WASHINGTON – Today, the U.S. Department of Education launchedEndDEI.Ed.Gov, a public portal for parents, students, teachers, and the broader community to submit reports of discrimination based on race or sex in publicly-funded K-12 schools.
The secure portal allows parents to provide an email address, the name of the student’s school or school district, and details of the concerning practices. The Department of Education will use submissions as a guide to identify potential areas for investigation.
“For years, parents have been begging schools to focus on teaching their kids practical skills like reading, writing, and math, instead of pushing critical theory, rogue sex education and divisive ideologies—but their concerns have been brushed off, mocked, or shut down entirely,” said Tiffany Justice, Co-Founder of Moms for Liberty. “Parents, now is the time that you share the receipts of the betrayal that has happened in our public schools. This webpage demonstrates that President Trump’s Department of Education is putting power back in the hands of parents.”
In response to potential federal funding reductions, the University of Michigan has announced a series of strategic measures aimed at protecting its financial stability. Despite the university’s strong financial standing, recent federal directives—specifically, a legal order to cease work on a multimillion-dollar project—have prompted the university to prepare for additional funding challenges that may arise in the near future.
As part of these efforts, the university is introducing new requirements related to hiring, budget management, and spending. These steps include:
Hiring Review Process:
All new hires for both regular and temporary positions (faculty and staff) will require approval from deans and executive officers, followed by a review from the president or executive vice presidents (EVPs).
The university will require approval for replacement, incremental, temporary, and contract positions. However, offers already extended to candidates will be honored.
Michigan Medicine will continue with its current hiring review process.
Non-Essential Expenditures:
Non-payroll commitments over $50K will require written approval from the president or EVPs before being processed, and this approval must accompany requisitions or contract requests to procurement services.
Additionally, units are encouraged to voluntarily review other non-essential expenditures, such as travel, conferences, and consultant fees, to identify potential savings.
Capital Spending:
Capital projects—including new buildings and infrastructure projects—will be closely reviewed. Projects that require regental approval will continue to be evaluated by the university's capital council, while ongoing projects will proceed as planned.
The university also noted that Michigan Medicine will receive separate, specific guidance regarding these measures.
In a joint letter, President Santa J. Ono, Executive Vice President Geoffrey S. Chatas, Provost Laurie K. McCauley, and Executive Vice President for Medical Affairs Marschall S. Runge urged faculty and staff to collaborate and engage thoughtfully in these efforts. The university’s leadership emphasized the importance of these proactive measures in ensuring continued institutional success amid uncertain federal funding.
Hands off our research! Hands off our healthcare! Hands off our jobs! The message rang out loud and clear at the Department of Health and Human Services in Washington, D.C., Feb. 25, where scientists, researchers and other higher education workers rallied against the cuts the Trump administration has been making to medical research. It’s just one way AFT members are pushing back against attacks that harm not just researchers but the millions of Americans who rely on their work for cures and treatments for everything from cancer to diabetes and Alzheimer’s.
When President Trump ordered a 90-day freeze on foreign aid, no one felt the impact more than the people of Sudan. Two years of civil war has left more than 25 million Sudanese starving in what is the largest humanitarian crisis the world has ever seen. Debora Patta reports.
In prestigious universities across the country, the figurehead of the institution—the president—has become a symbol of frustration and resentment among students, faculty, and staff. These figures, often once revered as academic leaders, are increasingly viewed as little more than corporate CEOs, prioritizing the interests of wealthy trustees and donors over the very people who make the university what it is: the students and the dedicated faculty and staff who carry out its mission.
At the heart of the growing discontent is the trend of university presidents restricting freedom of speech and assembly, stifling student activism, and limiting open debate in the name of "campus safety" or "institutional stability." Instead of acting as advocates for open discourse, many university presidents have aligned themselves with powerful corporate interests, turning their backs on the very values that once defined higher education. The administration's agenda is often dictated by the whims of major donors, whose influence can shape everything from university policy to the hiring and firing of professors.
The University of Chicago, long a beacon of academic freedom, has seen its leadership take a hard turn in recent years, placing increasing restrictions on student demonstrations and dissent. Under the guise of maintaining "campus order," the administration has been known to deploy private security to break up protests and limit public forums for free speech.
Harvard University, with its enormous endowment and prestigious reputation, has become another example of an institution where the president seems more concerned with appeasing donors than listening to the students and faculty. The administration has been criticized for prioritizing relationships with donors over addressing the deepening student debt crisis and growing concerns about inequality in higher education. The university has faced a wave of student-led protests demanding action on climate change, affordable tuition, and the rights of adjunct faculty, all of which were largely ignored or dismissed by the top administration.
Harvard’s massive endowment—reportedly the largest of any university in the world—has been a focal point of controversy. While it continues to grow, many argue that the university could be doing far more to address the financial burdens of its students, particularly the mounting debt facing undergraduates. Instead, the administration has focused on expanding its brand and maintaining its status as an elite institution, often prioritizing donor preferences and legacy admissions over efforts to make education more accessible. Legacy admissions, in which children of alumni are given preferential treatment, have been a point of contention, with critics arguing that this practice entrenches privilege and reduces opportunities for marginalized students.
Even at places like Princeton University, long considered a champion of academic freedom, President Christopher Eisgruber has come under fire for clamping down on student speech and assembly. While Princeton’s administration claims to support free expression, it has quietly enacted policies to restrict protestors’ access to the administration building, citing concerns about “disruption” and “disorder.” Eisgruber, who has connections to powerful alumni, has been accused of using his position to protect the interests of wealthy donors while ignoring the voices of those who are most directly affected by the university's policies.
The University of Southern California (USC) is another prime example of a university where the president’s priorities have come under increasing scrutiny from students, faculty, and staff. Under President Carol Folt, USC has become emblematic of a trend where the administration appears more aligned with wealthy donors and corporate interests than with the needs of its campus community.
Folt, who took over as USC's president in 2019, was thrust into the spotlight during a period of significant unrest. The university had already been embroiled in scandals—including the high-profile college admissions bribery scandal—and was facing criticism for its handling of sexual assault allegations within its medical school. Rather than addressing these issues head-on, many argue that Folt’s administration focused instead on securing funding from high-profile donors and expanding the university’s brand, while sidelining the concerns of students and faculty.
This prioritization of external donors is evident in USC’s massive fundraising campaigns, which often overshadow initiatives aimed at addressing student debt, affordability, or academic freedom. USC's endowment has grown exponentially under Folt’s leadership, but student loan debt continues to be a crippling issue for many Trojans, and the concerns of adjunct faculty members remain largely ignored.
Furthermore, Folt’s administration has faced criticism for its efforts to suppress dissent on campus. For instance, student protests related to labor rights, housing issues, and calls for greater diversity on campus have been met with limited response or, at times, outright hostility. In 2022, when USC students protested the administration's handling of campus housing shortages, they were met with heightened security measures and a lack of genuine engagement from university leadership. These actions—along with Folt’s ties to the private sector, particularly her background in environmental policy and corporate leadership—have fueled perceptions that USC’s administration is more interested in protecting its brand than in creating an inclusive, participatory academic environment.
USC also exemplifies the growing disconnect between students, faculty, and administration when it comes to issues of free speech and assembly. Protests have become less frequent, as many students feel their voices will not be heard, and faculty members, particularly those in non-tenure track positions, are often too fearful of retribution to publicly criticize the administration.
The discontent with university leadership is not confined to the campus. In recent years, presidents from some of the nation's most elite institutions, including Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, have faced intense scrutiny and backlash during hearings in the U.S. House of Representatives. These public hearings, aimed at addressing the growing issues of student debt, university funding, and the influence of wealthy donors on campus, have highlighted the widening disconnect between top university administrations and the communities they are supposed to serve.
During a House hearing in 2022, Lawrence Bacow of Harvard, along with MIT's President L. Rafael Reif and Penn's President Amy Gutmann, faced tough questioning from lawmakers who were deeply critical of how these institutions have handled student debt, tuition costs, and their ties to corporate interests. Bacow, in particular, faced pointed questions about Harvard's massive endowment and the university's refusal to use its resources to address skyrocketing tuition and student loan debt. Both Reif and Gutmann were grilled on how their institutions have prioritized securing donations from wealthy alumni and corporate entities over the well-being of students and faculty. The hearing exposed a troubling pattern where the presidents of these prestigious institutions seemed more concerned with maintaining their institutions' financial health than with addressing the needs of their campus communities.
Legacy admissions, a practice entrenched at many of these elite schools, also came under fire during the hearings. Critics argued that such policies perpetuate inequality, giving children of alumni—many of whom come from wealthy backgrounds—unfair advantages in the admissions process. This has contributed to the growing perception that these universities, while claiming to offer merit-based opportunities, are fundamentally shaped by privilege and corporate interests.
These public confrontations highlighted the growing frustration with university presidents who are seen as out of touch with the everyday realities facing students and faculty, as well as the increasing influence of money and corporate interests in higher education. The presidents of these universities, once seen as respected leaders, have become targets of anger and resentment, with many on Capitol Hill and on campus calling for a shift in how these institutions are governed.
These are just a few examples of elite universities where the power structure has shifted toward those who have the financial means to dictate the terms of the campus experience. As tuition costs rise and student loan debt becomes a crushing burden for many, university presidents seem more determined than ever to serve the interests of trustees and donors, rather than advocating for the people who should be their true constituents: the students, faculty, and staff who make up the heart of the academic community.
The impact of this shift has been profound. On campuses across the country, students are increasingly feeling that their voices don’t matter. Faculty members, once seen as the intellectual core of the institution, are being sidelined in favor of administrators who prioritize financial concerns over academic integrity. And staff members—many of whom are underpaid and overworked—are being pushed to the margins as well.
But it’s not just students who are feeling the heat. Faculty and staff have found their own platforms for protest increasingly under attack. At places like Yale University, where former President Peter Salovey faced criticism for neglecting the needs of faculty and for his lukewarm responses to issues like labor rights and the treatment of graduate workers, professors staged walkouts and organized petitions to voice their discontent with the administration's disregard for their well-being.
In this new era, university presidents are no longer the beloved leaders of intellectual discourse—they are the gatekeepers of corporate power, more concerned with securing funding from wealthy donors than with fostering an inclusive, open, and critical academic environment. The fallout from this shift is only growing, as campuses become hotbeds of dissent, with students, faculty, and staff increasingly questioning the direction of higher education and the people at the helm.
As the divide between administration and the campus community continues to widen, one thing is clear: the once-admired university president is now among the most hated figures on campus, seen not as a champion of academic values, but as an enforcer of an increasingly political and profit-driven agenda.
In the spring of 2024, a federal court issued an injunction preventing the U.S. Department of Education (ED) from fully implementing the Saving on a Valuable Education (SAVE) repayment plan. Since that ruling the program’s fate has remained uncertain, and now that the 8th Circuit Court has affirmed the blockage of SAVE it is unclear whether borrowers will be able to remain in the payment plan.
Following the federal ruling in the spring of 2024, ED was barred from canceling loans eligible for forgiveness under the SAVE, Pay As You Earn (PAYE) and Income-Contingent Repayment (ICR) plans.
By July 2024, the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals blocked the SAVE plan in its entirety which led to borrowers who were able to enroll in the program being placed into an interest-free forbearance, where they have remained since.
On February 18, 2025, the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals issued its long-awaited ruling, siding with the Republican-led states that filed suit against former President Biden’s administration. The court upheld the injunction, continuing to block the SAVE plan in its entirety, including the forgiveness provisions, which subsequently blocked the administration from processing forgiveness for borrowers enrolled in PAYE and ICR plans as well.
Notably, the ruling also directed the lower court to strengthen the injunction, stating that the block on the SAVE plan should be broader. The decision explicitly ordered the lower court to enjoin both the full SAVE plan ruling and what has been referred to as the "hybrid rule."
The hybrid rule was ED's attempt to continue processing time-based forgiveness applications by relying on the forgiveness provisions of the 2015 Revised Pay As You Earn (REPAYE) plan as well as establishing monthly payments for the SAVE plan using the REPAYE plans calculation that used 10% of discretionary income, versus the SAVE plans expected 5%. The 8th Circuit’s recent ruling continues the block for this effort and effectively prevents ED from approving forgiveness applications under both SAVE and REPAYE provisions. ED in late 2024 reestablished the PAYE and ICR plans (which had been sunsetted in the regulations establishing the SAVE plan) so borrowers had additional choices for repayment plans, but debt forgiveness was and remains blocked for these plans as they fall under the same statutory affirming language as the SAVE and REPAYE plans.
It is important to note that Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF) is established separately in statute and is not threatened by legal challenges to the SAVE plan.
The case will now return to the Eastern Missouri lower district court, which is tasked with issuing a final ruling on the fate of the SAVE plan. There has been no public reaction to the ruling of the 8th Circuit Court by the plaintiffs or the Trump administration, so it’s hard to assume what the next steps will be.
NASFAA will be following the case as it continues to the lower court.
About NASFAA The National Association of Student Financial Aid Administrators (NASFAA) is the only national, nonprofit association with a primary focus on information dissemination, professional development, and legislative and regulatory analysis related to federal student aid programs authorized under Title IV of the Higher Education Act of 1965, as amended. Our membership consists of more than 29,000 financial aid professionals at nearly 3,000 colleges, universities, and career schools across the country. NASFAA member institutions serve nine out of every 10 undergraduates in the United States.
As the nation grapples with profound social and economic inequities, U.S. law schools have become a critical yet overlooked institution in perpetuating these disparities. From shaping the legal minds that go on to influence policy to training future attorneys who occupy the nation's corridors of power, law schools are playing an outsized role in entrenching systems of privilege, rather than dismantling them.
One of the most glaring manifestations of this failure is the Trump-era Supreme Court, whose composition has shifted dramatically due to the influence of elite law schools. Justices such as Brett Kavanaugh (Yale Law), Neil Gorsuch (Harvard Law), and Amy Coney Barrett (Notre Dame Law) have reshaped the Court in the image of conservative ideologies. These justices, primarily from elite institutions, have consistently sided with corporate interests over public welfare. Their rulings on critical issues like voting rights (Shelby County v. Holder, 2013), abortion access (Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, 2022), and corporate regulation (South Dakota v. Wayfair, Inc., 2018) have had profound consequences, amplifying inequalities and reducing access to justice for marginalized communities. The legal minds trained in these prestigious law schools have moved away from serving the public, instead reinforcing the status quo and further consolidating power in the hands of the wealthy elite.
This trend is compounded by the overwhelming concentration of law school graduates in a handful of sectors, particularly Washington, D.C., and on Wall Street. A report from the National Association for Law Placement (NALP) reveals that nearly 70% of graduates from top law schools—such as Harvard, Yale, and Columbia—secure positions in large corporate law firms or government roles. Meanwhile, those who enter public service or work in underfunded legal fields such as public defense face a starkly different reality. According to the American Bar Association (ABA), the average starting salary for a public defender in 2020 was around $50,000, compared to $190,000 in major corporate law firms. This disparity highlights the economic realities facing graduates who pursue careers in public interest law.
Law schools exacerbate these inequities through their admissions processes, which heavily favor students from affluent backgrounds. A 2019 study by the Equality of Opportunity Projectfound that 70% of students attending Harvard Law, Yale Law, and other Ivy League law schools come from families in the top 20% income bracket, while less than 5% come from the bottom 20%. This financial divide is perpetuated by high tuition costs—Harvard Law's tuition and fees for the 2024 academic year exceed $70,000 annually—making it inaccessible to many who might otherwise have the talent and potential to succeed in law.
Furthermore, law schools’ connections with corporate sponsors and wealthy alumni networks often shape the curriculum and career pathways offered to students. As a result, legal education has become increasingly oriented toward corporate law, perpetuating a system that values prestige and financial gain over social justice. A 2021 report from the American Bar Foundation indicated that nearly half of law school graduates work in the private sector within the first ten years of their careers, most of them in high-paying corporate firms or lobbying groups, which further concentrates legal power in the hands of the elite.
The oversupply of lawyers entering corporate sectors—many of whom attend the nation’s top law schools—has created a system where elite law firms and government agencies, such as the U.S. Department of Justice and major regulatory bodies, dominate legal decision-making. This trend is also visible in the disproportionate representation of law school graduates in Washington, D.C., where they shape policy in ways that benefit large corporations and financial institutions, while leaving the needs of the general public unmet.
A central aspect of the legal system that perpetuates inequality is the way the billionaire class profits from the injustice system itself. Wealthy individuals and corporate entities have found ways to exploit the legal system to their advantage, contributing to the concentration of wealth and power. Many billionaires and large corporations fund legal battles designed to weaken regulations, block labor rights, and influence policy decisions that benefit their financial interests.
For example, major private prison companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group, both of which have ties to influential law firms, profit from the mass incarceration of predominantly Black and Latino individuals. These private companies lobby for harsher sentencing laws and immigration policies that fill their prisons, creating a cycle of profit that thrives on systemic inequality. Legal professionals trained in elite law schools frequently represent these corporations, further entrenching the power dynamics that keep vulnerable populations incarcerated.
The billionaire class also reaps the benefits of legal loopholes and tax avoidance schemes facilitated by top-tier law firms. Lawyers trained in Ivy League schools often advise wealthy clients on ways to hide their assets, evade taxes, and exploit the legal system for personal gain, which further exacerbates income inequality. Law firms and the lawyers who work in them profit immensely by providing these services, while the broader public bears the burden of underfunded social programs and public services.
The impact of law schools’ role in the legal system is not a new development, but has historical roots. For much of U.S. history, the courts and legal institutions have played a pivotal role in limiting democracy and reinforcing inequalities. However, there have been pivotal moments when the courts, often driven by lawyers trained in the nation's top schools, expanded democracy and fought for justice.
A key moment in the history of expanding democracy was the work of Thurgood Marshall and Charles Hamilton Houston, both of whom were products of Howard University School of Law—a historically Black institution that stood in stark contrast to the elite, mostly white law schools of their time. Marshall, who went on to become the first African American Supreme Court Justice, and Houston, his mentor, fought tirelessly against segregation and racial discrimination. Houston's strategy, dubbed "the 'liberal' approach to civil rights," involved challenging discriminatory laws through the courts, using legal arguments rooted in equal protection and the promise of the 14th Amendment.
Houston's legal battles laid the groundwork for the landmark Brown v. Board of Education (1954) case, where the Supreme Court, under the influence of Marshall's legal strategies, overturned the doctrine of “separate but equal” and declared racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional. This ruling, perhaps one of the most profound examples of the courts expanding democracy, was achieved through the work of legal professionals committed to social justice, many of whom came from institutions outside the mainstream elite law schools.
Unfortunately, the trend of the courts advancing civil rights was not consistent. The Dred Scott v. Sandford (1857) decision, where the Supreme Court ruled that African Americans could not be citizens, and Plessy v. Ferguson (1896), which upheld racial segregation, serve as stark reminders of how the legal system can be wielded to entrench inequality and limit democracy. The very law schools that trained many of the justices responsible for these rulings were also responsible for shaping the legal education that upheld the racist and exclusionary structures of the time.
Today, the cycle of legal education serving the interests of the wealthy and powerful continues. While the courts have sometimes played a role in broadening civil rights and democracy, too often they have sided with corporate interests, limiting progress. Lawyers trained in elite law schools continue to occupy spaces where the rules of the game are rigged in favor of those with wealth and influence.
To reverse this trend, law schools must take deliberate action. They must shift their focus from training lawyers for the highest-paying and most prestigious jobs to producing attorneys who are dedicated to the public good. This includes increasing financial accessibility, offering more scholarships for low-income students, and reevaluating the curriculum to emphasize social justice, public interest law, and equitable legal reforms. Moreover, legal education should challenge the structures of wealth and power, ensuring that future lawyers are equipped to dismantle the systems that benefit billionaires and corporations at the expense of justice.
The influence of law schools in perpetuating inequality cannot be overstated. The future of the legal profession—and, by extension, the justice system—depends on whether these institutions can embrace a new mission: one that fosters true equality under the law and dismantles the structures of privilege that continue to shape our society.
The Higher Education Inquirer has decided to remove Google Ads from our website. We believe this is in the best interest of our readers, who are often inundated with commercial advertising throughout their days and nights. We will, however, continue to promote businesses like College Viability App and TuitionFit that benefit consumers.
Our journalism is different than most others who cover higher education. Like those other outlets, we report the news, but that is not our focus. And like a few outlets, we also do time-consuming investigative work. We recognize the outstanding contributions of dedicated journalists, but these times, the 2020s, call good people to do more--much more.
The Higher Education Inquirer (HEI) follows the legacy of the muckrakers from the early 20th century. HEI delves into in-depth investigative reporting, uncovering scandals, institutional failures, and systemic inequalities in colleges, universities, and their related businesses. Journalists like Upton Sinclair (who exposed the meatpacking industry) and Ida Tarbell (who revealed monopolistic practices in oil) used their platforms to spotlight hidden problems. In a similar vein, HEI
carries this tradition forward by focusing on the higher
education industry and connects it with the world outside the ivory
tower.
Muckraking journalists of the past often focused on giving a voice to the voiceless, and in today's context, HEI highlights issues such as racial, class, and gender disparities in education and the work that should follow. These topics have become more prominent in the 2020s as society grapples with the effects of systemic inequalities and how marginalized communities are underserved and underrepresented in elite institutions.
Just as muckrakers' stories led to reforms (e.g., child labor laws, anti-trust regulations), HEI aims to create change in higher education by influencing public opinion and policy. Change that can take decades to create and months to lose. By exposing unethical practices and systemic problems, such as the growing burden of student loans, the corporatization of universities, and complicity in climate change and authoritarianism, we hope to prompt action from lawmakers and educators to implement more equitable solutions.
Importance of This Type of Journalism in the 2020s:
In the 2020s, higher education is undergoing significant challenges, to include skyrocketing tuition, an increasing reliance on adjunct faculty, and concerns over the value of a college degree. Investigative journalism like ours holds universities accountable for the way they handle these issues. It serves as a check on the growing power and wealth of educational institutions, particularly in light of their increasing commercialization and influence over public policy.
The 2020s have brought heightened awareness of issues like racial inequality, mental health concerns, and the widening gap between wealthy and poor students. Investigative journalism continues to expose these problems, helping to drive conversations about fairness and equity in education. In an era when many people feel disconnected from powerful institutions, journalism that uncovers uncomfortable truths is essential for mobilizing change.
Higher education has been seen by many as a beacon of knowledge, innovation, and fairness, yet there are growing concerns about its accessibility and integrity. Investigative journalism done well helps maintain public trust in higher education by ensuring that universities live up to their purported values. HEI helps the public see when universities exploit students, misuse funds, or engage in unethical practices.
In the 2020s, many key policy issues—such as student debt, the cost of education, and educational access—are hot topics. Journalism that scrutinizes higher education can influence policy reform, potentially leading to legislative action aimed at reducing student debt, increasing transparency in university finances, and addressing fair hiring practices.
War and Peace:
War is often driven by political, economic, and technological forces, and universities are deeply intertwined with these drivers. Many top universities have longstanding partnerships with military contractors, defense organizations, and intelligence agencies. Research funded by these institutions may directly contribute to the development of weapons or military technologies, some of which are used in conflicts around the world.
The Higher Education Inquirer investigates how these partnerships influence the direction of research, as well as the ethical implications of universities prioritizing military contracts over other forms of academic inquiry. Similarly, university programs train future leaders who will shape foreign policy or lead military operations, and HEI will hold them accountable for the potential consequences of those actions.
On the other hand, universities can be spaces where peace studies, conflict resolution programs, and global diplomacy are taught—an important counterbalance that HEI highlights, showing how academia can be a force for peace amidst the militarization of knowledge.
Genocide:
Genocides are often preceded by a climate of division and dehumanization, and universities are often the breeding grounds for ideologies that either challenge or perpetuate these dynamics. Throughout history, some academic institutions have provided intellectual support to regimes that perpetrate genocide, whether through the training of military officers or the dissemination of harmful nationalist ideologies.
Conversely, universities can also serve as platforms for the resistance against genocide, with professors and students leading efforts to expose atrocities, advocate for human rights, and prevent violence.
The Higher Education Inquirer investigates how universities have both been complicit in, and resisted, the ideologies that fuel genocide. HEI explores the ways in which certain university-funded research or prominent academic figures have either contributed to genocidal narratives or become strong advocates for justice and reconciliation in the aftermath of such horrors.
Global Climate Change:
Climate change represents a massive, existential crisis that touches every part of society, and universities are both contributors to and leaders in tackling this challenge.
HEI investigates how universities have been complicit in exacerbating the climate crisis—whether through fossil fuel investments, ties to unsustainable industries, or research that furthers environmentally harmful practices. At the same time, universities are also at the cutting edge of climate science, sustainable technologies, and environmental activism.
The Higher Education Inquirer investigates whether universities are doing enough to address their own carbon footprints, promote sustainable practices on campus, and foster a generation of leaders who are committed to climate justice. In a world where universities are increasingly seen as both perpetrators of environmental degradation and potential agents of change, HEI’s investigative reporting is crucial in holding these institutions accountable.
Mass Incarceration:
The United States has one of the highest incarceration rates in the world, and universities are deeply involved in the systems that perpetuate this crisis. Many universities participate in research that supports law enforcement, surveillance technologies, or criminal justice policies, which can fuel the growth of the prison-industrial complex.
The Higher Education Inquirer examines how higher education sustains and challenges mass incarceration. For instance, some universities benefit from partnerships with prisons, offering education programs to incarcerated individuals, but also facing criticism for their indirect role in perpetuating a system that disproportionately targets people of color.
HEI investigates whether universities are actively working to dismantle mass incarceration through programs that promote restorative justice, education in prisons, or advocacy for systemic reform, or whether they are complicit in perpetuating the status quo through research and policy influence that supports harsh criminal justice policies.
Uniting These Issues:
The Higher Education Inquirer brings these issues together by demonstrating how universities are not isolated entities but integral parts of a global system that influences war, human rights, the environment, and justice.
For example, universities that are heavily funded by military contracts should be implicated in fueling global conflict and war, while also contributing to climate change through the development of harmful technologies. At the same time, these same universities often fail to adequately address the ways in which their research, policies, and curricula shape or reinforce systemic racism and mass incarceration.
By following the muckraker tradition of exposing corruption and exploitation, HEI investigates how the pursuit of profit, power, and prestige within academia intersects with larger global crises.
Investigative journalism that connects the dots between higher education, war, genocide, climate change, and mass incarceration is crucial to fully understanding these issues and holding institutions accountable for their roles in perpetuating or mitigating them.
In the 2020s, when universities hold immense cultural, political, and economic power, the Higher Education Inquirer continues the legacy of the muckrakers by pushing for a more ethical, transparent, and socially responsible approach to higher education—one that reveals the problems of the world and to its solutions.
The Higher Education Inquirer (HEI) is in solidarity with nonviolent protests against the Trump administration. Two upcoming events include a 24-hour boycott of Amazon, Walmart, and Best Buy (February 28th) and a 10-day General Strike. We hope enough people join these and other nonviolent protests to make our messages heard loudly enough. To our readers, if you know of any public protests and other nonviolent acts of civil disobedience that we can highlight, please contact us.
Gil Scott Heron's "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" (1971) urges us to critically engage with the world, empower communities, and move beyond passive learning to active, transformative action. His work was born in the context of the Civil Rights Movement and the Black Power movement, and it serves as a reminder of how history and sociology can inform contemporary struggles. Will we heed the message?
The Republican Resolution (HCR 14) to establish $2 Trillion in budget cuts and more tax breaks for the rich is available here. While those deep cuts are planned, the GOP is requiring an increase in the debt limit so that American billionaires are rewarded. These rewards are not just in the form of tax cuts for the rich, but in the removal of financial and environmental guardrails. At the same time, the Resolution calls for increased oversight by the Federal Government in other areas of concern by the right wing US government.
This graphic is part of an email from a US Department of Education official who was recently fired without good cause. Our experiences with this dedicated public servant were always excellent, something we cannot say about others in the DC crowd. The graphic displays a number of important measures that have been enacted by ED-FSA (Federal Student Aid) over the last six years--and one giant failure, general debt relief for more than 30 million citizens. We wish the best for those Department of Education workers who remain, and who may see their jobs made more difficult, privatized, or moved to other agencies. The work cannot be easy for anyone--especially those who care about the folks they serve--the consumers and their families who are less likely to receive justice in the coming months and years.
The Trump administration has issued a two-week ultimatum for schools and universities across the United States to end all programs related to diversity, equity and inclusion — DEI — or risk losing federal funding. The Department of Education has already canceled some $600 million in grants for teacher training on race, social justice and other topics as part of its crusade against "woke" policies. This comes as President Donald Trump has said he wants to abolish the agency and tapped major Trump donor and former professional wrestling executive Linda McMahon to carry out that goal; she is expected to be confirmed by the Senate with little or no Republican opposition. Education scholar Julian Vasquez Heilig, who teaches at Western Michigan University, says Trump's moves are part of "an attempt to privatize education" in the United States, with DEI used as a wedge to accomplish a larger restructuring of social structures. "Higher education hasn't faced a crisis like this since potentially McCarthyism."
If you report on US colleges and universities, get to know these 19 higher education databases
by Denise-Marie Ordway, The Journalist's Resource
No matter what issue you’re covering on the higher education beat, your story will be stronger if you ground it in high-quality data. Fortunately for journalists, government agencies and academic researchers have gathered data on an array of topics and made it available online for free. You just need to know where to find it.
That’s why we created this tip sheet. It spotlights 19 higher education databases we think you ought to know about. This list is not meant to be exhaustive. We included databases that will help journalists report on some of the most common and pressing higher education issues.
Note that most of these databases are the projects of federal agencies such as the U.S. Department of Education, U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs and National Science Foundation. We’ll update this list periodically. Please bookmark it and share it with colleagues because it’s sure to come in handy.
This searchable database, created by the National Center for Education Statistics, provides basic information on nearly 7,000 U.S. colleges and universities. Use it to look up information about an institution’s admission rate, tuition, undergraduate enrollment, academic programs, athletic programs and other characteristics. You can also compare institutions.
The National Center for Education Statistics, commonly referred to as NCES, is part of the Institute of Education Sciences at the U.S. Department of Education.
Journalists can use this online platform, another NCES project, to find detailed information on various topics across K-12 education and higher education. Sift through decades of data that the NCES has collected on college costs, student demographics, student debt, faculty demographics, faculty salaries, student graduation and dropout rates, and other subjects.
DataLab’s Tables Library contains more than 8,000 data tables published by the NCES. Journalists who are comfortable working with data can use the platform’s PowerStats tool to create data visualizations and run linear and logistic regressions.
You’ll find thousands of government data sets and data-heavy reports here -- the federal government’s open data site. You can search for education data by location and government agency as well as by topic category and dataset format.
Use this higher education database, maintained by the U.S. Department of Education’s Office of Postsecondary Education, to find information on crime at U.S. colleges and universities that receive federal funding. You can look at three years of statistics for a single school or generate reports to examine trends across schools.
Crimes that institutions report annually to the federal government include murder, aggravated assault, rape, hate crimes, domestic violence, motor vehicle theft and violations of state or local liquor laws. Schools also must report arrests as well as any disciplinary action taken against students accused of certain crimes.
For student loan default rates, check out this higher education database, which is maintained by Federal Student Aid, an office of the U.S. Department of Education. You can search default rates by state, city, institution, institution type and degree program.
This is a national database of K-12 schools, colleges and universities that are being investigated by the federal Office for Civil Rights, a division of the U.S. Department of Education that investigates discrimination complaints. Here you can find information on investigations of alleged Title IX and Title VI violations. Title IX is a federal law that prohibits sex-based discrimination at K-12 schools, colleges and universities that receive federal financial assistance. Title VI prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, color and national origin.
This research database houses data collected as part of the Healthy Minds Study, an annual survey that asks college students about their mental health and their school environment, including campus safety, peer support and mental health services. More than 850,000 people at more than 600 colleges and universities have completed the survey since its launch in 2007.
The principal investigators of the Healthy Minds Study are researchers at the University of California-Los Angeles, University of Michigan, Wayne State University and Boston University.
Tufts University’s Center for Information & Research on Civic Learning and Engagement -- commonly known as CIRCLE -- has created several online data tools journalists can use to obtain data for stories about young voters and civic engagement on college campuses. For example, its Youth Voting and Civic Engagement in America data tool allows journalists to examine the voting habits of young adults by state, county or congressional district.
If you’re looking into allegations of research fraud or misconduct, Retraction Watch can help. It maintains a database of retracted scientific papers that reporters can use to search for retractions connected to a specific researcher, university or research organization. There’s also a user guide. Retraction Watch’s parent organization is the nonprofit Center for Scientific Integrity.
Use this database, created by ProPublica, to look up tax returns and Form 990 filings for almost 2 million tax-exempt organizations, including non-profit colleges and universities. Form 990 filings contain information on an organization’s annual revenue, sources of revenue, expenses, and the names and salaries of its top executives.
The Community College Research Center’s website offers a variety of interactive platforms that allow journalists to explore data on U.S. community colleges and their students. For example, one focuses on community college finances during the pandemic. Another focuses on dual enrollment programs, which allow high school students to enroll at local colleges to earn college credits. The Community College Research Center is located at Columbia University.
This project provides data on minority-serving institutions, or MSIs. Some of these colleges and universities were founded specifically to serve racial minorities -- for example, historically Black colleges and universities only served Black students for decades. Many MSIs are historically white institutions where enrollment has grown more racially and ethnically diverse over time.
The “Data & Reports” section of the Association of American Medical Colleges’ website offers a variety of reports and datasets on medical school funding, applicants, students, faculty and tuition. It also provides information on topics such as research lab productivity and medical students’ experiences with sexual harassment.
The American Bar Association provides reports and spreadsheets featuring data on U.S. law schools, law school enrollment and law students’ bar passage rates in the “Section of Legal Education and Admissions to the Bar” of its website. It also provides reports on trends related to tuition, student and faculty demographics and student-faculty ratios.
Go to the College Board’s website for data and reports on the SAT college-entrance exam as well as the Advanced Placement program, which provides college-level curricula and exams for use at high schools worldwide. The College Board, a nonprofit organization that administers both, collects and makes public a variety of data on AP exam scores, SAT scores, students who take the AP exam, students who take the SAT and how both programs have grown over time.
Journalists can use this U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs database to compare the GI Bill benefits offered at individual trade schools, higher education institutions and employers across the U.S. The GI Bill helps U.S. military veterans and their family members pay for college or for personal expenses while training for a job.
Each year, the National Center for Science and Engineering Statistics conducts a census of colleges and universities that spend at least $150,000 on research and development. The center, part of the National Science Foundation, publishes data tables and reports on the results of its Higher Education Research and Development Survey. Journalists can use them to find information on how much money institutions have spent doing research in different fields, their sources of research funding and how much schools spent on researcher salaries versus equipment, software and other expenses.
Commonly referred to as ERIC, the Education Resources Information Center is a searchable database of education research and information found in academic journals, books and government reports. While it’s free to use ERIC, which is sponsored by the Institute of Education Sciences at the U.S. Department of Education, journalists might need subscriptions to access many journal articles and book chapters.
Elite universities, long considered the pinnacle of higher education, have become increasingly entwined in a broader conversation about privilege, access, and power. From their controversial legacy admissions practices to their outsized political influence, these institutions are not merely places of learning—they are gatekeepers of social and economic power, shaping the future through both exclusion and influence. Beyond their academic roles, these universities have extended their reach into local communities, using their enormous wealth and influence to take control of land, shape urban landscapes, and solidify their power within regional politics.
The legacy admissions system, which provides preferential treatment to the children and grandchildren of alumni, is a glaring example of how these universities perpetuate privilege. Institutions such as Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Stanford—universities that consistently rank among the top in the nation—have long utilized this practice to ensure that the doors to elite education remain open to those already within the circles of power. By admitting students with lesser academic qualifications solely because of their family connections, these schools continue a long tradition of insularity, effectively reserving spaces for the wealthy and well-connected. Despite growing opposition, including recent moves by California’s private colleges to ban legacy admissions, the practice remains a powerful force, locking out more qualified, diverse applicants and ensuring that the privileged maintain access to elite institutions.
In addition to these admissions practices, elite universities exert considerable influence on the political landscape. The recent revelations about their political spending—millions funneled into federal campaigns, overwhelmingly favoring Democratic candidates—highlight a disturbing trend. Universities like Harvard, Stanford, and Johns Hopkins are not neutral players in the policy arena; they are active participants in shaping the very policies that benefit their interests. Whether it’s lobbying for federal funding, securing advantageous tax policies, or influencing regulations related to higher education, these universities use their wealth to protect and expand their power. These schools are not just centers of academic pursuit—they are political players in their own right, using their financial clout to shape the policies that govern education, tax law, and more.
Beyond their influence in academia and politics, elite universities increasingly exert power over the very land on which they sit. In many cities, top-tier universities like Harvard, Stanford, Columbia, and the University of Chicago are not just educational institutions—they are economic and political powerhouses. With multi-billion-dollar endowments, these institutions often wield more financial clout than entire cities. They routinely expand their campuses, purchasing properties, and in some cases, entire neighborhoods, often displacing long-standing communities in the process. This process, commonly known as "university-led gentrification," transforms urban spaces, driving up property values and rents while pushing out lower-income residents.
Universities often justify their land acquisitions as part of their mission to expand their campuses, build new research centers, and offer more housing for students and faculty. However, the impact on local communities can be severe. In many cases, universities use their tax-exempt status to avoid paying property taxes on the land they acquire, depriving local governments of revenue while also claiming a disproportionate share of urban space. This allows them to grow their influence without contributing fully to the neighborhoods in which they are embedded.
This land-grabbing behavior has sparked resistance in cities across the country. In Boston, for example, Harvard and MIT have been critiqued for taking over large swaths of land in the Allston and Kendall Square neighborhoods, displacing low-income residents and local businesses. In New York, Columbia’s expansion into Harlem sparked protests from community members who felt their homes and livelihoods were being sacrificed to the university’s growth. In many cases, these universities lobby local governments to secure favorable zoning laws, tax breaks, and exemptions that allow them to build at will and maintain their growing empire.
Both legacy admissions and political donations underscore a fundamental truth: elite universities are not just educational institutions—they are institutions of power. They maintain an oligarchic structure that privileges those already in positions of wealth and influence, while shaping local economies and political systems to ensure their continued dominance. By hoarding access to elite education, they perpetuate a system in which the children of the wealthy have a head start in both education and society, while simultaneously lobbying for policies that further cement their own influence. Through their land acquisitions, gentrification, political donations, and admissions practices, these universities continue to consolidate their power, reinforcing an elitist status quo that leaves many outside looking in.
In all of this, university presidents have increasingly positioned themselves as moral arbiters, asserting their institutions’ commitment to social justice, inclusion, and equality. Yet this moral high ground becomes precarious when their administrations take extreme measures to suppress resistance. Protests against their policies—whether regarding gentrification, climate change, or labor rights—are often met with heavy-handed tactics. University leaders, eager to preserve their public image, have been known to deploy security forces, call in the police, or even collaborate with local governments to disband protests. In some cases, these universities have resorted to legal action against student and faculty activists, silencing dissent through threats of discipline, expulsion, or other punitive measures.
This duplicity becomes even more apparent when considering the moral stands many university leaders take in public, promoting inclusivity, diversity, and progressive values, while simultaneously suppressing those who challenge their institution’s power dynamics. In the face of mounting resistance from marginalized communities or student groups, these leaders prefer to maintain control over their campuses and public narratives, often using administrative power to quash any movements that may disrupt the status quo.
Yet, history has shown that even the most entrenched systems can change, and university presidents are not beyond the possibility of transformation. Just as some figures in the Bible experienced profound revelations that led them to change course and right their wrongs, university leaders, too, can have moments of reckoning. Consider the example of King David, whose heart was changed after his confrontation with the prophet Nathan over his sin (2 Samuel 12). David, once blinded by his own power, repented and chose a path of humility and righteousness. In the same way, university presidents, confronted by the voices of resistance, public outcry, or moral awakening, could choose to lead their institutions toward a more just and equitable future. In the New Testament, Saul’s conversion on the road to Damascus (Acts 9) serves as another powerful reminder that no one is beyond redemption. Saul, who once persecuted early Christians, was transformed into Paul, one of the most influential apostles in Christian history. Similarly, a university president could choose to recognize the harm their institution has caused and decide to enact transformative policies that benefit marginalized communities and dismantle the systems of privilege they have helped sustain.
Moses is another figure whose story exemplifies the power of divine revelation to shift course. As a prince of Egypt, Moses had everything at his disposal, yet he chose to stand up to Pharaoh when he recognized the injustice of the Hebrew people’s oppression. His moment of conviction led him to free his people from slavery, even though it required courage to defy a powerful ruler (Exodus 3-4). In the same way, a university president must stand up to the powerful trustees and donors who expect to maintain the status quo. To act in the face of such resistance requires profound moral courage—a willingness to lead against entrenched interests that protect wealth and privilege.
Another key figure in the Old Testament is Esther, who displayed extraordinary courage in a moment of great moral clarity. She risked her life by standing up to King Xerxes to save the Jewish people from annihilation (Esther 4). As the queen, she was in a powerful position, but it was only when she realized the enormity of the injustice at hand that she chose to act. Similarly, university presidents with the power to challenge the status quo can, like Esther, use their positions to advocate for justice and equality, even if it means confronting powerful forces that wish to preserve an unjust order.
As university presidents come face to face with the overwhelming issues of racism, injustice, and climate chaos, there exists the possibility of moral revelation—a turning point where they confront the gravity of their actions and their institutions’ role in perpetuating harm. The growing calls for racial justice, fueled by movements like Black Lives Matter, demand an acknowledgment of the systemic racism embedded in these universities. Whether through the disproportionate representation of wealthy white students or the stark inequities in faculty and leadership diversity, these institutions must reckon with their participation in racial oppression. Similarly, as the climate crisis deepens, universities’ investments in fossil fuels and their ongoing complicity in the destruction of the environment have become focal points for student activists and global environmental movements. Universities, often perceived as beacons of progress, have a responsibility to divest from industries contributing to ecological collapse and instead use their vast resources for environmental justice.
And yet, one of the greatest challenges these university leaders will face lies not only in the resistance of external forces like protestors, activists, and the general public, but also in the powerful trustees and donors who hold significant sway over the institutions’ direction. Many universities are closely tied to wealthy benefactors and influential trustees whose interests often align with maintaining the status quo—whether through preserving investment strategies, political stances, or traditional admissions processes. These figures are not simply investors in the university's future; they are powerful stakeholders with the resources to shape institutional policies and procedures, often with little regard for social justice or environmental responsibility.
For a university president to truly lead with courage and integrity, they must be willing to go against these powerful forces. This would require challenging the entrenched interests of those who have long benefited from an elite, exclusionary system and are reluctant to embrace the radical changes needed to address systemic injustice. It takes immense fortitude to stand up to trustees and donors who view universities as tools for preserving their wealth and influence, rather than forces for good in the world.
But university presidents who choose to go against these forces can become true moral leaders. They can take inspiration from figures like Moses, who boldly defied Pharaoh’s power to liberate the oppressed, or Esther, whose bravery in standing up to the king saved her people (Esther 4). In doing so, they would not only transform their institutions but also serve as examples of ethical leadership in a time when such leadership is sorely needed.
The courage to defy powerful donors and trustees would mark a dramatic shift in how elite universities operate. Presidents could, if they choose, champion a new vision—one where social justice, racial equality, and environmental sustainability are at the forefront of institutional priorities. Just as Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt toward a promised land of freedom, so too could university presidents lead their institutions out of the grip of elitism and corporate influence, steering them toward a more equitable and just future.
Both legacy admissions, political donations, land control, and the suppression of protest point to a deeper issue: elite universities have built themselves into institutions of unparalleled power. These universities operate not only as educational establishments but also as political and economic entities, constantly reinforcing a structure of privilege, wealth, and exclusion. The dissonance between their public declarations of moral authority and their actions to protect entrenched power reveals the true nature of these institutions. They are not the bastions of free inquiry and social good they often claim to be—they are powerful, self-interested players in a system that serves to preserve the very inequalities they profess to challenge.
However, the possibility remains that these institutions—guided by transformative leadership—could embrace a new path. University presidents could heed the call for justice, as many leaders in history have, and change the trajectory of their institutions, opting to lead in ways that promote true equity, racial justice, and environmental stewardship. These universities—once seen as places of learning and opportunity—could become what they claim to be: inclusive, just, and truly committed to the betterment of society. They are the architects of the future they seek to create: one where the privileged no longer remain firmly entrenched at the top, and where political, economic, and educational structures are reshaped for the common good. Whether through legacy admissions, political spending, land control, or suppressing protest, these institutions continue to consolidate their power, but with the right leadership, they can still pivot toward a more just future—one that embodies the values they espouse.
[Editor's note: This essay, written for elite university presidents, is intended as a rhetorical device rather than a statement of facts. We find that everyone has their own "mythology" or set of mythologies they follow. As with all our work, we value your feedback.]
Donald Trump's first weeks in office have been a whirlwind of executive orders, dramatic pronouncements, hasty reversals, and — most of all — confusion.
What will become of various streams of federal funding for higher ed? Will Immigration and Customs Enforcement show up on campuses? (And if so, what will colleges do?) Will the Department of Education be shuttered – and how would that impact colleges? A recent survey of around 100 college presidents found that 78 percent found the following statement to be true: “Donald Trump is going to war with higher education.”
Rick Seltzer has cut through the chaos every morning in The Chronicle's subscriber-only newsletter, the Daily Briefing. No one has done a better job of distinguishing signal from noise and articulating the specific stakes for colleges.
Join us on Thursday, February 20 at 1 p.m. ET / 10 a.m. PT for a discussion featuring Rick and Sarah Brown, a Chronicle senior editor. At this event, Rick and Sarah will make sense of Trump's first month in office and look ahead at what it portends for colleges and the people who work at them.
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you know that Truthout is a nonprofit and independently funded by
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Trump appears bent on ridding schools of dangerous practices like critical thinking and an unsanitized study of history.
In the initial days of his second term, President Donald Trump issued several executive orders “seeking
to control how schools teach about race and gender, direct more tax
dollars to private schools, and deport pro-Palestinian protesters.” On January 29, 2025, he signed the “Ending Radical Indoctrination in K-12 Schooling”
executive order, which mandates the elimination of curricula that the
administration deems as promoting “radical, anti-American ideologies.”
This executive order is not just an attack on critical race theory or
teachings about systemic racism — it is a cornerstone of an
authoritarian ideology designed to eliminate critical thought, suppress
historical truth and strip educators of their autonomy. Under the guise
of combating “divisiveness,” it advances a broader war on education as a
democratizing force, turning schools into dead zones of the
imagination. By threatening to strip federal funding from institutions
that refuse to conform, this policy functions as an instrument of
ideological indoctrination, enforcing a sanitized, nationalistic
narrative that erases histories of oppression and resistance while
deepening a culture of ignorance and compliance.
Concurrently, President Trump issued the “Expanding Educational Freedom and Opportunity for Families”
executive order, aiming to enhance school choice by redirecting federal
funds to support charter schools and voucher programs. This policy
enables parents to use public funds for private and religious school
tuition. While proponents claim that this legislation empowers parents
and fosters competition, in reality, it is a calculated effort to defund
and privatize public education, undermining it as a democratizing
public good. As part of a broader far right assault on education, this
policy redirects essential resources away from public schools, deepening
educational inequality and advancing an agenda that seeks to erode
public investment in a just and equitable society.
In the name of eliminating radical indoctrination in schools, a third executive order,
which purportedly aims at ending antisemitism, threatens to deport
pro-Palestinian student protesters by revoking their visas, warning that even those legally in the country could be targeted
for their political views. In a stark display of authoritarianism,
Trump’s executive order unapologetically stated that free speech would
not be tolerated. Reuters
made this clear in reporting that one fact sheet ominously declared: “I
will … quickly cancel the student visas of all Hamas sympathizers on
college campuses, which have been infested with radicalism like never
before. To all the resident aliens who joined in the pro-jihadist
protests, we put you on notice: come 2025, we will find you, and we will
deport you.”
By gutting federal oversight, he is handing the fate of education to
reactionary state legislatures and corporate interests, ensuring that
knowledge is shaped by a state held captive by billionaires and far
right extremists. This is the logic of authoritarianism: to hollow out
democratic institutions and replace education with white Christian
propaganda and a pedagogy of repression. At issue here is an attempt to
render an entire generation defenseless against the very forces seeking
to dominate them.
What we are witnessing is not just an educational crisis but a
full-scale war on institutions that not only defend democracy but enable
it. What is under siege in this attack is not only the critical
function of education but the very notion that it should be defined
through its vision of creating a central feature of democracy, educating
informed and critically engaged citizens.
These executive actions represent an upgraded and broader version of
McCarthyite and apartheid-era education that seeks to dictate how
schools teach about race and gender, funnel more taxpayer dollars into
private institutions, and deport Palestinian protesters. The irony is
striking: The White House defends these regressive measures of
sanitizing history, stripping away the rights of transgender students
and erasing critical race theory as efforts to “end indoctrination in
American education.” In truth, this is not about the pursuit of freedom
or open inquiry, nor is it about fostering an education that cultivates
informed, critically engaged citizens. At its core, this agenda is a
deliberate attack on education as a public good — one that threatens to
dismantle not only public institutions, but the very essence of public
and higher education and its culture of criticism and democracy. The
urgency of this moment cannot be overstated: The future of education
itself is at stake.
In the raging currents of contemporary political and cultural life,
where fascist ideologies are rising, one of the most insidious and
all-encompassing forces at play is the violence of forgetting — a plague
of historical amnesia. This phenomenon, which I have referred to as “organized forgetting,”
describes the systemic erasure of history and its violent consequences,
particularly in the public sphere. This is especially evident in the
current historical moment, when books are banned in
libraries, public schools and higher education across countries, such
as the United States, Hungary, India, China and Russia. Ignoring past
atrocities, historical injustices and uncomfortable truths about a
society’s foundation is not merely an oversight — it constitutes an
active form of violence that shapes both our collective consciousness
and political realities. What we are witnessing here is an assault by
the far right on memory that is inseparable from what Maximillian
Alvarez describes as a battle over power — over who is remembered, who
is erased, who is cast aside and who is forcibly reduced to something
less than human. This struggle is not just about history; it is about
whose stories are allowed to shape the present and the future. Alvarez captures this reality with striking clarity and is worth quoting at length:
Among the prizes at stake in the endless war of politics is history
itself. The battle for power is always a battle to determine who gets
remembered, how they will be recalled, where and in what forms their
memories will be preserved. In this battle, there is no room for neutral
parties: every history and counter-history must fight and scrap and
claw and spread and lodge itself in the world, lest it be forgotten or
forcibly erased. All history, in this sense, is the history of empire — a
bid for control of that greatest expanse of territory, the past.
Organized forgetting also helped fuel the resurgence of Donald Trump,
as truth and reason are being systematically replaced by lies,
corruption, denial and the weaponization of memory itself. A culture of
questioning, critique and vision is not simply disappearing in the
United States — it is actively maligned, disparaged and replaced by a
darkness that, as Ezra Klein
observes, is “stupefyingly vast, stretching from self-destructive
incompetence to muddling incoherence to authoritarian consolidation.”
This erosion affects institutions of law, civil society and education
— pillars that rely on memory, informed judgment and evidence to foster
historical understanding and civic responsibility. The attack on the
common good goes beyond the distractions of an “attention economy”designed
to distort reality; it reflects a deliberate effort to sever the ties
between history and meaning. Time is reduced to fragmented episodes,
stripped of the shared narratives that connect the past, present and
future.
This crisis embodies a profound collapse of memory, history,
education and democracy itself. A culture of manufactured ignorance —
rooted in the rejection of history, facts and critical thought — erases
accountability for electing a leader who incited insurrection and
branded his opponents as “enemies from within.” Such authoritarian
politics thrive on historical amnesia, lulling society into passivity,
eroding collective memory and subverting civic agency. This is
epitomized by Trump’s declaration
on “Fox & Friends” that he would punish schools that teach students
accurate U.S. history, including about slavery and racism in the
country. The call to silence dangerous memories is inseparable from the
violence of state terrorism — a force that censors and dehumanizes
dissent, escalating to the punishment, torture and imprisonment of
truth-tellers and critics who dare to hold oppressive power accountable.
At its core, the violence of forgetting operates through the denial
and distortion of historical events, particularly those that challenge
the dominant narratives of power. From the colonial atrocities and the
struggles for civil rights to the history of Palestine-Israel relations,
many of the most significant chapters of history are either glossed
over or erased altogether. This strategic omission serves the interests
of those in power, enabling them to maintain control by silencing
inconvenient truths. As the historian Timothy Snyder
reminds us, by refusing to acknowledge the violence of the past,
society makes it far easier to perpetuate injustices in the present. The
politics of organized forgetting, the censoring of history and the
attack on historical consciousness are fundamental to the rise of far
right voices in the U.S. and across the world.
With the rise of regressive memory laws, designed to repress what
authoritarian governments consider dangerous and radical interpretations
of a country’s past, historical consciousness is transformed into a
form of historical amnesia. One vivid example of a regressive memory law
was enacted by Trump during his first term. The 1776 Report,
which right-wingers defended as a “restoration of American education,”
was in fact an attempt to eliminate from the teaching of history any
reference to a legacy of colonialism, slavery and movements which
highlighted elements of American history that were unconscionable,
anti-democratic and morally repugnant. Snyder highlights the emergence
of memory laws in a number of states. He writes in a 2021 New York Times article:
As of this writing, five states (Idaho, Iowa, Tennessee, Texas and
Oklahoma) have passed laws that direct and restrict discussions of
history in classrooms. The Department of Education of a sixth (Florida)
has passed guidelines with the same effect. Another 12 state
legislatures are still considering memory laws. The particulars of these
laws vary. The Idaho law is the most Kafkaesque in its censorship: It
affirms freedom of speech and then bans divisive speech. The Iowa law
executes the same totalitarian pirouette. The Tennessee and Texas laws
go furthest in specifying what teachers may and may not say. In
Tennessee teachers must not teach that the rule of law is “a series of
power relationships and struggles among racial or other groups.”… The
Idaho law mentions Critical Race Theory; the directive from the Florida
school board bans it in classrooms. The Texas law forbids teachers from
requiring students to understand the 1619 Project. It is a perverse
goal: Teachers succeed if students do not understand something.
A major aspect of this forgetting and erasure of historical memory is the role of ignorance,
which has become not just widespread but weaponized in modern times.
Ignorance, particularly in U.S. society, has shifted from being a
passive lack of knowledge to an active refusal to engage with critical
issues. This is amplified by the spectacle-driven nature of contemporary
media and the increasing normalization of a culture of lies and the
embrace of a language of violence, which not only thrives on distraction
rather than reflection, but has become a powerful force for spreading
bigotry, racial hatred and right-wing lies. In addition, the mainstream
media’s obsession with spectacle — be it political drama, celebrity
culture or sensationalist stories — often overshadows the more
important, yet less glamorous, discussions about historical violence and
systemic injustice.
This intellectual neglect allows for a dangerous cycle to persist,
where the erasure of history enables the continuation of violence and
oppression. Systems of power benefit from this amnesia, as it allows
them to maintain the status quo without having to answer for past
wrongs. When society refuses to remember or address past injustices —
whether it’s slavery, imperialism or economic exploitation — those in
power can continue to exploit the present without fear of historical
accountability.
To strip education of its critical power is to rob democracy of its transformative potential.
The cultural impact of this organized forgetting is profound. Not
only does it create a void in public memory, but it also stunts
collective growth. Without the lessons of the past, it becomes nearly
impossible to learn from mistakes and address the root causes of social
inequalities. The failure to remember makes it harder to demand
meaningful change, while reproducing and legitimating ongoing far right
assaults on democracy.
The violence of organized forgetting is not a mere act of neglect; it
is a deliberate cultural and intellectual assault that undercuts the
foundations of any meaningful democracy. By erasing the past, society
implicitly condones the ongoing oppression of marginalized groups and
perpetuates harmful ideologies that thrive in ignorance. This erasure
silences the voices of those who have suffered — denying them the space
to speak their truth and demand justice. It is not limited to historical
injustices alone; it extends to the present, silencing those who
courageously criticize contemporary violence, such as Israel’s
U.S.-backed genocidal war on Gaza, and those brave enough to hold power
accountable.
The act of forgetting is not passive; it actively supports systems of
oppression and censorship, muffling dissent and debate, both of which
are essential for a healthy democracy.
Equally dangerous is the form of historical amnesia that has come to
dominate our contemporary political and cultural landscape. This
organized forgetting feeds into a pedagogy of manufactured ignorance
that prioritizes emotion over reason and spectacle over truth. In this
process, history is fragmented and distorted, making it nearly
impossible to construct a coherent understanding of the past. As a
result, public institutions — particularly education — are undermined,
as critical thinking and social responsibility give way to shallow,
sensationalized narratives. Higher education, once a bastion for the
development of civic literacy and the moral imperative of understanding
our role as both individuals and social agents, is now attacked by
forces seeking to cleanse public memory of past social and political
progress. Figures like Trump embody this threat, working to erase the
memory of strides made in the name of equality, justice and human
decency. This organized assault on historical memory and intellectual
rigor strikes at the heart of democracy itself. When we allow the
erasure of history and the undermining of critical thought, we risk
suffocating the ideals that democracy promises: justice, equality and
accountability.
A democracy cannot thrive in the absence of informed and engaged
agents that are capable of questioning, challenging and reimagining a
future different from the present. Without such citizens, the very
notion of democracy becomes a hollow, disembodied ideal — an illusion of
freedom without the substance of truth or responsibility. Education, in
this context, is not merely a tool for transmitting knowledge; it is
the foundation and bedrock of political consciousness. To be educated,
to be a citizen, is not a neutral or passive state — it is a vital,
active political and moral engagement with the world, grounded in
critical thinking and democratic possibility. It is a recognition that
the act of learning and the act of being a citizen are inextricable from
each other. To strip education of its critical power is to rob
democracy of its transformative potential.
Confronting the violence of forgetting requires a shift in how we
engage with history. Intellectuals, educators and activists must take up
the responsibility of reintroducing the painful truths of the past into
public discourse. This is not about dwelling in the past for its own
sake, but about understanding its relevance to the present and future.
To break the cycles of violence, society must commit to remembering, not
just for the sake of memory, but as a critical tool for progress.
Moreover, engaging with history honestly requires recognizing that
the violence of forgetting is not a one-time event but a continual
process. Systems of power don’t simply forget; they actively work to
erase, rewrite and sanitize historical narratives. This means that the
fight to remember is ongoing and requires constant vigilance. It’s not
enough to simply uncover historical truths; society must work to ensure
that these truths are not forgotten again, buried under the weight of
media spectacles, ideological repression and political theater.
Ultimately, the violence of forgetting is an obstacle to genuine
social change. Without confronting the past — acknowledging the violence
and injustices that have shaped our world — we cannot hope to build a
more just and informed future. To move forward, any viable democratic
social order must reckon with its past, break free from the bonds of
ignorance, and commit to creating a future based on knowledge, justice
and accountability.
The task of confronting and dismantling the violent structures shaped
by the power of forgetting is immense, yet the urgency has never been
more pronounced. In an era where the scope and power of new pedagogical
apparatuses such as social media and AI dominate our cultural and
intellectual landscapes, the challenge becomes even more complex. While
they hold potential for education and connection, these technologies are
controlled by a reactionary ruling class of financial elite and
billionaires, and they are increasingly wielded to perpetuate
disinformation, fragment history and manipulate public discourse. The
authoritarian algorithms that drive these platforms increasingly
prioritize sensationalism over substance, lies over truth, the
appropriation of power over social responsibility, and in doing so,
reinforce modes of civic illiteracy, while attacking those fundamental
institutions which enable critical perspectives and a culture of
questioning.
The vital need for collective action and intellectual engagement to
reclaim and restore historical truth, critical thinking and social
responsibility is urgent. The present historical moment, both
unprecedented and alarming, resonates with Antonio Gramsci’s reflection
on an earlier era marked by the rise of fascism: “The old world is
dying, and the new world struggles to be born; now is the time of
monsters.”
In the face of a deepening crisis of history, memory and agency, any
meaningful resistance must be collective, disruptive and
unapologetically unsettling — challenging entrenched orthodoxies and
dismantling the forces that perpetuate ignorance and injustice. This
struggle needs to be both radical in its essence and uncompromising in
its demands for social change, recognizing education as inseparable from
politics and the tangible challenges people face in their everyday
lives. In this collective effort lies the power to dismantle the
barriers to truth, rebuild the foundations of critical thought, and
shape a future rooted in knowledge, justice and a profound commitment to
make power accountable. Central to this vision is the capacity to learn
from history, to nurture a historical consciousness that informs our
present and to reimagine agency as an essential force in the enduring
struggle for democracy. This call for a radical imagination cannot be
confined to classrooms but must emerge as a transformative force
embedded in a united, multiracial, working-class movement. Only then can
we confront the urgent crises of our time.
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