Coalition Building: UFF Activists Learn from Flight Attendants and Construction Workers (HELU Blog)

[Editor's note: This article first appeared at the Higher Education Labor United blog.]

In Florida, where Governor Ron DeSantis was carrying out Trump-style attacks on higher education before the 2024 election, the United Faculty of Florida, a statewide union, gathered organizers from various chapters and joined with other unions to hold a Worker’s Forum in Miami Springs, facilitated by the Miami-Dade DSA. – Editor

From Chris Robé, Professor of Film and Media Studies, Delegate to HELU, Vice-President of United Faculty of Florida, Florida Atlantic University

United Faculty of Florida (UFF), our faculty union, represents more than 25,000 full-time faculty members. During our union’s inception in the early 1970s, it intended on representing all campus workers. But by the time the bargaining unit was defined, only full-time faculty were included.

It is high time to revisit that bolder strategy of organizing all those sectors associated with higher education as HELU has proposed in its bold “wall-to-wall, coast-to-coast” strategy. This inspired a crew of us in Florida to hold our own statewide organizers meeting from various UFF chapters. Coalition building continued more recently as the chapters of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) in Miami-Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach facilitated the South Florida Workers’ Forum on May 31st in Miami Springs at the AFL-CIO hall.

A few of us from various UFF chapters participated and attended with other members from the Communications Workers of America, UNITE HERE, Starbucks Workers United, Association of Flight Attendants, National Association of Letter Carriers, International Union of Painters and Allied Trades, American Federation of Government Employees, the Coalition of Black Trade Unionists, WeCount!, and many other organizations. A little over eighty people were in attendance.

The day consisted of four panels that addressed issues of: building union power; forming a union; fighting against state repression; and organizing for migrant justice. Between four and five people, each representing a different union, spoke briefly about each issue. Spanish translation was offered for those speaking exclusively in Spanish. Sub sandwiches, drinks and chips were provided in the back of the hall throughout the day.

I have written about this event more extensively in my blog, Dispatches from the Academic Trenches, so I will only highlight two inspiring moments during the forum. During the panel on forming a new union, Michael Baez, a flight attendant, mentioned that he was charged with assessing all five-hundred flight attendants’ attitude towards forming a union within his hub. He was the only organizer. Yet one could see in his friendly, upbeat disposition, he was the perfect person for the task. With a wide smile on his face, he informed us how he tried to raise fellow workers’ class-consciousness on flights while they engage in “jump seat therapy,” a term used to describe the way coworkers bare their life stories to each other out of earshot of customers while sitting across from each other during moments of rest.

Jairo, a construction worker who belongs to WeCount!, an immigrant-led workers’ organization, recounted in Spanish his efforts to make construction sites safer. He stated at one point: “We came here with suitcases in our hands in the pursuit of the American Dream. Instead, we find bosses trying to shortchange us and creating unsafe working conditions.” At the end of his talk, he held up his two calloused hands saying: “Remember: these are the hands that helped build Miami. These are also the hands that are building the union.”

It is hard to imagine a more difficult task of organizing workers after the end of a long shift working in construction or on a flight. But these workers served as testimony of doing so. Those of us in academia, where we set many of our own working hours and can use our site of employment for recruiting, have a rather privileged position compared to these other workers.

The opposition is counting on us staying siloed, keeping our heads down, and trying to wait all of this out. But as these speakers at the South Florida Worker’s Forum emphasized, we are all involved in this fight regardless if we acknowledge it or not. The only remaining question is: do we want to fight to strengthen our and others’ communities, work in coalitions and develop friendships and strategies with one another; or do we want to keep taking blows, time after time, day after day, year after year, until we ultimately no longer feel anything at all?

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.

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

President & Fellows, Overseers and Endowment: Harvard's Centers of Power

Harvard University, established in 1636, has long been a symbol of educational excellence and intellectual leadership. Yet, the power that underpins its prestige stretches beyond academia. It is shaped by a long history of governance, financial influence, and deep connections to elite sectors of politics, business, and finance. To understand Harvard’s true power, one must look at how its governance structures—its President & Fellows, Board of Overseers, and massive endowment—have evolved over time, and how these forces have perpetuated the university’s dominance, often at odds with its own stated ideals of inclusivity and social responsibility.

The Founding of Harvard: Roots in Slavery and Colonial Power

Harvard’s origins lie in the colonial era, when it was founded to train clergy and lay leaders for the Massachusetts Bay Colony. However, the university’s initial wealth and influence were, in part, fueled by the profits generated through slavery. Early benefactors of the institution were heavily invested in the slave trade, with their wealth derived from industries that relied on slave labor, particularly in the Caribbean and Southern American colonies. Harvard, as a result, was built upon the legacies of slavery—a complex and often forgotten chapter of its history.

In its early years, Harvard was a small, insular institution designed to cater to the colonial elite, focused largely on producing educated men who could serve in various clerical and academic positions. However, it was clear even then that those in positions of financial power held influence over the institution’s trajectory, a pattern that would only grow as Harvard expanded.

The Rise of Harvard's Governance: The Corporation and Overseers

By the 18th century, Harvard’s governance structure began to take shape. The President & Fellows of Harvard College, later known as the Harvard Corporation, became the central executive body. Comprised of the university's president and a small group of influential fellows, the Corporation held fiduciary responsibility for all decisions related to the university’s finances, policies, and strategic direction. This elite group, made up largely of wealthy businessmen, political leaders, and intellectuals, has continued to shape the university’s priorities ever since.

Meanwhile, the Board of Overseers, a larger and more advisory body, began to assume responsibility for providing guidance on academic matters and representing the interests of the broader Harvard community. Unlike the Fellows, the Overseers were elected by alumni and served as a check on the Corporation’s power. However, even the Overseers, while influential, were ultimately subordinate to the Corporation’s authority in matters of governance and institutional decisions.

This structure of governance—executive authority in the hands of a small, wealthy group—would prove to be a critical force in shaping the university’s development throughout the centuries. It also marked the beginning of a deep connection between Harvard and elite sectors of society, from local Boston elites to national political and financial figures.

Harvard's Endowment: A Financial Powerhouse

As the university grew in stature, so too did its endowment. By the 19th century, Harvard had begun to accumulate substantial wealth, much of it invested in land, property, and businesses tied to global trade. As a result, Harvard’s endowment began to wield increasing influence over the university’s operations. The Harvard Management Company (HMC), created to oversee the university’s massive endowment, became an essential player in Harvard’s financial operations.

The growth of the endowment allowed Harvard to operate with considerable financial independence. It could fund research, increase faculty salaries, and provide scholarships—all while maintaining a powerful influence over the broader academic world. As the endowment ballooned throughout the 20th century, it also gave Harvard an outsized role in global financial markets, reflecting the university’s transition from a regional educational institution to a global financial player.

However, the immense wealth of the endowment also raised ethical questions. Critics pointed out that the vast sums invested by Harvard often came from industries with questionable ethical practices, including fossil fuels, arms manufacturing, and exploitative labor practices. In recent decades, Harvard’s financial management has come under scrutiny for perpetuating global systems of inequality and environmental degradation—problems that often run counter to its educational and social missions.

Harvard's Complicated Legacy: Slavery, Assimilation of Native Americans, Neoliberalism

The legacy of slavery has continued to haunt Harvard well into the modern era. As the university's wealth grew, so too did the visibility of its entanglements with slavery. In recent years, historians and scholars have begun to reveal how Harvard's early benefactors—including major donors and founders—derived their fortunes from the slave trade. In 2021, the university published a report that detailed its historical ties to slavery, acknowledging that its financial success was built on the backs of enslaved people. The recognition of this history has led to calls for reparations, and for Harvard to take responsibility for its role in perpetuating systems of racial oppression.

Simultaneously, as Harvard’s financial and political clout grew, the university became increasingly aligned with neoliberal economic policies—policies that prioritize free markets, deregulation, and privatization. In the 1980s and 1990s, this embrace of neoliberalism became particularly visible as the university shifted focus from providing affordable, publicly accessible education to catering to the needs of a global elite. Harvard’s massive endowment, now managed in ways that often emphasized profitability above social responsibility, began to reflect broader trends within American society, where wealth became increasingly concentrated in the hands of the few.

Harvard’s relationship with Indigenous peoples has also been a source of significant controversy. In the 19th century, the university became involved in the forced assimilation of Native Americans through education. Harvard and other American institutions took part in programs designed to "civilize" Indigenous children, often by removing them from their families and communities and erasing their languages and cultures. This legacy of colonialism and cultural genocide, which was part of broader U.S. government policies, continues to shape Harvard’s interactions with Native American communities to this day. Despite recent initiatives aimed at improving outreach to Native students, Harvard has yet to fully reconcile with its historical role in this tragic chapter of U.S. history.

The Evolution of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) and Harvard’s Recent Backlash

In the latter half of the 20th century and into the 21st, Harvard made efforts to reform its policies and create a more inclusive environment for students of all backgrounds. Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) became core tenets of the university’s public identity, and significant strides were made in opening the institution to historically marginalized groups. However, this commitment began to fray as political and financial pressures mounted.

The most high-profile challenge came in the form of legal battles surrounding affirmative action. In 2014, the group Students for Fair Admissions filed a lawsuit alleging that Harvard discriminated against Asian American applicants in favor of Black and Latino students. The case drew national attention, and Harvard's DEI policies became a lightning rod for conservative critics, who argued that such efforts undermined meritocracy.

In response to the lawsuit and increasing scrutiny from corporate donors, Harvard's commitment to DEI efforts began to wane. Critics argue that Harvard has increasingly prioritized maintaining its relationships with powerful financial backers, many of whom have conservative views on race and education. DEI initiatives, which were once central to Harvard’s mission, have become a flashpoint in the broader cultural wars that shape American politics.

The Pritzker Family and Harvard’s Connections to Wall Street and Political Power

Among the most influential figures on Harvard’s Board of Overseers is Penny Pritzker, a billionaire businesswoman and former U.S. Secretary of Commerce. A member of the powerful Pritzker family, whose wealth originates from the Hyatt hotel chain, Pritzker’s role highlights the intersection of wealth, politics, and education. Her tenure on the Board of Overseers has been marked by her advocacy for policies that align with neoliberal values—emphasizing corporate partnerships, privatization, and economic growth.

Harvard’s growing connections to Wall Street and corporate elites have further cemented its position as a key player in U.S. economic and political spheres. Many of the university’s alumni go on to hold influential positions in major corporations, government, and financial institutions. These connections have allowed Harvard to play a central role in shaping the policies of both local governments, like the city of Boston, and national politics. In turn, Harvard’s vast wealth—much of it untaxed due to its nonprofit status—has raised concerns about its influence in local communities and the broader national political landscape.

Reluctance to Pay Taxes and Its Influence in Boston

Harvard’s tax-exempt status has long been a source of controversy. As a nonprofit institution, Harvard does not pay property taxes, a decision that has caused tension with local residents in Boston. The university owns significant amounts of real estate in the city, and critics argue that Harvard’s tax exemptions deprive the city of revenue that could be used to fund essential services. Furthermore, the university’s presence in Boston has driven up property values, contributing to gentrification and the displacement of lower-income residents.

At the same time, Harvard’s influence extends far beyond Boston. Through its financial ties, political connections, and network of alumni, the university wields significant power in shaping U.S. policies on everything from education to economic regulation. This has led to concerns about the concentration of power at elite institutions like Harvard, which continue to act as gatekeepers for access to political and economic power.

Looking Ahead: Harvard’s Continued Influence and the Future of Higher Education

As Harvard navigates these complicated legacies, questions about its future remain. The university’s governance structures—the Corporation, the Board of Overseers, and the endowment—will continue to shape the direction of the institution for generations to come. However, the institution will have to grapple with the contradictions between its immense power and wealth and its claims to be an institution committed to social good. Can Harvard reconcile its past and present with the values of diversity, equity, and inclusion? Will the concentration of power and wealth within the university’s governance structure continue to undermine its claims to progressive ideals?

As the world watches, Harvard's next steps will be crucial not just for the future of the university, but for the broader role that elite institutions play in shaping global financial, political, and social systems. Only time will tell if Harvard can evolve into an institution that truly reflects the ideals it claims to uphold—or if it will continue to wield its immense power in service of a narrow, elite agenda.

Cybersecurity Threats, Fascism, and Higher Education

American higher education stands at a dangerous crossroads—caught between the encroachment of authoritarian surveillance at home and the very real cybersecurity threats from adversarial states abroad. On one side, we see the growth of data collection and domestic monitoring that risks silencing dissent and undermining academic freedom. On the other, sophisticated cyberattacks from nation-states like Russia, China, Iran, Israel, and North Korea present significant threats to intellectual property, national security, and the safety of digital infrastructure on campus.

This double-edged sword raises urgent questions about the role of higher education in a time of rising fascism, geopolitical instability, and digital vulnerability.

In recent years, colleges and universities have become sites of intensified digital monitoring. Student protesters, faculty activists, and visiting scholars find themselves increasingly under surveillance by both state agencies and private contractors. Under the guise of “safety” and “cybersecurity,” dissident voices—especially those speaking out on issues like Palestine, racial justice, climate collapse, and labor rights—are monitored, flagged, and at times disciplined.

Campus security partnerships with local police and federal agencies like the FBI, DHS, and ICE have created a new surveillance architecture that chills free speech and suppresses organizing. Social media is mined. Emails are monitored. Student groups that once flourished in the open now meet with the paranoia of being watched or labeled as threats. This chilling effect is especially acute for international students and scholars from the Global South, who face disproportionate scrutiny, travel restrictions, and visa denials. These policies don’t just protect against threats—they enforce a top-down political orthodoxy. In some cases, administrators have even turned over data to law enforcement in response to political pressure, lawsuits, or fear of reputational harm. The dream of the university as a bastion of free inquiry is fading in the fog of surveillance capitalism and political fear.

Particularly concerning is the growing role of powerful tech firms like Palantir Technologies in higher education's security infrastructure. Originally developed with backing from the CIA’s venture capital arm, In-Q-Tel, Palantir’s software is designed for mass data aggregation, predictive policing, and counterinsurgency-style surveillance. While marketed as tools for campus safety and data management, Palantir’s platforms can also be used to monitor student behavior, track political activism, and identify so-called “threats” that align more with ideological dissent than legitimate security concerns. The company has existing contracts with numerous universities and research institutions, embedding itself in the heart of higher ed’s decision-making and information systems with little public accountability.

At the same time, the threat from foreign actors is not imaginary. Russian disinformation campaigns have targeted U.S. universities, attempting to sow discord through social media and exploit political divisions on campus. Iranian state-sponsored hackers have stolen research from American institutions, targeting fields like nuclear science, engineering, and public health. Chinese entities have been accused of both cyberespionage and aggressive recruitment of U.S.-trained researchers through programs like the Thousand Talents Plan, sparking controversy and xenophobic backlash. While some fears have been overstated or politically weaponized, evidence shows that intellectual property theft and cyber intrusion are persistent issues.

Meanwhile, Israel’s cyber industry—including firms founded by former Israeli intelligence operatives—has sold spyware and surveillance tools to governments and corporations worldwide. NSO Group’s Pegasus spyware, for instance, has reportedly been used to target academics, journalists, and activists. American campuses are not exempt from these tools’ reach—particularly when it comes to Palestine advocacy and international collaborations.

The paradox is clear: The same institutions that should be defending democratic ideals and global collaboration are being co-opted into both authoritarian domestic surveillance and militarized cyberdefense. There is an alarming convergence of corporate cybersecurity contractors, intelligence agencies, and university bureaucracies—often with little transparency or oversight. Federal funding tied to defense and homeland security has made some universities complicit in this surveillance regime. Others have turned to private cybersecurity vendors like Palantir, which quietly build intrusive systems that blur the lines between threat detection and political policing. In this environment, real cybersecurity is essential—but it must not become a tool for repression.

What is needed is a dual approach that protects against foreign and criminal cyberthreats without succumbing to the authoritarian logic of mass surveillance. Universities must protect academic freedom by enforcing strict policies against political monitoring and reaffirming the rights of students and faculty to speak, organize, and dissent. They must ensure transparency and oversight over cybersecurity operations and external partnerships, particularly those involving military and intelligence-linked firms. They must support digital security for activists and marginalized groups, not just administrative systems. And they must strengthen internal cyberdefenses through open-source tools, decentralized networks, and ethical cybersecurity education—not just corporate solutions that prioritize control over community.

We cannot allow the logic of the Cold War to be reborn in the form of digital McCarthyism. Higher education must be a firewall against fascism—not a pipeline for it. As we confront 21st-century cyberconflicts and political extremism, universities must ask themselves: Are we defending truth and inquiry—or enabling the very systems that undermine them? The answer will shape the future of higher education—and democracy itself.

Trump, Hegseth, and the Bombing of Iran: Taking the Bait at America’s Peril

The sudden arrival of the U.S. Air Force's E-4B “Doomsday Plane” at Joint Base Andrews this week has reignited fears of impending military escalation in the Middle East. As speculation swirls online and among defense analysts, President Donald Trump and his Fox News consigliere Pete Hegseth appear to be inching dangerously close to embracing a war plan that plays into the hands of both their domestic political ambitions and the geopolitical strategies of their adversaries.

The E-4B, also known as “Nightwatch,” is no ordinary aircraft. Built to survive a nuclear attack, maintain satellite command and control in the event of total ground disruption, and oversee the execution of emergency war orders, its presence near Washington, D.C. signals something far more than routine military procedure. The use of a rare callsign—"ORDER01"—instead of the standard "ORDER6" only stokes the sense that we are on the brink of another catastrophic foreign policy decision.

This show of force comes amid rising tensions with Iran, exacerbated by ongoing Israeli aggression and increased Iranian defiance. But rather than de-escalate or seek diplomatic offramps, Trump and Hegseth—cheered on by neoconservative holdovers and MAGA populists—seem eager to provoke or retaliate with military might.

Political Theater with Global Consequences

The specter of bombing Iran isn’t just about foreign policy—it’s political theater. In the lead-up to a contentious election cycle, Trump is once again playing the wartime president, wielding fear and nationalism to consolidate support. For Hegseth, a veteran turned right-wing media figure, the promise of patriotic glory and "restoring American strength" makes for good ratings and even better branding. Both men are using the possibility of war as a campaign tool—recklessly gambling with global stability.

Yet the U.S. has nothing to gain from an expanded conflict with Iran. If anything, such an act plays directly into the strategic interests of hardliners in Tehran and Tel Aviv alike. For Iran’s theocratic regime, American aggression would bolster internal solidarity and justify further authoritarian crackdowns. For Israel’s leadership, it would secure unwavering U.S. allegiance in their own campaign of regional dominance. For both, American bombs would mean the end of diplomatic ambiguity.

Higher Education and the Fog of War

War is also profitable—for defense contractors, media networks, and privatized universities that specialize in churning out online degrees in homeland security and intelligence studies. Institutions like the Liberty University, whose ads routinely appear alongside war reporting, are the educational arm of the war economy, training an underpaid, precariously employed labor force in service of endless conflict. These for-profit institutions have long aligned themselves with militarism, offering “education benefits” that function as recruitment tools for the armed forces.

Meanwhile, real intellectual inquiry is under siege. Faculty who question U.S. foreign policy—particularly in the Middle East—face surveillance, harassment, and cancellation. Dissenting students are monitored. Grants for critical research dry up, while think tanks funded by the arms industry flourish. Universities become staging grounds for ideological conformity, not bastions of free thought.

Taking the Bait

Trump and Hegseth are being lured into a trap—one that benefits the very global elites they claim to oppose. Escalating with Iran serves the military-industrial complex, shores up Israeli hardliners, and consolidates state power under the guise of national emergency. At home, it means more surveillance, more censorship, and more austerity for working families already reeling from inflation and housing insecurity.

In the end, the cost of war will not be borne by Trump or Hegseth. It will be borne by low-income soldiers, the people of Iran, and the students who forgo education for military service. It will be paid for by cutting healthcare, housing, and higher education. And it will hollow out American democracy, all while propping up the illusion of strength.

This is not leadership. This is entrapment. And it’s time we said so—loudly, before the next bombs drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Liberty University Targeting Vets for Robocollege Master's Degrees

Liberty University, one of the largest Christian universities in the world, has built an educational empire by promoting conservative values and offering flexible online degree programs to hundreds of thousands of students. But behind the pious branding and patriotic marketing lies a troubling pattern: Liberty University Online has become a master’s degree debt factory, churning out credentials of questionable value while generating billions in student loan debt.

Massive Debt Load: New Federal Data

The Higher Education Inquirer has recently received a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) response (25-01939-F) confirming the staggering financial footprint of Liberty University’s loan-driven model. According to the data, more than 290,000 Liberty University student loan debtors collectively owe over $8 billion in federal student loan debt.

This figure places Liberty among the nation’s top producers of student debt, especially at the graduate level. The data underscores the scale of Liberty’s online operation—and raises serious concerns about the value students are receiving in return for their investment.

From Moral Majority to Mass Marketing

Founded in 1971 by televangelist Jerry Falwell Sr., Liberty University was created to train “Champions for Christ.” In the 2000s, the university reinvented itself through online education, growing from a modest evangelical college into a global mega-university. Today, nearly 95,000 students are enrolled online—most of them nontraditional learners pursuing graduate credentials in fields like education, business, counseling, and theology.

This transformation was powered by digital marketing, religious rhetoric, and direct appeals to working adults and veterans. But what has emerged is a high-volume, low-engagement “robocollege” model that has led to massive student debt and mixed outcomes.

A For-Profit Model in Nonprofit Clothing

Though it operates as a nonprofit, Liberty functions much like a for-profit college. Its online programs generate an estimated $1 billion in annual revenue, mostly through federal student aid and military education benefits.

Students are funneled into fast-tracked, eight-week master’s programs that promise convenience but often fail to deliver quality or post-graduate opportunity. According to U.S. Department of Education data, median graduate student debt at Liberty ranges from $40,000 to $70,000, while returns on investment—measured in earnings and job placement—are questionable at best.

Robocollege for Warriors

Liberty markets itself as a military-friendly institution and has enrolled over 40,000 military-affiliated students in recent years. Through patriotic branding and targeted discounts, the university appeals to service members seeking affordable, faith-based education.

However, Liberty does not extend military tuition discounts to LGBTQ spouses or partners, effectively excluding same-sex families from benefits offered to heterosexual military couples. This discriminatory policy contradicts federal nondiscrimination principles but has gone unchallenged by any federal oversight agency, including the U.S. Department of Education, the Department of Defense, and the Department of Veterans Affairs.

The absence of accountability underscores a broader pattern: religious institutions like Liberty continue to receive billions in public funds while applying selective moral frameworks to exclude marginalized communities.

Liberty’s discriminatory practices add insult to injury for LGBTQ military students and their families, who are asked to sacrifice for their country but denied equal access to educational support.

Automated, Ideologically Charged Learning

Liberty’s academic model is highly automated and often superficial. Online coursework typically consists of textbook readings, quizzes, and templated discussion posts—with little direct instruction or feedback from faculty. Many students report that religious ideology is embedded in even technical fields, from business to engineering.

“They put scripture in every assignment—sometimes where it makes no sense,” said one former student.
“It’s more like an indoctrination pipeline than a graduate school,” added a military spouse who withdrew from the program.

Liberty’s online aviation program came under fire in 2023 when the VA suspended GI Bill payments due to quality concerns. Veterans were left stranded mid-program, forced to pause their education or self-fund tuition after losing federal support.

A Dual Identity: Race and Class Divides

Liberty’s racial and socioeconomic divides are stark. Its residential campus in Lynchburg, Virginia, is 74% white, with just 4% of students identifying as Black, 5% Latino, and 2% Asian or Pacific Islander. The number of African American students on campus has declined in recent years, even as national college demographics diversify.

This imbalance reflects Liberty’s historical roots: founder Jerry Falwell Sr. publicly defended racial segregation and opposed civil rights legislation in the 1960s. While Liberty has distanced itself from these positions rhetorically, the legacy remains visible in the composition and culture of the on-campus student body.

In contrast, Liberty University Online (LUO) is much more diverse. In 2017, only 51% of LUO undergraduates were white, and 15.4% identified as Black. Many LUO students are older, work full-time, and represent the multiracial, working-class America that Liberty’s campus culture does not reflect or represent.

Exploiting Faith and Patriotism

Liberty’s marketing presents education as a spiritual and patriotic calling—especially appealing to military families and first-generation students seeking purpose and stability. But behind the inspirational messaging lies a hard financial truth: many students are left with heavy debt and degrees that may not align with licensure standards or employer expectations.

Liberty pours resources into advertising and retention but spends comparatively little on faculty pay, student advising, or academic support. Complaints about misleading information, difficulty transferring credits, and job placement struggles are common.

Lack of Oversight, Political Protection

Despite numerous scandals—including leadership resignations, sexual misconduct coverups, and allegations of financial mismanagement—Liberty continues to operate with limited regulatory scrutiny. Its nonprofit status and political influence, particularly within conservative circles, shield it from the kind of oversight faced by for-profit colleges.

During the Trump administration, higher education accountability was dramatically weakened, giving Liberty and similar institutions near-total freedom to expand unchecked. That permissive environment remains largely intact.

A Cautionary Tale in Christian Capitalism

Liberty University’s rise reveals a troubling convergence of religion, profit, and political power. What’s marketed as moral education is often little more than credential inflation funded by public debt. And for students of color, LGBTQ families, and military veterans, the promises of upward mobility too often end in disappointment—and financial ruin.

With more than 290,000 Liberty student loan debtors owing over $8 billion, the scale of Liberty’s impact on the nation’s student debt crisis is undeniable. Yet its discriminatory practices, especially against LGBTQ military families, go unanswered by federal authorities.

For an institution claiming to train "Champions for Christ," Liberty’s actions tell a different story—one where profit is paramount, and equity is an afterthought.

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The Higher Education Inquirer will continue investigating Liberty University and similar institutions, particularly those profiting from vulnerable populations under the banners of faith, freedom, and flag.

A Growing Wall: International Students from Dozens of Nations Face Potential U.S. Entry Ban

Under President Donald Trump’s second term, U.S. immigration policy has taken another dramatic and punitive turn—this time targeting international students not only from historically marginalized nations but also from America’s largest educational partners. A leaked State Department memo dated June 14 warns that 36 additional countries, most of them in Africa, face imminent visa restrictions unless they meet stringent new compliance standards within 60 days. The consequences could be devastating—not just for prospective students, but for those already here, many of whom have been detained, deported, or left the country in fear.

While the list in the memo includes countries such as Nigeria, Egypt, Ghana, Ethiopia, and Cameroon—nations that send thousands of students to the United States—what is already unfolding extends beyond the African continent. Students from China and India, the top two sources of international enrollment in the U.S., have also found themselves caught in an increasingly hostile environment.

Hundreds of students from China and India have already been detained, interrogated, and in some cases deported at airports across the U.S., even when holding valid visas. Customs and Border Protection agents have reportedly cited vague “national security concerns” or accused students of being affiliated with banned organizations, including universities linked to Chinese military or surveillance activity. In some instances, students have been denied entry without access to legal representation, held overnight, and put on planes home.

In April, multiple Indian graduate students—some with full scholarships—were refused entry at U.S. airports and summarily deported. Others have chosen to abandon their programs altogether, fearing further harassment or immigration complications. The same pattern is playing out among Chinese students, especially those in STEM fields, who are now seen by some U.S. officials as potential security threats.

Meanwhile, the State Department’s June 14 memo sets its sights on a broad new swath of countries. If restrictions go into effect, they will impact not only future student visa applicants but also those currently enrolled in the U.S. who may soon find themselves unable to renew visas, travel for family emergencies, or continue their studies without disruption.

The original June 4 proclamation—Proclamation 10949—already banned entry from countries including Afghanistan, Iran, Libya, Sudan, and Yemen. But the new, expanded list includes 36 additional countries such as Angola, Benin, Cambodia, Cameroon, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Liberia, Malawi, Niger, Syria, Uganda, and Zimbabwe. Many of these nations have only a modest number of students in the U.S., but several—like Nigeria, Ghana, Egypt, and Ethiopia—have longstanding educational ties and large student populations.

Even institutions such as the University of Pennsylvania have acknowledged disruptions. More than 200 of their international students and scholars are reportedly affected by the current travel bans. Administrators have warned students from targeted countries not to leave the U.S. for fear they won't be allowed to return. Legal clinics and international offices are overwhelmed, and some campuses are quietly reassessing how much they can rely on foreign enrollment moving forward.

For many universities, the timing couldn’t be worse. Shrinking domestic enrollment, financial shortfalls, and growing political hostility toward diversity, equity, and global engagement have already strained budgets and missions. International students, who often pay full tuition, have long been seen as a financial lifeline for underfunded institutions. Now, that lifeline is fraying—if not being intentionally cut.

The Trump administration’s framing of these changes centers on alleged concerns over visa overstays, document fraud, and national security. But critics argue the administration is using fear to further a nationalist agenda—one that openly targets Black and brown-majority nations, and casts suspicion on even the most vetted international applicants.

The damage to the reputation of American higher education may be incalculable. Canada, Australia, Germany, and the UK have already begun to benefit from the perception that the U.S. is hostile to foreign students. University partnerships, research initiatives, and global talent recruitment are all at risk. So too is the decades-long project of soft diplomacy that American education once represented.

And the fear is real. Stories of students being detained or deported without warning are now common in diaspora communities. International student applications to U.S. universities are dropping. Families abroad are beginning to steer their children away from what once was the gold standard of global education.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to track these developments. With the stroke of a pen, thousands of academic journeys could be disrupted or ended altogether. For now, uncertainty hangs over a system that once claimed to be open to the world—and now looks increasingly closed off.

The American Dream Deferred: Asian Students Reconsider US Higher Education Amid Trump-Era Visa Crackdown

A recent investigative report from the South China Morning Post has brought international attention to a growing crisis in American higher education—one that many U.S. colleges and universities have been reluctant to confront publicly. Amid a second Trump administration and an escalating crackdown on immigration, thousands of Asian students are rethinking or abandoning their long-held dreams of a U.S. education.

For decades, the promise of an American degree symbolized more than academic excellence. It represented freedom, opportunity, and a foothold into a more prosperous life. That promise is now being eroded—not because of tuition hikes or student debt, but due to political hostility, administrative unpredictability, and nativist policies that treat international students more as geopolitical pawns than valued contributors.

As reported by Kimberly Lim, Nicole Cheah, Biman Mukherji, and Hadi Azmi for the SCMP, students from countries like Myanmar, China, Singapore, and Malaysia are finding themselves in an increasingly precarious position. Student visa interviews are being suspended. University programs, including those at Harvard, have had their certification revoked and later reinstated only under pressure. Students are being warned that travel abroad could mean forfeiting their education permanently.

The Trump administration’s targeting of Chinese nationals—who comprise nearly a quarter of all international students in the U.S.—is part of a broader xenophobic wave. From digital surveillance of visa applicants’ social media accounts to travel bans that now include nations like Myanmar, the message is unmistakable: “You are not welcome here.”

While U.S. institutions still top global rankings—with Harvard, MIT, and Stanford dominating the QS World University Rankings—reputation alone may no longer be enough. As one student in Singapore told SCMP, “Uncertainty has costs.” Students are not just questioning whether they can complete their education—they’re wondering if they’ll be deported mid-semester, or whether their parents’ financial sacrifices will be wasted.

Alternative destinations are gaining traction. Singapore, the UK, Australia, Canada, and even countries like China and Japan are offering pathways that don’t involve the same risks. Malaysia’s Majlis Amanah Rakyat has already redirected its indigenous scholarship students away from the U.S. toward less volatile environments.

U.S. higher education has long depended on the tuition and intellectual contributions of international students. In 2023–24 alone, they added $43.8 billion to the American economy and supported over 378,000 jobs. The sector's economic value aside, these students enrich classrooms, expand cross-cultural understanding, and bolster the country’s soft power. But these gains are being squandered by political short-sightedness and strategic cruelty.

The Higher Education Inquirer has previously reported on the structural rot in U.S. higher education—skyrocketing tuition, exploitative labor practices, administrative bloat—but this emerging international student crisis underscores a moral and strategic failing at the national level. We are watching in real time as the U.S. forfeits its role as a global education leader.

Yes, as some education consultants told the SCMP, the appeal of U.S. credentials will likely survive this political moment. But the long-term damage may be harder to repair. Trust, once broken, is not easily restored.

The Trump administration has made its vision of higher education and international exchange abundantly clear: exclusion over inclusion, suspicion over scholarship, nationalism over knowledge.

If this is what “America First” looks like in the classroom, students around the world are wisely deciding it may not be worth the risk.

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The Higher Education Inquirer continues to monitor and report on how authoritarian and neoliberal forces are reshaping global education systems, with consequences that extend far beyond the campus gates.

The Newest Need for Underground College Newspapers

In an era dominated by social media noise, shrinking professional newsrooms, and increasing institutional secrecy, the revival and reinvention of college and university newspapers may be more necessary than ever. While many campus publications have suffered cutbacks or collapsed entirely due to budget constraints, digital overload, and administrative pressure, the need for independent student journalism remains urgent—perhaps even existential.

A Vanishing Watchdog

Over the last two decades, local news in the United States has been gutted. College towns, often reliant on regional papers, have lost a critical layer of scrutiny. In parallel, many campus newspapers—once robust training grounds for journalists and fierce watchdogs of university governance—have withered. Some have been absorbed into PR arms of institutions, with student journalists pressured or co-opted into serving administrative narratives.

Yet as colleges and universities face profound challenges—rising tuition, falling enrollment, mounting debt, labor unrest, and political scrutiny—the lack of independent, on-the-ground reporting has created an information vacuum. In this environment, truth becomes malleable, accountability erodes, and institutional failures are too often buried in silence.

A New Generation, A New Role

Despite setbacks, a growing number of student journalists are pushing back. At the University of Southern California, The Daily Trojan exposed administrative mismanagement related to sexual assault. At Northwestern, The Daily Northwestern has tackled controversies involving faculty conduct and institutional transparency. And at Columbia University, The Columbia Daily Spectator has taken on the university’s relationship with gentrification in Harlem.

What distinguishes these publications isn't just their resilience—it's their refusal to accept a narrow definition of campus journalism. Today’s best student reporters are not only covering student government meetings or campus events—they're digging into real estate deals, institutional investments, labor practices, and even international connections, from Chinese academic partnerships to private equity control of online education.

The Decline and Co-optation

However, these examples are exceptions. Across the country, hundreds of student newspapers have been diminished or dissolved. Many that survive are chronically underfunded or rely on the goodwill of the same administrations they should be scrutinizing. Others have been folded into university communication departments, effectively becoming tools of branding and enrollment marketing.

Some student journalists now face soft censorship: the pressure not to publish controversial stories that could harm a university’s reputation or donor relations. Others deal with harder forms—budget threats, advisor firings, or limited access to information. In some cases, entire newspapers have been shuttered without consultation with students or faculty.

Why They Matter Now More Than Ever

Today’s higher education system is in flux. Tuition costs and student debt are under scrutiny. Title IX enforcement, labor rights for adjuncts and graduate workers, and diversity policies are politically weaponized. Public confidence in higher ed is declining, while financial mismanagement and administrative bloat continue largely unchecked.

Who will report on these issues if not the students on the ground?

Student newspapers offer more than just training—they’re democratic institutions. They give voice to marginalized students, expose inequities, and hold those in power accountable. In some communities, they’re the only media outlet asking tough questions. They also play a critical role in informing not just students but alumni, faculty, staff, and policymakers.

What Must Be Done

The revival of college newspapers requires real support—not just from universities, but from alumni, independent media, philanthropic organizations, and readers. This support must come without strings attached. Autonomy is the bedrock of journalism.

Foundations that support civic engagement and press freedom should consider earmarking funds specifically for independent campus journalism. Public universities should be held accountable for supporting—rather than stifling—student voices. Faculty allies can advocate for journalism programs and protect the academic freedom of student reporters.

In this new media age, campus newspapers must also evolve: adopting hybrid revenue models, building investigative teams, collaborating with local and national outlets, and using digital tools to reach broader audiences.

Preserving Democracy on and Off Campus  

The new need for college and university newspapers is not simply about preserving an academic tradition. It’s about preserving democratic infrastructure in an increasingly privatized and opaque sector of American life. If students are told that higher education is meant to prepare them to lead and serve in a democratic society, then empowering them to investigate, critique, and question their institutions is not optional—it is essential.

The Higher Education Inquirer stands with those student journalists who refuse to be silenced, and who still believe that the truth—even on campus—is worth fighting for.

Ambow Education's Latest Move Raises Red Flags—A Second Warning to Colorado State University

On June 11, Ambow Education Holding Ltd. (NYSE American: AMBO) announced the appointment of James Bartholomew as its new president, emphasizing his leadership experience at DeVry University and Adtalem Global Education. While this move is being framed as part of a bold pivot toward global expansion through its hybrid learning platform, HybriU, the deeper reality of Ambow’s operations suggests that institutions like Colorado State University (CSU) should proceed with extreme caution.

Ambow Education is no stranger to controversy. In May 2022, The Higher Education Inquirer began investigating the company after credible tips about its mismanagement of Bay State College in Boston. The Massachusetts Attorney General had already fined the school in 2020 for misleading students. By August 2023, Bay State College closed abruptly, leaving behind a mess for students and staff. Throughout this time, Ambow operated with an alarming level of opacity, raising concerns among journalists, regulators, and public officials—including Senator Elizabeth Warren and Representative Ayanna Pressley.

Ambow’s financial practices and leadership structure have remained elusive, with lingering ties to the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The company sold its PRC-based assets in 2022 and relocated to a small office in Cupertino, California, but its auditor remains based in China, and it has expressed interest in projects in Morocco and Tunisia involving Chinese-affiliated partners. The proverb about fishing in murky waters aptly describes how Ambow has operated in both Chinese and American markets.

Now, Ambow is promoting HybriU, a “phygital” platform it claims is revolutionizing education and corporate communication. Marketed heavily at events like CES and ASU-GSV, HybriU has been linked to a $1.3 million contract with a small firm in Singapore, but no major U.S. clients have been named. Visuals from the company’s website include stock images, and there’s no publicly available evidence that HybriU is delivering measurable results in any real-world education setting. The platform’s “OOOK” (One-on-One Knowledge) technology was first introduced in China in 2021, but it has yet to prove itself in American classrooms.

James Bartholomew’s appointment appears to be aimed at lending credibility to the HybriU initiative. However, his background warrants a closer look. DeVry University, where Bartholomew previously served as CEO, was embroiled in a long list of scandals, including a $100 million settlement with the Federal Trade Commission in 2016 for deceptive advertising practices. These included inflated job placement claims and misleading earnings expectations for graduates. The Department of Education also scrutinized DeVry for poor student loan repayment metrics and aggressive recruiting tactics.

At Adtalem Global Education—DeVry’s former parent company—similar concerns persisted. Offshore medical schools under Adtalem’s umbrella, such as Ross University and American University of the Caribbean, were criticized for high tuition, student debt, and low U.S. residency placement rates. The company spent years lobbying against federal gainful employment regulations that were designed to protect students from predatory institutions. While Bartholomew may not have initiated these practices, he held leadership roles during a time when the institutions were navigating declining trust, financial turbulence, and increasing regulatory scrutiny.

Against this backdrop, reports have emerged that Colorado State University is considering a partnership with Ambow to implement the HybriU platform. On the surface, this might seem like a step toward innovation and flexibility in digital learning. But such a partnership could expose CSU to national security and data privacy risks, regulatory backlash, reputational damage, and questionable academic outcomes.

Given Ambow’s historical ties to the PRC, questions have been raised about the possibility of exposing sensitive university data to foreign surveillance or influence. CSU is a major research university with partnerships across science, defense, and technology. Even the perception that its digital infrastructure could be compromised could undermine public trust and jeopardize government grants and contracts.

The regulatory landscape is also increasingly cautious when it comes to foreign influence, particularly from China, in American higher education. Federal agencies have warned about the risks of partnerships that could compromise institutional independence or data integrity. Entering into a relationship with a firm like Ambow could place CSU under increased scrutiny or spark political backlash.

From a pedagogical perspective, HybriU is unproven. It has yet to demonstrate any significant results in U.S. education settings, and its claims are not substantiated by independent data. Adopting a platform without a strong record could endanger CSU’s teaching mission and student learning experiences at a time when the credibility of online education remains fragile.

Historically, investors and institutions have backed away from Ambow. The company was delisted from the NYSE in 2014 following accounting fraud allegations and shareholder lawsuits. It has struggled to maintain financial health and transparency. Its last remaining U.S. college, NewSchool of Architecture and Design in San Diego, has just 280 students and is currently under Heightened Cash Monitoring (HCM2) by the U.S. Department of Education. Lawsuits in San Diego allege non-payment of rent and unpaid compensation to the school’s former president. 

Meanwhile, Ambow has commissioned favorable research reports—like one from Argus Research—even though its spending on research and development remains remarkably low, at only $100,000 per quarter. Its current auditor, Prouden CPA, is new to the company’s books and based in China. Whether Ambow’s next annual report will bring clarity or further confusion remains to be seen.

For these reasons, The Higher Education Inquirer urges the leadership of Colorado State University to approach Ambow with skepticism and perform exhaustive due diligence. The CSU community deserves full transparency regarding Ambow’s ownership, financial practices, and data handling policies. Decisions should be made in consultation with cybersecurity experts, faculty, IT professionals, and government advisors. Alternative domestic edtech providers should be considered—especially those that are accountable, proven, and aligned with CSU’s mission.

At a time when public trust in higher education is strained and geopolitical tensions are high, it is not enough to adopt flashy technology for the sake of appearance. Colorado State University—and the taxpayers who support it—deserve better than an experiment based on unproven claims and a troubling history. CSU should reconsider any move forward with Ambow, before it finds itself entangled in another education debacle disguised as innovation.

Trading Down: What the Consumer Shift Among Wealthier Americans Means for Higher Education

As higher-income Americans increasingly turn to dollar stores and secondhand outlets in search of savings, a deeper economic shift is unfolding—one with direct and underappreciated implications for colleges and universities across the United States. What some call a “quest for value” is reshaping household spending habits, even among six-figure earners. But beyond retail, this behavioral change signals a broader financial anxiety that could impact how Americans think about the costs and benefits of higher education.

The Middle Class is Feeling the Pinch

Recent data from the National Retail Federation and Moody’s Ratings show a surge in wealthier consumers “trading down”—shifting from premium brands to generics, from specialty stores to Walmart and Dollar Tree. Retail leaders from Dollar General to Academy Sports report growing traffic from households earning over $100,000. These are not the stereotypical bargain shoppers. These are families who, until recently, may have sent their children to private schools, paid sticker price for college, and viewed elite institutions as a worthwhile investment.

Now, even they are economizing. That behavior shift is not just about inflation or tariffs—it’s about eroding consumer confidence and a reassessment of value.

What Does This Mean for Higher Ed?

Higher education has long positioned itself as a high-return investment. But when middle- and upper-middle-class Americans are rethinking $4 lattes and $50 jeans, what happens when they start looking more critically at $250,000 bachelor’s degrees?

• Tuition Sensitivity Is Spreading Upmarket: Public and private colleges that once banked on full-pay students from affluent families are likely to see more pushback. Even families with significant income may seek “value” options—such as in-state public universities, community colleges, online programs, or skipping college altogether in favor of trade training or early employment.

• Elite Branding May No Longer Be Enough: Brand-name colleges—especially mid-tier private institutions without Ivy League cachet—could face new skepticism from families demanding clear ROI. Prestige alone won’t justify escalating tuition in a time when even $100K+ earners are stretching budgets.

• The Student Debt Backlash Will Grow: The federal student loan crisis has already decimated trust in the traditional college pathway. As middle- and upper-class families feel the economic squeeze, their tolerance for long-term debt may fall, increasing demand for clearer loan disclosures, more accountability, and perhaps even political action on tuition price controls.

• Donors May Reevaluate Priorities: As financial unease trickles into wealthier brackets, it could also impact giving. University advancement offices may find it harder to raise unrestricted funds, particularly from alumni who now question whether their alma mater is part of the value problem.

The End of the “Education at Any Cost” Era?

What we’re seeing now in retail—an upper-middle class retrenchment—is likely to surface in higher education in the coming enrollment cycles. Already, enrollment at community colleges and online universities like Western Governors University and Southern New Hampshire University is growing. These institutions market themselves not just as affordable, but as practical and employment-focused—offering value in a way that resonates with a cost-conscious public.

Colleges that ignore this consumer mindset shift do so at their own peril. The new American shopper is pragmatic, anxious, and increasingly unwilling to pay for prestige or tradition without a guarantee of economic return. That mindset will follow them into every financial decision—including where and whether to send their children to college.

In an era of economic uncertainty, the question many families are asking isn’t “Where can I get in?” but “What’s really worth it?”

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The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to investigate how economic shifts and consumer behavior are shaping the future of higher education—for students, families, workers, and society.