Who Really Rules Higher Education in Texas?

Texas has long held a paradoxical position in American higher education—home to elite research universities like the University of Texas at Austin and Rice University, sprawling community colleges, aggressive for-profit colleges, and some of the nation’s most ideological legislative battles over curriculum and control. But beneath this multifaceted system lies a sharper question: Who really rules higher education in Texas?

The answer, as in William Domhoff's Who Rules America?, lies not in the democratic ideal of a neutral, public-serving education system, but in a network of wealth, political power, and corporate interests that increasingly determine who gets educated, what they learn, and who profits.

Oil, Oligarchs, and the Board of Regents

Texas higher education has always been intertwined with fossil fuel wealth. The University of Texas and Texas A&M systems benefit from the Permanent University Fund (PUF), built from vast West Texas oil and gas revenues. This financial cushion has helped build world-class infrastructure—but it has also made these institutions vulnerable to elite capture.

Regents appointed by Republican governors—often wealthy businesspeople, energy executives, and political donors—wield enormous influence. These appointments are less about educational expertise than loyalty to political and economic interests. The Board of Regents has functioned as a tool for ideological enforcement and donor-class control, rather than a steward of academic integrity.

The Shadow Power of Elite Private Schools

Elite private institutions such as Rice University, Southern Methodist University (SMU), and Baylor University play a quieter but equally significant role in shaping Texas’s academic and cultural landscape. Heavily endowed, often legacy-driven, and historically exclusionary, these schools serve as pipelines to elite law firms, corporate boards, and government agencies.

Though less exposed to direct political interference than public schools, these institutions remain tethered to the same economic power centers—big oil, finance, and real estate. Their boards are dominated by billionaires, their research often subsidized by corporate contracts, and their prestige protected by carefully curated admissions policies. The myth of meritocracy is preserved through glossy brochures and selective philanthropy, but access remains restricted by legacy, wealth, and social capital.

The University of Austin: A Privatized Culture War Experiment

The recently launched University of Austin (UATX) has emerged as the most explicit expression of Texas’s ideological drift. Founded by anti-woke entrepreneurs and libertarian-leaning academics, UATX markets itself as a haven for free speech and anti-orthodoxy—but it is, in essence, a venture capital-funded think tank with a university label.

With backing from Silicon Valley moguls and conservative influencers, UATX represents the privatized, boutique model of ideological education: elite, exclusionary, and built from the top down. It doesn’t serve the broader public so much as it serves a political narrative. It is less about offering a robust education than cultivating a new cadre of culture warriors with academic credentials.

The Rise of Christian Nationalists and Culture War Education

In parallel, Texas’s right-wing legislature has increasingly politicized public higher education. DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) offices have been defunded. Critical race theory has been demonized. Professors face mounting surveillance and restrictions on academic content.

Senate Bill 17, sponsored by State Senator Brandon Creighton, banned DEI offices across public institutions. Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick has explicitly called for the dismissal of faculty deemed too liberal. These moves are not isolated—they reflect a growing campaign to remake public education as a conservative ideological apparatus.

Privatization and the Businessification of Education

Corporate power, meanwhile, has reshaped the educational infrastructure behind the scenes. Think tanks like the Texas Public Policy Foundation (TPPF)—funded by Koch money and fossil fuel magnates—push privatization, deregulation, and the businessification of public services.

Online program managers (OPMs), ed-tech startups, and private equity-funded providers offer turnkey degrees and credentialing schemes that promise efficiency but often deliver subpar instruction, student surveillance, and high attrition. The revolving door between university administrators and the for-profit education sector ensures that public education serves private goals.

Who’s Left Out?

Working-class Texans—especially Black, Hispanic, and rural students—remain sidelined. Community colleges, where the majority of first-generation and low-income students begin, are perennially underfunded and politically neglected. Four-year public institutions are increasingly unaffordable. Debt is rising. Admissions remain stratified by zip code, standardized tests, and legacy connections.

Undocumented students and DACA recipients, once supported by early DREAM Act-style policies, now face mounting barriers. The ideal of universal access is being eroded by systemic inequality—racial, economic, and political.

Resistance and Hope

Yet Texas is not entirely lost to reaction. Faculty groups, student organizers, and investigative journalists are pushing back. Community colleges are innovating against austerity. Alternative models of education—democratic, inclusive, publicly accountable—persist, even if they are under threat.

But to truly reclaim higher education for the people, we must see through the spectacle. Texas doesn’t just have a higher ed system—it has a ruling class that uses education to reproduce its power. Until we confront that reality, the state’s students, workers, and communities will continue to bear the cost.

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In Texas, who rules higher education? Not students. Not teachers. Not communities. The answer is: oil barons, hedge funders, ideologues, and empire builders. Until that changes, higher education will remain a tool of exclusion—not liberation.

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Sources:

• Domhoff, William. Who Rules America? McGraw-Hill Education, multiple editions.

• Texas Tribune. “Gov. Abbott's Higher Ed Appointees Have Deep Industry Ties.” Texas Tribune

• University of Texas System. “The Permanent University Fund (PUF).” utsystem.edu

• Inside Higher Ed. “Texas Bans DEI in Higher Education.” (2023)

• Chronicle of Higher Education. “Dan Patrick’s Culture War Against Texas Professors.”

• Texas Public Policy Foundation. tppf.org

• The University of Austin. “Why We're Founding a New University.” uaustin.org

• Hechinger Report. “Who Gets Left Behind at Texas Community Colleges?”

• Education Trust. “Racial Disparities in Texas Higher Education Outcomes.”

• The Century Foundation. “The Problem with Online Program Managers.”

• The Intercept. “Billionaires and Anti-Woke Crusaders Launch a University in Texas.”

Tips, leaks, or story ideas? Contact the Higher Education Inquirer.

The Nation of Everything but Happiness

“Love our families? We live in a nation of broken homes. Walk in nature? We live in a nation of the obese. Read the great works? We live in a nation of the illiterate. Dream new dreams? We live in a nation of fear and desperation. We consume. We shop. We can have everything we want the next day—except happiness.”

These words, uttered by a disillusioned higher education executive, cut to the core of a national sickness. They are not just an indictment of American culture—they are a mirror held up to a society in collapse. Behind the marketing slogans and innovation-speak of American higher education lies a deeper rot: institutions that no longer produce wisdom, foster reflection, or cultivate the common good. They produce debt, anxiety, and compliant consumers.

In the 21st century, higher education became increasingly transactional and performative. Degrees were marketed like fashion, skills were bundled into micro-credentials, and students were rebranded as “customers.” Behind every glossy website lay crumbling adjunct faculty conditions, student mental health crises, and financial aid schemes rigged to entrap rather than empower.

This system did not emerge in a vacuum. It is the natural outgrowth of an economy where the line between marketing and meaning has disappeared, and where truth is whatever keeps the donor pipeline flowing. In this world, critical thinking is a threat, reading the great works is a waste of time, and loving one’s family is optional so long as the tuition gets paid.

The American dream, once tied to education, now runs through warehouses and fulfillment centers. You can click your way to convenience, but not to connection. Universities partner with Amazon, Google, and Blackstone, hoping some of that algorithmic magic will rub off. But what gets lost in the process is incalculable: imagination, community, citizenship.

Broken homes? A generation of young adults crushed by debt can’t afford to start families.

Obesity? PE is gone, recess is shrinking, nature is privatized, and students sit in Zoom classes fed by vending machines.

Illiteracy? College students now arrive without ever reading a full book—and many leave with diplomas having never done so.

Fear and desperation? Campus shootings, climate anxiety, unpaid internships, and the looming threat of being replaced by AI all feed into a student body running on caffeine, anxiety meds, and borrowed hope.

What do we tell young people today? That if they take out $100,000 in loans, hustle harder, and say the right things on LinkedIn, they might land a gig job in the "knowledge economy"? Or do we tell them the truth: that higher education has been captured—by corporate interests, by cowardice, and by a political system that rewards short-term metrics over long-term meaning?

We live in a country where you can overnight a yoga mat and a mindfulness app, but you can’t overnight purpose. The institutions that once claimed to cultivate the mind and soul have outsourced their very missions. Presidents are now brand managers. Professors are content providers. Students are monetizable data streams.

The businessman’s quote, raw and despairing, reminds us that the crisis is spiritual as much as it is structural. Higher education cannot fix everything, but it could be something more than it is now. A space to reflect. A place to reconnect. A tool for healing—not just hustling.

But not without a reckoning.

Because in a nation where we can have everything but happiness, the question remains: what is higher education for? And if it can’t help answer that, what’s left of it worth saving?

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Sources:

• Anonymous quote from higher education executive, 2025

• National Center for Education Statistics: Literacy and Outcomes

• American College Health Association: Student Mental Health Trends

• U.S. Department of Education: Student Debt Statistics

• Higher Education Inquirer investigations on academic labor, edtech partnerships, and institutional mission drift

A Broken Promise: Why the GI Bill Demands Major Reform

The GI Bill was meant to be a pathway to economic opportunity for those who served. But behind the patriotic language and glossy marketing lies a deeply flawed system—one that routinely fails to deliver on its promise. The Higher Education Inquirer’s own investigations, including Blue Falcons: Politicians, Government Agencies, and Nonprofits Serve Themselves, Not Those Who Have Served, have exposed how a powerful network of politicians, government agencies, and nonprofit actors have prioritized institutional profit over veterans' well-being. These actors cloak themselves in red, white, and blue, while steering billions of taxpayer dollars into the hands of subprime and for-profit colleges that consistently produce poor educational and economic outcomes.

In Veterans Left Behind: How Oversight Failures Harm Veterans in Higher Education, Michael Hainline recounts his personal experience of being misled by a federally approved training program in commercial trucking. The program used outdated, dangerous equipment. He was injured, left without the credentials he was promised, and unable to work in the field. Despite numerous formal complaints, the State Approving Agency and Department of Veterans Affairs failed to act. His story is not unique. Thousands of veterans have lost valuable time, their health, and their benefits to programs that were supposed to help them reintegrate into civilian life.

These anecdotes are supported by hard data. A 2021 study from the National Bureau of Economic Research, covered by Forbes, found that veterans who used the Post‑9/11 GI Bill earned $900 less per year, nine years after service, than peers who did not use the benefit. While the GI Bill slightly increased college enrollment and bachelor’s degree attainment, the economic return was negative for most users. The worst outcomes were concentrated among those who attended for-profit colleges, as well as those who had lower Armed Forces Qualification Test (AFQT) scores or served in lower-skilled military roles. Instead of launching veterans into thriving careers, the GI Bill has too often led them into low-value programs that waste time, drain benefits, and reduce long-term earnings.

The scale of the issue is enormous. GI Bill expenditures now exceed $13 billion annually—more than all state-funded scholarships and Pell Grants combined. Yet for each marginal bachelor’s degree produced, the GI Bill program spends between $486,000 and $590,000. For-profit colleges, despite their poor outcomes and frequent legal troubles, continue to absorb a disproportionate share of these funds. Their business model depends heavily on recruiting veterans, aided by a legal loophole that allows GI Bill funds to be excluded from the federal 90–10 funding cap. That exemption incentivizes aggressive marketing campaigns targeting veterans and military families, while institutions offer minimal support and poor instruction in return.

Veterans deserve better, and the American public deserves transparency and accountability for how billions of dollars are spent. Reform begins with policy rooted in results. That means requiring schools to meet minimum thresholds for graduation rates, job placement, and post-graduation earnings before receiving GI Bill funds. The 90–10 loophole must be closed, and federal agencies must reinstate the gainful employment rules that were gutted under previous administrations. Oversight bodies like the VA’s Office of Inspector General and State Approving Agencies need resources and independence to investigate, enforce, and shut down bad actors. Just as importantly, veterans need access to transparent, comprehensible data on outcomes before they enroll—data about job placement rates, average earnings, completion rates, and institutional accreditation.

The obsession with four-year degrees also needs to be reexamined. Many veterans would be better served by career-aligned certificates, apprenticeships, and credentialing programs that build directly on their military experience. These programs often provide faster, cheaper, and more secure pathways into the labor market, especially in fields like skilled trades, technology, and logistics.

Problem	Proposed Reform
Predatory institutions and marketing practices drain GI Bill funds and deliver poor outcomes	Enforce outcomes-based funding, limiting GI support to programs with strong results
Legal loopholes allow evasion of accountability	Close the 90–10 exemption and restore gainful employment rules
Oversight is fragmented and ineffective	Fund and empower federal and state oversight agencies to act decisively
Veterans lack guidance in a confusing marketplace	Mandate counseling and public reporting of school-level outcome data
Degree inflation and misalignment with the job market	Expand alternative credentialing pathways tied to real workforce demand

The GI Bill is more than a financial benefit—it is a symbol of the nation’s promise to those who have served. When that promise is broken, it not only damages individual veterans, but undermines trust in the institutions meant to serve the public good. Reforming the GI Bill is not just a budgetary concern—it is a moral imperative.

The Higher Education Inquirer calls for immediate, systemic reform. Veterans have earned more than shallow rhetoric and exploitation. They deserve an education system that works. That system must be transparent, accountable, and rooted in reality—not nostalgia or false promises. It must reward service with genuine opportunity, not debt and disappointment. Until then, we will continue to investigate and expose the truth—and stand with veterans who are being left behind.

The Council for National Policy and the Quiet War on Higher Education

The Council for National Policy (CNP), a secretive coalition of right-wing activists, donors, and religious leaders, has long operated behind closed doors to reshape American politics. Less visible—but no less consequential—is the CNP’s influence on U.S. higher education. Rather than building a parallel university system, the Council and its affiliates have sought to infiltrate, defund, and redirect existing institutions—while funding their own ideological outposts to train future political operatives and culture warriors.

From its founding in 1981, the CNP has cultivated a network of allies committed to a vision of America rooted in Christian nationalism, economic libertarianism, and anti-communism. Higher education, particularly public and research universities, has been a frequent target of its disdain. These institutions are framed as dens of secularism, moral relativism, and Marxist indoctrination. The strategy has been clear: weaken the credibility and funding of traditional universities while supporting alternative pipelines that reinforce conservative ideology.

Organizations like Turning Point USA, Young America’s Foundation, and the Intercollegiate Studies Institute have received support from CNP-connected donors and board members. These groups are active on campuses across the country, often attacking faculty and student activists who advocate for racial justice, labor rights, climate action, or LGBTQ+ inclusion. Turning Point’s “Professor Watchlist” is emblematic of this effort, identifying and shaming educators deemed “radical” or “anti-American.” Behind the student-centered branding are well-financed political interests looking to re-engineer campus discourse and manufacture consent for a reactionary worldview.

While public institutions struggle with budget cuts and political interference, private colleges like Hillsdale College and Liberty University flourish with donor support from CNP-affiliated foundations. These schools market themselves as bastions of classical learning and Christian values, but they also function as training grounds for conservative media, law, and politics. Hillsdale in particular, with its rejection of federal funding and its alignment with Trump-era governance, has produced graduates who have moved seamlessly into roles in think tanks, policy shops, and Republican administrations.

The CNP’s influence extends beyond campuses into legislative agendas. Through connected organizations such as the Heritage Foundation and the American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC), the network has promoted laws that aim to ban the teaching of critical race theory, eliminate diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) offices, and impose state-mandated curriculum standards favoring patriotism over critical inquiry. Many of these efforts are packaged as promoting intellectual diversity, but in practice they represent a concerted attack on academic freedom.

Higher education is not simply collateral damage in the culture war. It is a primary battlefield. The push to defund public universities, restrict tenure, and surveil classroom speech is not accidental—it is part of a long-term project to discredit institutions that might challenge the political status quo. The goal is not just to influence what is taught, but to control who gets to teach and who gets to learn.

In the CNP’s vision, universities are not places for open debate or exploration, but potential threats to moral order and market orthodoxy. Knowledge becomes dangerous when it questions power. And so the Council works quietly, diligently, to ensure that the next generation of Americans is shaped not by democratic ideals but by theological certainty, corporate loyalty, and partisan allegiance.

While the names and tactics may evolve, the endgame remains the same: a higher education landscape where critical thinking is subordinated to dogma, and where the pursuit of truth yields to the demands of political conformity. Whether the broader public recognizes this campaign in time remains to be seen.

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Sources
Anne Nelson, Shadow Network: Media, Money, and the Secret Hub of the Radical Right
Southern Poverty Law Center: “Council for National Policy” profile
Excerpts from leaked CNP membership directories and agendas (SourceWatch, The Guardian, Washington Post)
Isaac Arnsdorf, “Inside the CNP’s Shadowy Strategy Meetings” (Politico)
Hillsdale College Curriculum and Federal Funding Statements
Turning Point USA Professor Watchlist and donor records
Public records from ALEC, Heritage Foundation, and affiliated legislation

Empire in Decline: What the Fall of Rome Tells Us About the American Oligarchy

There are tax farmers squeezing a province dry. There are soldiers fighting for the emperor's baton. And then there are a few who dread the empire's fall and dream of the old republic.

This is not just the story of ancient Rome. It's also an apt metaphor for the state of contemporary America—a late-stage empire defined by extreme inequality, militarization, and a governing class that clings to power while the social fabric unravels.

In Rome, the Senate once stood as the heart of the Republic, composed of elite Patrician families who wielded enormous religious, political, and economic influence. But as historian and economist Michael Hudson writes in The Collapse of Antiquity, these elites became entrenched creditors and landlords, a rentier class unwilling to compromise or adapt. They refused debt cancellation, land redistribution, or any reforms that might curb their power—transforming what was once a dynamic, if imperfect, republic into a brittle and parasitic empire.

This refusal to evolve created an unsustainable system. Wealth concentrated in fewer hands. Small farmers and urban workers were crushed under debts. The rural economy collapsed as latifundia (large estates) displaced independent farmers. Military commanders, frustrated with elite gridlock, seized power for themselves. And the Senate, once a genuine force of governance, became a ceremonial shell. What followed was a long descent: civil wars, authoritarianism, economic stagnation, and eventually the re-feudalization of the West.

Hudson’s view is clear: the Roman Senate and elite, by prioritizing their creditor rights over the common good, destroyed the economic base that sustained the Empire. In their greed and rigidity, they ensured the fall they feared.

Now consider the United States. Like Rome, America has become dominated by a professional ruling class: oligarchs, financiers, tenured politicians, credentialed technocrats, and think-tank warriors. Institutions of higher education, once engines of democratic possibility, have increasingly become training grounds for this elite. And like the Roman Senate, they are largely unaccountable—privatizing gains, socializing losses, and suppressing reform.

Just as Roman tax farmers drained the provinces, today’s student loan servicers, for-profit colleges, and hedge fund–backed housing firms squeeze the public to fund private empires. Just as Roman generals became emperors, today’s billionaires and media moguls wield near-sovereign power over public discourse, elections, and foreign policy. And just as the Roman elite clung to legal fictions while society crumbled, our ruling class insists the republic is healthy—even as inequality soars, infrastructure decays, and democratic norms erode.

There are still those who long for a return to the "old republic"—to a time when education was a public good, when civic virtue mattered, and when government sought the common welfare. But those voices are increasingly drowned out in a landscape of imperial spectacle, culture wars, and managed decline.

Hudson reminds us that ancient societies that survived economic collapse—like those in Mesopotamia—did so by recognizing the need for periodic resets. They canceled debts. They redistributed land. They prioritized stability over elite entrenchment. Rome—and perhaps America—refused to learn those lessons.

In this moment of crisis, the choice is stark: will we continue down the path of empire, ruled by debt and extraction? Or will we recover some measure of republic, with institutions that serve people, not just capital?

One thing is certain: empires fall. But their people don’t have to fall with them—if they choose to resist.

Sources:

• Michael Hudson, The Collapse of Antiquity: Greece and Rome as Civilization's Oligarchic Turning Point, 2023

• Mary Beard, SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome, 2015

• Edward Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 1776–1789

• Kyle Harper, The Fate of Rome: Climate, Disease, and the End of an Empire, 2017

• Higher Education Inquirer, ongoing coverage on student debt and elite university structures

• U.S. Department of Education, data on student debt and institutional concentration of resources

The Matrix of God: How Fourth Generation Warfare Shapes the Christian Right’s Political Strategy — and What It Means for Higher Education

Fourth Generation Warfare (4GW) is a concept that redefines conflict in the modern era. Unlike the conventional wars of the past—mass manpower, mass firepower, and non-linear maneuvering—4GW transcends the physical battlefield and penetrates mental and moral realms. Coined by military theorist William S. Lind in 1989, it reveals how warfare today is a struggle over ideas, legitimacy, and social cohesion, rather than just territory or armies.

From Bullets to Ideas: The Evolution of Warfare

Where the Revolutionary War and the World Wars were fought with armies and weapons, 4GW attacks the very foundations of society: the social trust, the shared moral narratives, and the legitimacy of institutions themselves. This warfare aims to induce populations to shift loyalty away from established governments toward insurgent forces by undermining cohesion through psychological, informational, and cultural tactics.

The Christian Right’s Domestic Insurgency

While 4GW initially described conflicts between governments and insurgents abroad, it has been adopted domestically by the Christian Right as a framework for political warfare in the United States. Leading strategists such as Paul Weyrich and William S. Lind have mobilized 4GW to wage a campaign aimed at delegitimizing the liberal-secular democratic order and replacing it with a Christian nationalist vision.

Weyrich famously framed this battle as a “war of ideology” and “a war about our way of life” that requires the same intensity as a shooting war. Under their direction, the Free Congress Foundation published a blueprint calling for the destruction—not reform—of secular liberal institutions through continuous propaganda and guerrilla tactics aimed at eroding the legitimacy of “the Left” and the constitutional protections it upholds.

The Epistemological Battlefield and Christian Reconstructionism

The intellectual roots of this insurgency lie with Christian Reconstructionism, founded by Rousas John Rushdoony, which calls for rebuilding society on a biblical epistemology, supplanting secular knowledge systems. This worldview fuels the epistemological warfare central to 4GW: a battle to reconstruct what is accepted as truth, knowledge, and legitimacy.

The Quiet War’s Implications for Higher Education and Society

As HEI warned in August 2022, the worst-case scenario for higher education is its entanglement on both sides of what may become a Second US Civil War—between Christian Fundamentalists and neoliberals—with working families suffering the greatest consequences.

Higher education stands at a crossroads amid this cultural and political warfare. As an institution responsible for knowledge production, critical thinking, and social cohesion, colleges risk being battlegrounds where this Fourth Generation Warfare plays out—through contested curricula, campus culture wars, and battles over legitimacy and authority.

The Christian Right’s epistemological warfare challenges the very foundations of academic freedom, transparency, and democratic values that higher education strives to uphold. The erosion of social trust and the rise of disinformation campaigns threaten to fracture campuses and society alike.

Conclusion: Fighting for the Soul of Democracy and Education

Understanding Fourth Generation Warfare and its domestic deployment by the Christian Right is essential for educators, journalists, and policymakers. This “Matrix of God” is not just a theoretical military concept—it is an ongoing ideological insurgency aimed at reshaping American political culture and knowledge itself.

Higher education must resist becoming a pawn in this war. Instead, it can serve as a bastion of critical inquiry, transparency, and accountability—helping society confront major challenges like climate change, inequality, and authoritarianism.

The stakes are high: either colleges embrace their role in strengthening democracy and social trust, or they become caught in a destructive conflict that imperils working families and the country’s future.

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Sources:

• Lind, William S. Fourth Generation Warfare Handbook (1989)

• Heubeck, Eric. The Integration of Theory and Practice: A Program for the New Traditionalist Movement (2001)

• Weyrich, Paul. Various speeches and writings, 1980s-2000s

• Rushdoony, Rousas John. Christian Reconstructionism

• Battle without Bullets: The Christian Right and Fourth Generation Warfare, Academia.edu

• Higher Education Inquirer, Interview with Dahn Shaulis, August 2022: https://collegeviability.com/blog/f/interview-with-dahn-shaulis---higher-education-inquirer

Liberty University: A Billion-Dollar Edu-Religious Powerhouse Under the Lens

Liberty University, a self-described bastion of Christian values and conservative education, is today one of the richest and most politically entangled institutions of higher learning in the United States. With nearly $1.6 billion in annual revenue and almost $4.2 billion in assets, the university has grown from a modest Bible college into a vast nonprofit empire. But behind its polished image lies a history marked by ideological extremism, financial opacity, political manipulation, and a disturbing legacy of abuse and betrayal.

Liberty University's tax return is here. 

The institution’s roots reach back to televangelist Jerry Falwell Sr., who founded Liberty University in 1971 as Lynchburg Baptist College, with a vision of creating a “West Point of the Christian Right.” Falwell’s project was never merely educational—it was explicitly political. He intended Liberty to serve as a training ground for young evangelicals to take control of the culture and the government.

Falwell’s ambitions were not only spiritual; they were geopolitical. During the 1980s, Falwell Sr. emerged as a vocal supporter of Ronald Reagan’s Cold War foreign policy, especially in Central America. He used his media platform and church networks to defend U.S. military and CIA-backed interventions in Nicaragua and El Salvador, where right-wing authoritarian regimes and paramilitary groups were engaged in brutal counterinsurgency operations. Falwell denounced leftist movements like the Sandinistas as Marxist threats to Christianity and Western civilization. At the height of Reagan's Contra war in Nicaragua, Falwell called on American Christians to “stand with freedom fighters” and backed White House efforts to funnel money and arms to the Contras—despite their involvement in civilian massacres, drug trafficking, and terror campaigns. In this Cold War theater, Liberty University wasn’t just a college; it was a pulpit for Reagan-era militarism cloaked in religious moralism.

Just as controversial was Falwell Sr.’s willingness to partner with the Unification Church of Rev. Sun Myung Moon—a religious sect many evangelicals labeled a cult. Despite deep theological differences, Falwell accepted at least $2.5 million in the 1980s from Moon-affiliated organizations to help keep Liberty University solvent. The money reportedly helped the school avoid bankruptcy during a critical period of expansion. In return, Falwell softened his criticism of Moon and collaborated on conservative media projects such as The Washington Times. The alliance revealed a core truth about Liberty’s founding ethos: that power, not purity, was its guiding principle.

The compromises didn’t end with Falwell Sr. His son, Jerry Falwell Jr., took the university’s politicization to new heights. In 2016, he broke ranks with traditional evangelicals to endorse Donald Trump—then a thrice-married reality television mogul known more for casino deals than church attendance. Falwell Jr.'s early support helped legitimize Trump among conservative Christians. In exchange, Liberty received access to the Trump administration, and Falwell was appointed to a federal education task force. Trump gave a commencement speech at Liberty in 2017 and repeatedly praised the school’s commitment to “America First” values.

During Falwell Jr.’s tenure, the university became deeply enmeshed in right-wing politics. Leaked emails revealed how administrators suppressed dissent on campus, promoted partisan messaging, and used institutional resources for political purposes. Meanwhile, Falwell and his allies engaged in shady real estate deals and personal enrichment schemes. His fall from grace in 2020, following revelations of sexual misconduct, alcohol abuse, and financial irregularities, did little to slow the machine. Liberty continues to function much as it did before—flush with cash, shielded by nonprofit status, and politically aligned with the far right.

Equally disturbing is the university’s systemic mishandling of sexual violence. In 2021 and 2022, ProPublica and other outlets revealed a pattern of institutional cover-up. At least 22 women filed a federal lawsuit accusing Liberty of punishing survivors instead of abusers. Under the school’s strict moral code—“The Liberty Way”—students who reported sexual assault were often blamed for violating university policies on sex, alcohol, or being alone with members of the opposite sex. Some were threatened with expulsion. These cases were not aberrations—they revealed a culture of control and fear designed to protect the university’s brand at all costs.

In the most recent financial filings from 2023, Liberty reported nearly $343 million in grants paid, over $1 million in lobbying expenses, and a $5 million NASCAR sponsorship. Football coach Hugh Freeze received nearly $3.8 million in total compensation, while basketball coach Ritchie McKay earned over $1.4 million. These figures are more typical of a major corporate entity than a religious nonprofit. And yet Liberty continues to benefit from tax exemptions, federal grants, and student loan funds—money that flows into a university that openly mixes religion, nationalism, and political propaganda.

Liberty’s massive online education system has helped it reach students across the U.S. and beyond, bringing in billions in federal aid dollars. It is arguably the largest conduit of taxpayer-funded Christian education in the country. With that reach comes extraordinary power—and a growing obligation for public scrutiny.

Liberty University was built on contradictions. It preaches righteousness while taking money from cult leaders. It promotes purity while covering up abuse. It denounces government overreach while feeding off public funds. It claims to be apolitical while functioning as a partisan training ground.

At the Higher Education Inquirer, we see Liberty not as an outlier, but as a warning—a blueprint for how higher education can be weaponized in the service of power, dogma, and wealth. It is a university in name, but in practice, it is a deeply politicized enterprise built on Cold War propaganda, moral compromise, and an unholy alliance between religion, capitalism, and state violence.

The question remains: how many more Liberties are out there, hiding behind tax exemptions, and operating with near-total impunity?

Publishers Refuse to Print Ryan Walters’ Election & Religion‑Infused Curriculum

Oklahoma’s State Superintendent of Public Instruction, Ryan Walters, has drawn national scrutiny for issuing new social studies standards that embed Trump-aligned conspiracy theories and Christian nationalist narratives into K–12 curricula.

The standards, adopted in December 2024, direct teachers to question the legitimacy of the 2020 presidential election using thoroughly debunked claims: late-night ballot drops, “illegal” mail-in votes, and suspiciously high turnout. Walters also inserted language suggesting COVID-19 was likely engineered in a Chinese laboratory and mandated that students learn the United States was founded explicitly as a Christian nation rooted in “Judeo-Christian principles.”

But when the Oklahoma Department of Education tried to find publishers willing to produce textbooks that match the new standards, they were met with silence—or polite refusals.

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Textbook Publishers Say No

According to reporting by LGBTQ Nation, major educational publishers—including Houghton Mifflin Harcourt—declined to produce materials conforming to the new standards. Two smaller publishers also reportedly turned down the request, citing concerns about the accuracy, ideological slant, and commercial viability of such textbooks.

As one publisher put it, Oklahoma’s K–12 market is too small to justify rewriting and potentially damaging the integrity of their materials for national distribution. Another privately said they would not "print lies.”

This puts Oklahoma teachers in a bind: either use outdated materials, create their own lesson plans that conform to politicized standards, or face potential disciplinary action from Walters’ office.

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The Bigger Agenda

The state’s new standards were developed behind closed doors by a group of far-right activists, including PragerU founder Dennis Prager, Project 2025 architect Kevin Roberts, and pseudo-historian David Barton. Their vision aligns with broader Christian nationalist efforts to reshape public education—and ultimately public life—by teaching a distorted version of U.S. history and civics.

In fact, the standards are so extreme that Walters’ own advisory group suggested adopting PragerU Kids videos and other ideologically driven content in classrooms, effectively privatizing parts of the curriculum with unaccredited, partisan material.

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What It Means for Higher Education

These developments in Oklahoma are not isolated—they are part of a national movement to reshape public education from kindergarten through college. What’s happening now in K–12 has ripple effects in higher education, including:

• Erosion of Academic Standards: Students taught disinformation in high school may enter college ill-prepared for evidence-based inquiry.

• Politicization of Education: Public education is increasingly divided along ideological lines, with colleges caught in the crossfire.

• Chilling Effect on Educators: K–12 and higher ed instructors alike are facing new political pressures, including book bans, curriculum censorship, and loyalty tests to partisan ideas.

• Curriculum Segregation: As some states embrace fact-based education while others embrace political indoctrination, a two-tier education system is emerging—deepening inequality and distrust.

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Will Oklahoma be OK? 

Walters’ campaign to institutionalize misinformation in Oklahoma classrooms has hit a critical obstacle: publishers won’t print it. This quiet but firm resistance from the educational publishing industry stands in contrast to the state’s increasingly aggressive posture toward teachers, schools, and dissenters.

It also raises a critical question: if public institutions are compelled to teach lies, who will tell the truth?

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Sources

• Owen, Greg. “Textbook Publishers Ignore Far-Right Education Chief’s Demands to Print Trumpian Lies.” LGBTQ Nation, July 25, 2025. https://www.lgbtqnation.com/2025/07/textbook-publishers-ignore-far-right-education-chiefs-demands-to-print-trumpian-lies/

• Walker, Chris. “New Oklahoma School Curriculum Requires Students to Learn the ‘Big Lie’.” Truthout, March 18, 2025. https://truthout.org/articles/new-oklahoma-school-curriculum-requires-students-to-learn-the-big-lie/

• Rivas, Yunior. “Oklahoma Set to Teach Trump’s Election Lies in Public Schools as Parents and Teachers Push Back.” Democracy Docket, June 28, 2025. https://www.democracydocket.com/analysis/oklahoma-set-to-teach-trumps-election-lies-in-public-schools-as-parents-and-teachers-push-back/

 

This story was originally published by Chalkbeat. Sign up for their newsletters at ckbe.at/newsletters

Fighting for my students’ right to read, I lost my teacher’s license. I’d risk it all again.

Summer Boismier, Chalkbeat

Jul 24, 2025 at 2:22pm EDT

“The Hate U Give.” “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.” “Challenger Deep.” “The Poet X.” These are just some of the titles my students researched and recommended as part of a 2018 project-based learning unit I had assigned. The goal: to diversify our high school’s required reading lists. “Why don’t we have these books?” the superintendent of the district where I was teaching English at the time asked me.

The following school year, these books were integrated into the English I curriculum as choice reads for our literature circles. I find it hard to fathom such a thing happening today.

Four years later, I was teaching in another school district, this one in Norman, Oklahoma. Just days before we were set to return for the 2022-23 academic year, teachers were advised during a faculty meeting to restrict or remove student access to classroom libraries.

Such a sprint toward soft censorship was a response to the Oklahoma State Board of Education’s enforcement of House Bill 1775 of 2021, which restricts conversations around race and sex in academic spaces. Concerned about a potential accreditation downgrade for violating this law, a school site administrator suggested I cover the 500-plus books in my classroom library with butcher paper, which I did. But that was far from the end of the story.

Without the classroom library that I had spent my career curating, some of my students walked into class that first day to find stories that reflected their lives had been reclassified as contraband. So I wrote on the butcher paper covering my shelves, “Books the state doesn’t want you to read.” A protest in pixels, I also added a QR code for students to scan for information about Books Unbanned, a nationwide initiative from Brooklyn Public Library, offering students ages 13-21 free eCard access to the library’s more than 500,000 digital items.

I’ve never taught a math class, but I knew that 500,000 books > 500 books. I also knew that this act of resistance could cost me my job or even my teacher’s license. But if state leadership was going to censor classrooms, I was going to make sure my students still had ample opportunities to read, think, and decide for themselves.

Oklahoma’s HB 1775, which is facing a challenge in federal court, and similar laws from Texas to Florida to Iowa, followed the first Trump administration’s 2020 Executive Order on Combating Race and Sex Stereotyping. These state mandates are often referred to as “divisive concepts” laws. But really, they are censorship by another name. And they don’t just silence ideas; they silence people. They resist the inclusion of historically marginalized voices, such as BIPOC and LGBTQ+ perspectives, because those voices challenge the comfort of the dominant narrative.

“Most characters/authors are straight white guys, and that kind of reflects how we treat literature,” one of my students reflected back in 2018, as they were working on the reading list project.

That student said they wanted to see more diversity in the assigned reading. Unfortunately, the progress made to integrate inclusive, relevant texts into curriculums and libraries is now at risk.

Friday, August 19, 2022, was my first day of year nine as a certified English teacher in Oklahoma public schools and my second year in the Norman district. By day’s end, however, I was placed on leave and told to report to district offices first thing Monday morning. Although the district expressed hope I would return to the classroom, I chose instead to resign so that I could continue to speak out for intellectual freedom and against HB 1775. Soon, my story was making headlines.

And while in 2023 an assistant state attorney general recommended against revoking my teaching license, the Oklahoma State Board of Education still took it away the next year. That has put my livelihood and my life on hold for the foreseeable future and taken an irrevocable toll on my mental health.

Recently, at my eldest nibling’s kindergarten graduation, I was ambushed somewhere around the second chorus of Imagine Dragons’ “Believer” by a panic attack. To an outside observer, I was there in that small-town auditorium, listening to a stage full of big little voices as they belted out “Pain! You made me a believer, believer.”

However, at that moment, I could not have been further from row G, seat 1.

Suddenly and without consent, I was lost amid the voices in my head that for almost three years have relentlessly labeled me a loser, letdown, failure, and fraud — my entire being seized by a feeling akin to what I can only describe as white-knuckling an electric fence.

Until recently, I associated post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, with literal soldiers scarred by the hell of war. Yet I’ve spent most of the past decade not on the battlefield, but in the classroom. I’ve learned, however, that the majority of PTSD diagnoses do not in fact stem from past military service. Apparently, standing up for students’ right to read can leave its own scars.

Despite the deep personal and professional costs, it’s impossible to convey just how little remorse I have. None at all, really. Because not every battle worth fighting is winnable. Because sometimes “Paycheck or principle?” isn’t a rhetorical question.

We are living through a near-constant deluge of crises that are designed to make meaningful teaching and learning unsustainable and undesirable — from efforts to dismantle the Department of Education to the wholesale retraction of diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives, from book bans in PK-12 schools to ideological litmus tests imposed on American universities.

In this era of renewed threats to civil liberties coming out of the White House, the statehouse, and the courthouse, I’d challenge all teachers in the schoolhouse to ask themselves: What’s your QR code?

To teach is to take a stand. And just like teaching, taking a stand can look a lot of different ways, including:

• Recommending a story to a student that speaks to them as they are.
• Incorporating diverse voices and perspectives intentionally in lesson plans.
• Affirming students’ identities through intentional language and identity-sustaining classroom culture.
• Facilitating workshops for teachers on responding to educational gag orders and preserving access to diverse texts.
• Bringing together educators, librarians, and community members for public events defending inclusive curriculums.
• Documenting and reporting instances of censorship and/or policy overreach.

Sometimes, it can even look like resting, a radical act of resilience for the fight ahead.

As the youth scholar and artist Jasmine Lewis shared with me in a recent email exchange, “[The world today] reminds me how important it is that we continue reading, writing, and harnessing care in any/every space that we are able to.”

Against the torrent of extreme partisan interference in our public schools, it is your persistence, teachers, that forms the foundation for meaningful resistance to censorship efforts. Despite everything you’re up against, we need you for what comes next: the 2025-26 school year. There’s a lot riding on the integrity of those spines beyond books.

Summer Boismier (she/her) is an English language arts educator and doctoral student at the University of Oklahoma whose work focuses on free expression issues, culturally sustaining pedagogies, and educational equity in public schools. A nationally recognized youth free expression advocate, she is also a recipient of the Oklahoma State Department of Education’s 2019 Rising Star Award and Piedmont Public Schools’ 2018-2019 District Teacher of the Year honor. In 2024, the Oklahoma State Board of Education unanimously revoked her teaching certificate for telling her students about a public library card.

Chalkbeat is a nonprofit news site covering educational change in public schools.

The Silence of the Strategists: How Higher Ed Elites Withhold the Truth While Others Step Up

In an era when transparency should be the bedrock of ethical journalism and consulting, author and higher education commentator Jeff Selingo—alongside consultancy powerhouse EY Parthenon—are knowingly keeping critical information from the public. Despite having access to privileged data that identifies several hundred U.S. colleges and universities in serious financial trouble, they have refused to disclose the names of these institutions. This silence is not just unhelpful—it is immoral.

For years, EY Parthenon has conducted private studies and analyses for higher ed clients, tracking key indicators like declining enrollment, shrinking endowments, deteriorating debt ratios, and unsustainable tuition discounting. Jeff Selingo, through his writing and speaking engagements, has amplified some of these findings, warning of a looming wave of closures and consolidations. But while they hint at a coming crisis, they deliberately avoid naming names.

This concealment does a disservice to students, families, faculty, and communities. Stakeholders deserve to make informed decisions, especially when their financial futures and professional lives are on the line. Prospective students and their parents may unwittingly enroll in institutions that are likely to shutter or slash services. Faculty and staff remain in the dark about the viability of their jobs. And entire towns—especially those reliant on small, tuition-driven colleges—are left exposed to economic collapse.

Their rationale is predictable: naming struggling colleges could cause panic, accelerate closures, or lead to lawsuits. But this argument places institutional reputation over human consequences. It protects endowments and administrators while sacrificing those least able to weather the fallout—first-generation students, underpaid adjuncts, and vulnerable staff.

Jeff Selingo brands himself as a guide for navigating the college admissions maze, and EY Parthenon markets itself as a strategic advisor. But what good is strategy or guidance without accountability? What ethical framework justifies withholding the truth from the very people their work claims to serve?

This isn’t merely about transparency—it’s about power. When Selingo and EY Parthenon hoard vital information, they are reinforcing a system in which the elite manage decline behind closed doors, while the public bears the brunt of their silence.

Fortunately, there are others working in good faith to inform the public. Gary Stocker’s College Viability App offers accessible financial data and tools to evaluate the long-term sustainability of U.S. colleges, helping families, students, and educators make smarter decisions. Similarly, Mark Salisbury’s TuitionFit project democratizes college pricing information, giving prospective students real access to the true cost of college—information institutions often obscure. These efforts stand in sharp contrast to the guarded secrecy of the higher ed elite, and they deserve recognition and support.

It’s time for the higher ed establishment—including those profiting from its slow-motion collapse—to face the moral consequences of their choices. Either name the schools or admit that your silence is complicity.

The Higher Education Inquirer calls on Jeff Selingo, EY Parthenon, and others with access to this critical data to do what is right: tell the truth, in full. Anything less is a betrayal of the public trust.

Dreams I'll Never See: Higher Ed’s Broken Promises and the American Student

“I’m hung up on dreams I’ll never see.”

That Southern rock refrain from Molly Hatchet captures the bitter reality faced by millions of Americans who invested in higher education only to be left with debt, shattered hopes, and uncertain futures.

Educator Gary Roth’s The Educated Underclass points to a growing class of credentialed individuals caught in precarious economic and social positions—overqualified yet underpaid, burdened by debt without the stability education promised. Yet it is the borrowers’ own stories that reveal the human toll behind the numbers.

Over the past month, The Higher Education Inquirer has chronicled the experiences of borrowers misled by predatory institutions—mainly for-profit colleges—through its Borrower Defense Story Series. These narratives shed light on the deeply personal consequences of institutional deception and a federal loan forgiveness process that is often slow, bureaucratic, and uneven.

In one story, a single mother describes her experience at Chamberlain University School of Nursing. She followed every instruction, met every deadline, and committed herself fully to a career in health care. Yet she never earned her degree. Despite this, she remains burdened with thousands of dollars in student loan debt. Her borrower defense application has yet to yield relief.

Another borrower shares her journey with Kaplan University Online, where promises of flexible learning and job placement proved empty. After transferring and completing her degree elsewhere, she still faces uncertainty as her borrower defense claim drags on, highlighting the emotional toll of navigating a broken loan forgiveness system.

A third story critiques the broader system of higher education finance, describing how students—especially those without family wealth or institutional support—become trapped in debt relationships that limit their autonomy and economic mobility. Rather than offering a pathway to security, college becomes a mechanism of financial entrapment.

Most recently, a former fashion student recounts how private loans—unlike federal loans—offered no path for borrower defense relief after she attended a program marketed with glowing career outcomes that never materialized. The result was devastating financial consequences with little recourse.

These individual stories are not exceptions. As of April 30, 2024, over 974,000 borrowers had received more than $17 billion in loan discharges under borrower defense rules, mostly through group claims tied to scandals involving Corinthian Colleges, ITT Tech, and DeVry. Yet hundreds of thousands still await decisions, and many are excluded entirely due to private loans, school exclusions, or bureaucratic delays.

The borrower defense rule was meant to shield students from fraud, but political interference, legal challenges, and an overwhelmed bureaucracy have marred its implementation. Behind the statistics are people deceived, indebted, and left behind.

Meanwhile, elite institutions hoard resources, adjunct faculty struggle to survive, and the promise of higher education rings hollow for many.

“I’m hung up on dreams I’ll never see.” This lyric is not just poetry but the lived reality for millions. Unless there is radical change—debt cancellation, labor protections, honest admissions, and accountability—the cycle of exploitation will only grow louder.

Some were sold dreams they could never afford. Many of those dreams are now lost.

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Sources

Roth, Gary. The Educated Underclass. Pluto Press, 2022
National Center for Education Statistics. “Debt After College”
The Institute for College Access and Success (TICAS). “Student Debt and the Class of 2023”
American Psychological Association. “Mental Health Impacts of Student Debt”
Bousquet, Marc. How the University Works. NYU Press, 2008
McMillan Cottom, Tressie. Lower Ed. The New Press, 2017
https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/i-did-everything-right-and-im-still.html
https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/fashion-gone-bad-for-private-student.html
https://www.gao.gov/products/gao-24-106530
https://standup4borrowerdefense.com
https://www.insidehighered.com/news/government/student-aid-policy/2023/10/24/colleges-concerned-about-rise-borrower-defense-claims

AI-Driven SAT Prep and the System That Creates It: Savage Inequalities and the Gatekeeping of Opportunity

In the world of elite MBA admissions, companies like Target Test Prep (TTP) represent the newest frontier in test preparation: AI-powered, data-driven, personalized, and promising significant score improvements. With glowing endorsements from top publications and thousands of positive reviews, TTP offers an appealing shortcut through the notoriously difficult GMAT exam. For many, this technology-driven prep is the key to unlocking entry into elite business schools that serve as launchpads for high-status careers.

But that shortcut comes at a price. TTP’s GMAT Focus Edition plans range from $149 for a single month, to $399 for four months, and $499 for six months of access. These plans include detailed analytics, thousands of practice questions, custom study plans, and live support. For those who can afford it, the promise is a dramatic score improvement—and, by extension, a potential gateway into institutions like Wharton, Stanford, or INSEAD.

Yet while these platforms showcase technological innovation and customization, their rise also reveals a deeper and more troubling story about the educational and economic system that created them—a system marked by savage inequalities and barriers that often block large segments of the American population before they even reach the starting line.

Savage Inequalities and Unequal Access
The reality is that preparing for a test like the GMAT—and gaining admission to top MBA programs—is not merely about aptitude or effort. It is shaped by profound inequalities that begin long before students log into an AI tutor. Many American students, especially those from low-income, rural, or under-resourced urban backgrounds, lack access to rigorous K-12 education, advanced math and verbal instruction, or the cultural capital needed to navigate elite academic and professional pathways.

These educational disparities, stark and persistent, create a high barrier to entry that standardized test prep—no matter how advanced—cannot fully overcome. The existence and popularity of platforms like TTP expose the market response to these structural gaps: a lucrative industry designed to help those who can afford it to “hack” a system that is, at its core, deeply unequal.

Immigration and the Competition for Opportunity
Another dimension shaping this landscape is the impact of immigration on educational and professional opportunity in the United States. The influx of highly skilled international students—many of whom use GMAT scores to access top programs—has intensified competition for limited seats in elite institutions and the subsequent career pipelines they feed.

For many native-born Americans, particularly from working-class and marginalized communities, this increased competition, combined with systemic educational inequities, creates a double bind. They face both the structural disadvantages of savage inequality and the pressures of an increasingly globalized admissions environment. This reality complicates the narrative of meritocracy often promoted by test prep companies and elite schools alike.

The Marketization of Educational Gatekeeping
AI-driven platforms like Target Test Prep are designed to navigate and exploit this high-stakes, competitive environment. They offer personalized study plans, infinite practice questions, and real-time analytics to maximize test scores—and by extension, chances of admission and career advancement. Yet, these tools are less about democratizing access and more about optimizing performance within a system that already privileges certain groups.

The marketization of test preparation also deepens existing disparities. Students from wealthier backgrounds can afford premium, AI-enhanced prep, while many Americans from less privileged backgrounds are left with fewer resources, perpetuating cycles of exclusion.

Toward a More Equitable Conversation
Target Test Prep’s rise is a symptom of a system that places enormous weight on standardized testing as a gatekeeper to opportunity—one that disproportionately disadvantages many native-born Americans while welcoming a surge of international applicants competing for scarce spots.

As society grapples with these realities, it is critical to question not just how to better prepare for tests, but why such high-stakes exams hold so much power in shaping futures. Addressing savage inequalities in K-12 education, rethinking immigration’s role in admissions, and challenging the dominant credentialing system are necessary steps toward a more equitable educational landscape.

Until then, AI-powered prep companies like TTP will continue to thrive—offering vital tools for some, while spotlighting the systemic barriers faced by many.

Source:
Target Test Prep GMAT Plans & Pricing

Can Student Loan Debtors Work as Digital Nomads?

In recent years, the concept of working remotely while traveling—becoming a digital nomad—has become an aspirational lifestyle for many young professionals. The freedom to work from Bali, Buenos Aires, or Budapest with nothing more than a laptop and a Wi-Fi connection appeals to a generation burdened with economic precarity, stagnating wages, and dwindling faith in the American Dream.

But for over 40 million Americans burdened with student loan debt, the digital nomad lifestyle is not so simple. Can student loan debtors escape the geographic boundaries of the U.S. and work abroad without financial or legal risk? The answer depends on the type of loans, their repayment status, and how U.S. policy—particularly under presidential administrations—impacts enforcement and forgiveness.

The Debt No Passport Can Escape

Unlike credit card debt or even some tax liabilities, federal student loan debt follows Americans abroad. The U.S. Department of Education, through contracted servicers such as Aidvantage (a Maximus company), can still pursue debtors overseas. Wage garnishment, while difficult to enforce on foreign earnings, can be imposed if the debtor returns to the U.S. or has U.S.-based assets. More critically, failure to make payments can lead to loan acceleration, collection fees, and destruction of credit—regardless of one’s physical location.

Private student loans, meanwhile, can be even more punishing. While they don't have access to federal collection tools like tax refund garnishment, private lenders have fewer forgiveness options and are often aggressive in court.

Income-Driven Repayment and Remote Work

In theory, debtors enrolled in an income-driven repayment (IDR) plan could continue making small or even zero-dollar payments based on low or foreign-earned income. The Biden administration’s SAVE Plan is one such program, but its future is uncertain under political pressure and litigation.

However, reporting foreign income can be complex. Many digital nomads use foreign bank accounts, local clients, or under-the-table gigs, making it hard to verify income and remain compliant. The IRS, via the Foreign Account Tax Compliance Act (FATCA), already monitors foreign financial activity of U.S. citizens. Student loan servicers may increasingly cross-reference this information under future administrations eager to enforce repayment—especially if a second Trump administration pursues cuts to loan forgiveness or implements harsh penalties.

The Visa Question

Living abroad full-time usually requires a visa that allows remote work—a gray area in many countries. Some nations, like Portugal, Estonia, and Costa Rica, offer special digital nomad visas. However, these often require proof of steady income. A heavily indebted American with little in the bank and fluctuating freelance income might not qualify. And overstaying a tourist visa while evading loan collectors could lead to a new form of 21st-century statelessness: not legally grounded in any system, and hunted by both creditors and immigration authorities.

Loopholes and Limitations

Some student loan debtors have used their overseas lifestyle to delay or dodge repayments, either by avoiding wage garnishment or reporting low-to-no income. But this is a short-term tactic that can have long-term consequences. Defaulting on federal loans leads to disqualification from forgiveness programs and adds ballooning interest and penalties.

On the other hand, those determined to pursue Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF) or new cancellation pathways must remain in qualifying U.S.-based work. International remote work doesn’t count, even if the employer is American or the job is virtual.

The Future of Debtors Abroad

With growing disillusionment in the U.S. labor market, housing unaffordability, and distrust in higher education, the idea of “exiting the system” is gaining appeal. Online forums like Reddit’s r/studentloandebt and r/digitalnomad are filled with testimonies of people seeking a way out—physically and financially.

But the federal student loan system was never designed with mobility in mind. Instead, it anchors borrowers to domestic obligations. Until policymakers make meaningful reforms—through widespread cancellation, interest elimination, or true debt jubilee—student loan debt will continue to act as a modern tether. For many, even paradise has strings attached.

Final Thoughts

Digital nomadism may offer a temporary reprieve from America’s financial rat race, but it is not a cure for systemic debt. For the student loan debtor, a life abroad might feel freer—but the burden of higher education’s broken promise still weighs heavily, no matter the zip code or time zone.

As the Higher Education Inquirer continues to investigate the exploitative nature of the U.S. credential economy, we invite student loan borrowers abroad or aspiring nomads to share their stories. In this new phase of global capitalism, the educated underclass is learning to move—but cannot yet escape.

The Pritzker Family Paradox: Elite Power, Higher Education, and Political Ambition

          [JB and Penny Pritzker] 

The Pritzker family stands as a symbol of wealth, influence, and access in American public life. From the luxury of Hyatt Hotels to the boardrooms of private equity and the highest ranks of government, their reach extends across economic sectors and institutional spheres. But beneath the carefully managed public image lies a troubling contradiction—one that implicates higher education, for-profit exploitation, and national politics.

Penny Pritzger

Penny Pritzker, a former U.S. Secretary of Commerce and current trustee of Harvard University, has been a key figure in shaping education policy from elite perches. She also had a working relationship with Vistria Group, a private equity firm that now owns the University of Phoenix and Risepoint. These two entities have been central to the subprime college industry—profiting from the hopes of working-class students while delivering poor outcomes and burdensome debt.

Pritzker’s relationship with Vistria runs deeper than simple association. In the late 1990s, she partnered with Vistria co-founder Marty Nesbitt to launch The Parking Spot, a national airport parking venture that brought them both business success and public recognition. When Nesbitt founded Vistria in 2013, he brought with him the experience and elite networks formed during that earlier partnership. Penny Pritzker’s family foundation—Pritzker Traubert—was among the early funders of Vistria, helping to establish its brand as a more “socially conscious” private equity firm. Although she stepped away from any formal role when she joined the Obama administration, her involvement in Vistria’s formation and funding set the stage for the firm’s expansion into sectors like for-profit education and healthcare.

Vistria’s acquisition of the University of Phoenix, and later Risepoint, positioned it as a major player in the privatization of American higher education. The firm continues to profit from schools that promise economic mobility but often deliver student debt and limited job prospects. This is not just a critique of business practices, but a systemic indictment of how elite networks shape education policy, finance, and outcomes.

Penny’s role as a trustee on the Harvard Corporation only sharpens this contradiction. Harvard, a university that markets itself as a global champion of meritocracy and inclusion, remains silent about one of its trustees helping to finance and support a firm that monetizes educational inequality. The governing body has not publicly addressed any potential conflict of interest between her Harvard role and her involvement with Vistria.

JB Pritzger

These contradictions are not limited to Penny. Her brother, J.B. Pritzker, is currently the governor of Illinois and one of the wealthiest elected officials in the country. Though he has no documented personal financial stake in Vistria, his administration has significant ties to the firm. Jesse Ruiz, J.B. Pritzker’s Deputy Governor for Education during his first term, left state government in 2022 to take a top leadership position at Vistria as General Counsel and Chief Compliance Officer.

This revolving-door dynamic—where a senior education policymaker transitions directly from a progressive administration to a private equity firm profiting from for-profit colleges—underscores the ideological alignment and operational synergy between the Pritzker political machine and firms like Vistria. While the governor publicly champions equity and expanded public education access, his administration’s former top education official is now helping manage legal and compliance operations for a firm that extracts value from struggling students and public loan programs.

J.B. Pritzker has announced plans to run for a third term as governor in 2026, but many observers believe he is positioning himself for a 2028 presidential campaign. His high-profile public appearances, pointed critiques of Donald Trump, and increased visibility in early primary states all suggest a national campaign is being tested. With his vast personal wealth, Pritzker could self-fund a serious run while drawing on elite networks built over decades—networks that include both his sister’s role at Harvard and their shared business and political allies.

Elites in US Higher Education, A Familiar Theme 

What emerges is a deeply American story—one in which the same elite networks shape both the problems and the proposed solutions. The Pritzkers are not alone in this dynamic, but their dual influence in higher education and politics makes them a case study in elite capture. They are architects and beneficiaries of a system in which public office, private equity, and nonprofit institutions converge to consolidate power.

The for-profit education sector continues to exploit regulatory gaps, marketing expensive credentials to desperate individuals while avoiding the scrutiny that traditional nonprofit colleges face. When private equity firms like Vistria acquire troubled institutions, they repackage them, restructure their branding, and keep extracting value from public loan dollars. The government lends, students borrow, and investors profit. The people left behind are those without political clout—low-income students, veterans, working parents—who believed the marketing and now face debt with little return.

Harvard’s silence, University of Phoenix’s reinvention, the rebranding of Academic Partnerships/Risepoint, and J.B. Pritzker’s ambitions all signal a troubling direction for American democracy. As more billionaires enter politics and public institutions become more dependent on private capital, the line between public service and private gain continues to erode.

The Higher Education Inquirer believes this moment demands not only scrutiny, but structural change. Until elite universities hold their trustees accountable, until political candidates reject the influence of exploitative industries, and until the public reclaims its voice in higher education policy, the Pritzker paradox will continue to define the American experience—where access to opportunity is sold to the highest bidder, and democracy is reshaped by those who can afford to buy it.

Sources
– U.S. Department of Education College Scorecard
– University of Phoenix outcome data (IPEDS, 2024)
– Harvard University governance and trustee records
– Vistria Group investor reports and public filings
– Wall Street Journal, “America’s Second-Richest Elected Official Is Acting Like He Wants to Be President” (2025)
– Associated Press, “Governor J.B. Pritzker positions himself as national Democratic leader” (2025)
– Vistria.com, “Marty Nesbitt on his friendship with Obama and what he learned from the Pritzkers”
– Politico, “Former Obama Insiders Seek Administration’s Blessing of For-Profit College Takeover” (2016)
– Vistria Group announcement, “Jesse Ruiz Joins Vistria as General Counsel and CCO” (2022)

Climate Change 101: This college campus may be literally underwater sooner than you think

Stockton University’s Atlantic City campus may be treading water—literally and figuratively. Built in 2018 on a stretch of reclaimed land in the South Inlet neighborhood, the coastal satellite of Stockton University sits just a few hundred feet from the Atlantic Ocean. With scenic views and beachfront access, it was marketed as a fresh vision for higher education: experiential learning by the sea.

But according to Rutgers University’s Climate Impact Lab and corroborated by NOAA sea level rise projections, that vision may be short-lived. In less than 50 years, large portions of the campus could be underwater—possibly permanently. In fact, with high tide flooding already happening more frequently in Atlantic City and sea levels expected to rise 2 to 5 feet by 2100 depending on emissions, climate change poses an existential threat not just to Stockton’s Atlantic City facilities, but to the broader idea of oceanfront higher education.

The Science: Rutgers’ Stark Warning

Rutgers’ 2021 “New Jersey Science and Technical Advisory Panel Report” projected sea level rise in the state could exceed 2.1 feet by 2050 and 5.1 feet by 2100 under high emissions scenarios. Even under moderate mitigation efforts, the sea is projected to rise 1.4 to 3.1 feet by 2070, placing critical infrastructure—including roads, utility networks, and public buildings—at risk. Stockton’s coastal campus is among them.

A Teachable Crisis

For students and faculty in environmental science, public policy, and urban planning, Stockton's Atlantic City campus is both classroom and case study. Professors can point to flooding events just blocks away as real-time lessons in sea level rise, coastal erosion, and infrastructure vulnerability. Students witness firsthand the tension between development and environmental limits.

Yet these lived experiences also raise ethical questions. Is the university preparing students for the reality of climate displacement—or is it merely weathering the storm until the next round of state funding? Are public institutions being honest about the long-term risks students will face, not just as residents but as debt-burdened alumni?

In many ways, Stockton’s presence in Atlantic City epitomizes the “climate denial by development” that characterizes so much U.S. urban planning: Build now, mitigate later, and leave tomorrow’s collapse for someone else to manage.

No Easy Retreat

Climate adaptation strategies in Atlantic City have been slow-moving, expensive, and often controversial. Proposed solutions—such as sea walls, elevating roads, and managed retreat—require enormous financial and political capital. There’s also no consensus on how to preserve equity in a shrinking, sinking city.

For Stockton University, retreating from the Atlantic City campus would be politically and financially damaging. The expansion was celebrated with ribbon-cuttings and bipartisan support. Pulling back now would mean acknowledging a costly miscalculation. Yet failing to plan for relocation or phased withdrawal could leave students and taxpayers on the hook for an underwater investment.

According to the New Jersey Coastal Resilience Plan, Atlantic County—home to Stockton’s main and satellite campuses—is one of the most climate-exposed counties in the state. And Stockton isn’t just sitting in the floodplain; it’s training the very people who will be tasked with managing these emergencies. It has both a responsibility and an opportunity to lead, not just in mitigation but in public reckoning.

Lessons for Higher Ed

Stockton is hardly the only university caught between mission and market. Across the U.S., colleges and universities are pouring resources into branding campaigns and capital projects that ignore—or actively obscure—the long-term environmental risks. Climate change is often treated as a course offering, not an existential threat.

In Universities on Fire, Bryan Alexander outlines how climate change will fundamentally reshape the higher education landscape—from facilities planning to enrollment, from energy consumption to curriculum design. He warns that campuses, particularly those located near coasts or in extreme heat zones, face not just infrastructural threats but institutional crises. Rising waters, wildfires, hurricanes, and population shifts will force universities to rethink their physical footprints, economic models, and public obligations.

Yet few accreditors or bond-rating agencies have accounted for climate risk in their evaluations. Endowments continue to fund construction in flood-prone areas. Boards of trustees prioritize expansion over retreat. And students, many of whom are first-generation or low-income, are seldom told what climate vulnerability could mean for the real value of their degrees—or the safety of their dormitories.

As sea levels rise and climate models grow more precise, Stockton’s Atlantic City campus may become a symbol—not just of poor urban planning, but of an education system unprepared for the world it claims to be shaping.

What Comes Next?

For now, Stockton continues to expand its Atlantic City footprint, even as new reports suggest that this part of the Jersey Shore may be uninhabitable or cost-prohibitive to protect in a few decades. The university has proposed additional student housing and even a new coastal research center. But each new building reinforces the same flawed logic: that short-term gains outweigh long-term collapse.

At some point, Stockton University—and many other coastal institutions—will have to decide whether to keep investing in property that’s literally slipping into the sea, or to model the kind of resilience and foresight they claim to teach.

Because this is not just a sustainability issue. It’s a justice issue. It’s a debt issue. It’s a survival issue.

And it’s happening now.

Sources

Bryan Alexander. Universities on Fire: Higher Education in the Climate Crisis. Johns Hopkins University Press, 2023.

NJ Department of Environmental Protection. Resilient NJ: Statewide Coastal Resilience Plan. 2020.

Rutgers University. New Jersey Climate Change Resource Center.

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Back Bay Study – New Jersey.

New Jersey Future. “Climate Risks and Infrastructure in Atlantic County.”

Stockton University. Strategic Plan 2025: Choosing Our Path.

NOAA. State of High Tide Flooding and Sea Level Rise 2023 Technical Report.