional strengths, and responsive to continuous technological change.

Sources:

1. National Student Clearinghouse Research Center

2. U.S. Department of Education

3. Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia
   4–5. National Center for Education Statistics
   6–9. Bureau of Labor Statistics, Consumer Price Index
   10–11. Federal Reserve Bank of New York
   12–13. McKinsey & Co., World Economic Forum
   14–16. U.S. Department of Justice, Accrediting Agencies
   17–19. Company Reports (Google, IBM, Amazon, Apple)
   20–21. U.S. Department of Labor
   22–24. Credential Engine, World Bank, Blockchain in Education Conference

4. Burning Glass Institute
   26–29. EdTech Reports, OECD, Pew Research Center
   30–31. National Apprenticeship Survey
   32–34. Gallup, Stanford Remote Work Project

5. UNESCO Blockchain for Education Report

Graduate Education is Broken

Graduate education in the United States—especially doctoral education—is fundamentally broken. Sold as a noble pursuit of truth and a gateway to the ivory tower, the Ph.D. has become, for many, a pipeline into debt, precarious employment, and psychological distress. Despite the lofty ideals marketed by universities and celebrated in faculty speeches, the numbers and lived experiences of graduates tell a darker, more sobering story.

According to Leaving Academia by Christopher L. Caterine, only 7 percent of all doctoral students will become tenure-track professors. That statistic, quietly acknowledged in graduate lounges and whispered among disillusioned postdocs, is not an anomaly. It is the grim baseline. The academic system continues to lure thousands into graduate programs every year, fully aware that 93 percent of them will not land the career they were explicitly or implicitly promised.

In his 2015 book The Graduate School Mess, Columbia University professor Leonard Cassuto calls out the structural failures of the Ph.D. pipeline—citing inadequate career preparation, mentorship dysfunction, and the willful neglect of graduate outcomes. Graduate programs serve the needs of faculty and institutions far more than they serve the students themselves. The labor of graduate students powers undergraduate education and research output, but their futures are sacrificed to the prestige economy of the university.

Karen Kelsky, in her influential guide The Professor Is In, goes even further. Drawing on years of advising graduate students and job seekers, she pulls no punches: the academic job market is brutal, and the culture within graduate school is often toxic—especially for women, people of color, and those without financial safety nets. Kelsky's consulting business exists because so many Ph.D.s are desperate to claw their way out of a system that promised them intellectual fulfillment and delivered exploitation instead.

Making matters worse is the massive oversupply of labor, which has been quietly sustained by an influx of international students. Many of the remaining full-time academic positions—not to mention a growing number of graduate student slots—are held by international labor. These students and scholars often enter the system under the false assumption that hard work and merit will lead to a stable career in academia. In reality, their presence—exploited under the banner of "global academic exchange"—exacerbates the labor surplus, keeping wages low and competition high. It’s not their fault—it’s the system’s design.

Enter Cheeky Scientist, a consulting service built to help Ph.D.s pivot into industry. What was once called "alt-ac" (alternative academic) is now, for most, the main road out. If academia won’t hire you, the logic goes, rebrand yourself for tech, pharma, or finance. Entire cottage industries now exist to rescue doctoral graduates from the wreckage of their academic dreams.

Beyond job prospects lies another ignored reality: financial instability. Emily Roberts, through her platform Personal Finance for Ph.D.s, has helped shine a light on the dire economic situation many doctoral students face. Stipends often fail to meet basic living expenses, especially in cities like New York, Boston, or San Francisco. Few programs offer retirement contributions or basic financial literacy. The result? Many Ph.D.s graduate not just without a job, but with significant debt—especially those who funded earlier education with loans or had to self-finance part of their graduate training.

Roberts’ work underscores that financial precarity begins in the first year of grad school. Her interviews with graduate students reveal the systemic neglect: many rely on food pantries, delay medical care, or take on secret gig work to survive—while their advisors remain oblivious or indifferent.

What we have, then, is a system that overproduces credentials, underprepares people for life outside the academy, and clings to a 20th-century fantasy of academic meritocracy. Doctoral education is not just out of step with the job market—it is actively harmful in many cases.

Meanwhile, universities continue to benefit. The intellectual labor of graduate students and international scholars props up research labs, lecture halls, and college rankings. They are essential, yet disposable. Institutions show little incentive to reduce Ph.D. admissions or offer honest appraisals of job prospects. Why would they? The system works—for them.

Graduate education isn’t merely broken. It’s functioning exactly as designed—for the benefit of the few, at the expense of the many.

It is time for a reckoning.

Older (Desperate) Folks Targeted for Online Robocolleges

In recent years, the profile of student loan borrowers in the United States has shifted dramatically. While student debt is often associated with young adults entering the workforce, a rapidly growing number of older Americans—those aged 50 and above—are carrying significant student loan balances, revealing a troubling new dimension of the nation’s student debt crisis.

As of mid-2025, approximately 7.8 million Americans aged 50 and older hold federal student loan debt, representing about 6% of adults in this age group. Many have borrowed not only for their own education but also to finance their children’s or grandchildren’s schooling. Others have returned to college later in life, seeking new skills or credentials to remain competitive. Yet, these borrowers often face unique challenges that have been exacerbated by the rise of so-called “robocolleges.”

Robocolleges are online institutions that aggressively market to older adults, promising flexible schedules and quick credentials that can lead to better job prospects. However, many of these institutions have come under scrutiny for their low graduation rates, high tuition costs, and poor outcomes for students. Unlike traditional colleges, robocolleges often rely heavily on automated systems and minimal personal support, leaving vulnerable older learners with little guidance about loan obligations or realistic career prospects.

These institutions have played a significant role in trapping many older Americans in unsustainable debt. Borrowers are lured by the promise of upward mobility but frequently end up with degrees that hold limited value in the labor market. The high cost of attendance combined with aggressive recruitment tactics has led many to accumulate tens of thousands of dollars in student loan debt with few prospects for repayment.

Among older borrowers—6.2 million between 50 and 61 years old, and 2.8 million aged 62 or older—the average federal student loan balance for the 50–61 cohort is around $47,000, the highest among all age groups. Around 8% are delinquent on their loans, with median delinquent balances near $11,500. For those over 62, approximately 452,000 are in default and face the threat of Social Security benefit garnishment, though recent government actions have temporarily paused such garnishments.

The debt explosion among older Americans has been dramatic: over the past two decades, the number of borrowers aged 60 and above has increased sixfold, with total debt rising nearly twentyfold. Robocolleges, with their predatory recruitment and inadequate educational outcomes, are a central piece of this puzzle, helping to drive up borrowing without delivering commensurate value.

This growing crisis underscores the urgent need for policy reforms tailored to the realities faced by older borrowers. There must be greater transparency and accountability from robocolleges, stronger consumer protections, and expanded debt relief options that reflect the challenges of late-in-life borrowing. Additionally, educational counseling and financial literacy support designed specifically for older students are crucial.

The student debt crisis in America is no longer only about young adults trying to start their careers—it increasingly jeopardizes the financial security and dignity of older generations. As robocolleges continue to trap vulnerable older learners in cycles of debt, the urgency for reform becomes even clearer.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to investigate and report on this evolving crisis, amplifying the voices of those caught in the crosshairs of an expanding student debt epidemic.

Blue Falcons: Politicians, Government Agencies, and Nonprofits Serve Themselves, Not Those Who Have Served

“Blue Falcon”—military slang for a “Buddy F****r”—refers to someone who betrays their comrades to get ahead. It’s a fitting label for disgraced U.S. Congressman Duncan Hunter, a Marine Corps veteran convicted of misusing campaign funds while cloaking himself in patriotic rhetoric. But Hunter isn’t alone. He’s emblematic of a broader betrayal—one that involves politicians, bureaucrats, predatory schools, and veteran-serving nonprofits. Together, they form an ecosystem where self-interest thrives, and veterans are left behind.

Despite endless platitudes about “supporting our troops,” the systems designed to serve veterans—especially in education—are failing. Two of the most generous and ambitious benefits ever created for veterans, the Post-9/11 GI Bill (PGIB) and Department of Defense Tuition Assistance (TA), are now riddled with waste, abuse, and profiteering. The real beneficiaries aren’t veterans, but an extensive network of for-profit colleges, lobbying firms, and institutions that exploit them.

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The GI Bill and DOD Tuition Assistance: A Pipeline for Predators

The Post-9/11 GI Bill was supposed to be a transformative benefit—a way to reward veterans with the chance to reintegrate, retrain, and succeed in the civilian world. At more than $13 billion annually, it is the single most generous higher education grant program in the country. According to a report highlighted by Derek Newton in Forbes, the GI Bill now costs more than all state scholarships and grants combined and represents half of all Pell Grant spending.

And yet, it isn’t working.

A groundbreaking study from the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER)—conducted by researchers from Texas A&M, the University of Michigan, Dartmouth, William & Mary, and even the U.S. Department of the Treasury—delivers a scathing indictment of the program’s effectiveness. According to the report, veterans who used PGIB benefits actually earned less nine years after separating from the military than peers who didn’t attend college at all. The researchers found:

“The PGIB reduced average annual earnings nine years after separation from the Army by $900 (on a base of $32,000). Under a variety of conservative assumptions, veterans are unlikely to recoup these reduced earnings during their working careers.”

The reason? Too many veterans are enrolling in heavily marketed, low-value schools—institutions that offer little return and often leave students without degrees or meaningful credentials. Veterans from lower-skilled military occupations and those with lower test scores were particularly likely to fall into this trap. These “less advantaged” veterans not only saw worse labor market outcomes but were more likely to spend their GI Bill benefits at for-profit schools with dismal outcomes.

Even worse, the report estimated that the cost to taxpayers for every additional marginal bachelor’s degree produced by PGIB is between $486,000 and $590,000. That’s beyond inefficient—it’s exploitative.

In the Forbes article we put it bluntly:

“This is sad to say, that the GI Bill does not work for many servicemembers, veterans and their families. What's even sadder is that if you drill into the data, to the institutional and program level, it will likely be worse. There are many programs, for-profit and non-profit, that do not work out for servicemembers, veterans, and their families.”

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Tuition Assistance and the DOD’s Open Wallet

The Department of Defense’s Tuition Assistance program also faces exploitation. With few controls, it serves as an open faucet for bad actors who aggressively recruit active-duty service members through deceptive advertising, partnerships with base education offices, and endorsements from shady nonprofits. Just as with the GI Bill, predatory institutions see DOD TA not as an education resource, but as a predictable stream of federal cash.

Military leadership has done little to intervene. The same institutions flagged for fraud and poor outcomes continue to operate freely, bolstered by industry lobbyists and revolving-door influence in Washington.

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Nonprofits and Politicians: Wolves in Patriotic Clothing

The betrayal doesn’t stop with colleges. Many large veteran-serving nonprofits and “military-friendly” initiatives exist more for image than impact. Instead of helping veterans, they prop up harmful systems and launder legitimacy for the very institutions exploiting the military community.

Meanwhile, Congress talks a big game but routinely fails to act. Lawmakers from both parties show up for ribbon cuttings and Veterans Day speeches, but many take campaign donations from subprime colleges and education conglomerates that prey on veterans. They refuse to close known loopholes—like the infamous 90/10 rule—that incentivize for-profit schools to chase GI Bill funds with deceptive tactics.

And all the while, the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA)—underfunded, overburdened, and politically manipulated—struggles to provide the basic services veterans were promised.

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A Sad Reality, and a Call to Action

It’s a bitter irony that programs designed to lift up veterans often lead them into deeper debt, poorer job prospects, and wasted years. The data from NBER, the findings from watchdogs like Derek Newton, and the lived experience of thousands of veterans all point to one conclusion: the Post-9/11 GI Bill, as currently administered, is failing. And so is the broader system around it.

Veterans deserve better. They deserve:

• Strict oversight of predatory colleges and training programs

• Transparency in outcomes for veteran-serving nonprofits

• Accountability from lawmakers and government agencies

• Equitable investment in public and community college options

• A fundamental shift from patriotic lip service to real systemic reform

Until then, the Blue Falcons will continue to circle—posing as allies while feasting on the very benefits veterans fought to earn.

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The Higher Education Inquirer will continue exposing the policies, institutions, and individuals who exploit veterans under the guise of service. If you have insider information or want to share your story, contact us confidentially at gmcghee@aya.yale.edu.

What the Pentagon Doesn’t Want You to See: For-Profit Colleges in the Military-Industrial-Education Complex

[Editor's note: The Higher Education Inquirer has emailed these FOIA documents to ProPublica and the Republic Report.  We will send these documents to any additional media and any individuals who request for the information. We are also seeking experts who can help us review and decipher the information that has been released.]   

On July 3, 2025, the Higher Education Inquirer received the latest response from the U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) regarding FOIA request 22-F-1203—our most recent effort in a nearly eight-year campaign to uncover how subprime and for-profit colleges have preyed on military servicemembers, veterans, and their families. 

The response included confirmation that 1,420 pages of documents were located. But of those, 306 pages were withheld in full, and 1,114 were released only with heavy redactions.  A few for-profit colleges—Trident University International, Grand Canyon University, DeVry University, and American Public University System (which includes American Military University and American Public University)—were specifically mentioned in the partially visible content.

 

And yet the larger truth remains hidden. The names of other institutions known to have exploited military-connected students—University of Phoenix, Colorado Technical University, American InterContinental University, Purdue University Global, and Liberty University Online, among others—were nowhere to be found in the documents we received. Their absence is conspicuous.

We have been pursuing the truth since December 2017, demanding records that would reveal how the DoD enabled these schools to thrive. We sought the list of the 50 worst-performing colleges receiving Tuition Assistance (TA) funds, based on data compiled under Executive Order 13607 during the Obama Administration. That list was never released. When the Trump Administration took power in 2017, they quietly abandoned the protective measures meant to hold these colleges accountable. Our FOIA request DOD OIG-2019-000702 was denied, with the Pentagon claiming that no such list existed. A second request in 2021 (21-F-0411) was also rejected. And now, more than three years after we filed our 2022 request, the DoD continues to deny the public full access to the truth.

The records we did receive are riddled with legal exemptions: internal deliberations, privacy claims, and most notably, references to 10 U.S.C. § 4021, a law that allows the DoD to withhold details of research transactions outside of traditional grants and contracts. In other words, the Pentagon has built legal firewalls around its relationships with for-profit education providers—and continues to shield bad actors from scrutiny.

But the complicity doesn’t end there. It extends deep into the institutional fabric of how the military interfaces with higher education.

Decades of Systemic Corruption

Since the 1980s, the U.S. Department of Defense has worked hand-in-glove with for-profit colleges through a nonprofit called the Council of College and Military Educators (CCME). What began in the 1970s as a noble initiative to expand access to education for military personnel was hijacked by predatory colleges—including the University of Phoenix—that used the organization as a lobbying front.

These schools infiltrated CCME events, using them to curry favor with military officials, often by hiring veterans as on-base sales agents and even providing alcohol to loosen up potential gatekeepers. While CCME publicly maintained the appearance of academic integrity and service, behind the scenes it served as a conduit for lobbying, influence, and enrollment schemes. Military education officers were schmoozed, manipulated, and in some cases, quietly co-opted. This is something you won’t find in CCME’s official history.

We have been told by multiple insiders that the partnership between DoD and these schools was not just tolerated but actively nurtured. Attempts at reform came and went. Investigations were buried. Promises to "do better" evaporated. No one was held accountable. No one went to jail. But the damage has been lasting—measured in ruined credit, wasted benefits, and lives derailed by fraudulent degrees and broken promises.

The Trump-Hegseth Department of Defense

And still, new scandals—except those uncovered by us—go largely unreported. The media has moved on. Congressional attention has shifted. And the same schools, or their rebranded successors, continue to operate freely, often under the protective shadow of military partnerships.

Today, the DoD continues to deny that the DODOIG-2019-000702 list of the 50 worst schools even exists. But we know otherwise. Based on VA data, whistleblower accounts, and independent reporting, we are confident that this list was compiled—and buried. The question is why. And the answer may very well lie in the unredacted names of institutions too politically connected or too legally protected to be exposed.

The Higher Education Inquirer will not stop pushing for those names, those communications, and that accountability. Because behind every redaction is a servicemember who trusted the system—and got scammed. Behind every delay is a taxpayer footing the bill for worthless credentials. Behind every refusal to act is a government too intertwined with profit to protect its own people.

This is not just a story of bureaucratic inertia. It is a story of complicity at the highest levels. And it is ongoing.

Related links:
DoD review: 0% of schools following TA rules (Military Times, 2018)
Schools are struggling to meet TA rules, but DoD isn’t punishing them. Here’s why. (Military Times, 2019)