Why Centralized Marketing Matters for Online Programs in Higher Ed
At Archer, we’ve onboarded hundreds of institutional partners to help them grow their online programs. And while every partner is unique, there’s one pain point we encounter time and again: decentralized school-level marketing that creates more friction than momentum.
In many institutions, individual colleges or schools manage their own marketing campaigns, budgets, and creative direction. While this siloed approach offers an initial promise of agility and autonomy, it often leads to deeper problems in the market, such as:
Fragmented messaging
Inconsistent branding
Internal competition
Wasted spend as schools bid against each other
Missed opportunities for reach and impact at the brand and portfolio level
The result? Confused students consuming competing voices from the same institution, and internal marketing teams scrambling to scale best practices and measure impact — often without apples-to-apples data and reporting for performance comparisons.
Universities need an integrated marketing strategy that balances a holistic brand and portfolio-level approach with maintaining individual school-level autonomy for certain decisions and activities. This hybrid model unlocks collaboration, reduces conflict, and lifts visibility for all programs within a portfolio.
With shared goals, aligned messaging, and coordinated tactics across all of their schools, universities can amplify their brand and stretch their budgets further — delivering clear, compelling stories across myriad channels to prospective students.
Risks of Decentralized Marketing
In some models of governance, decentralization can be a strength — empowering local leadership and ensuring responsiveness to specific community needs. But when it comes to marketing online university programs in a highly competitive environment, decentralization alone as a strategy is more often a liability than an asset.
Having different departments, schools, or programs run their own campaigns and technology stacks may seem like a way to move faster, but in practice, it creates challenges that can hinder online program growth. Let’s explore some examples.
Brand Confusion
As prospective students evaluate your institution’s online offerings, they are not concerned with the internal structures of your institution. They expect clarity and consistency in the information you provide. When each college or division presents a different tone, design style, and creative messaging approach, you’re left with a weakened institutional brand.
Mixed marketing across digital ads, program pages, email drips, and even tuition and scholarship messaging can erode the trust and credibility you’ve been building with prospective students. For example, inconsistent explanations of scholarships or conflicting tuition information (e.g., on program pages and via tuition calculators) can trigger frustration or skepticism.
In short: Your audience — the prospective student — sees one university. If your university is in conflict with its own marketing, the brand loses power.
Inefficiency and Internal Competition
Without centralized marketing oversight, different teams often end up targeting the same audiences with overlapping campaigns — sometimes even bidding against each other in paid channels. This dilutes your paid marketing efficacy by driving up your cost per lead, wasting precious budget dollars, and undermining the collective impact of your institution’s marketing investments.
Inconsistent Student Experience and Success Metrics
Perhaps the most concerning result of decentralized marketing is a fragmented and uneven student journey. One program might offer seamless inquiry-to-enrollment processes, while another loses momentum after the application process due to poor follow-up and disconnected systems.
When your programs use different customer relationship management (CRM) platforms, it becomes difficult to track leads accurately and measure outcomes with consistency. Reporting becomes murky. Success metrics vary. Problems get misdiagnosed.
Instead of addressing the root causes of problems, your teams might blame each other (e.g., the marketing team and the admissions team) for the other’s perceived performance issues, when the real problem is systemic disconnection.
The Case for Centralized Marketing
Centralization doesn’t mean turning every school or program into a cookie-cutter version of the institution’s mission statement, and it doesn’t mean taking any team’s autonomy away. It’s about aligning around a shared strategy — one that empowers individual teams to execute effectively within a cohesive, coordinated framework.
Unified Brand Messaging
A strong, centralized brand platform allows your university to speak with one clear voice about its online programs, telling the story of:
What your programs offer
Who your programs serve
Why your programs matter
This shared narrative should be rooted in your institution’s values and designed to build trust with prospective students. When every program draws from the same story and messaging pillars, it strengthens your presence across every touchpoint — from digital ads and landing pages to nurture emails and program brochures. Each program’s value propositions may differ, but the institution’s story endures.
Additionally, a unified approach enables your institution to leverage the brand and portfolio-level marketing that raises visibility across all your programs. For example, some institutions have an integrated marketing program for their undergraduate experience but lack a cohesive approach for their online graduate programs. This is a missed opportunity to build a portfolio-level branded presence through channels that individual schools may not be able to afford on their own.
A robust YouTube presence that highlights the benefits of your online graduate education experience (program agnostic), showcases your alumni and graduate education outcomes, and forefronts your strategic organizational partnerships that span individual schools and programs increases the impact for the entire institution with one investment.
Integrated Campaign Planning
Centralized marketing brings together your paid media, content marketing, email strategy, and organic social media into one master plan.
Gone are the days of multiple teams across your institution launching disconnected campaigns, as central calendars and shared audience strategies help ensure each tactic contributes to every team’s strategic goals. This means reduced duplication, avoidance of internal bidding wars, and maximization of every marketing dollar.
However, your individual schools can and should have decision-making authority over the key value proposition definitions, target personas, and positioning of programs within their fields. This requires a collaborative conversation in an integrated campaign-planning scenario.
And schools should continue to develop campaigns where the impact is greatest for them — for example, hosting prospective student events and webinars, offering ambassador programs for prospective student questions, and attending events meaningful to their specific program field, such as at conferences and exhibit halls.
Shared Data and Measurement
In a world of data, perhaps the greatest and most immediate impact of centralized marketing will be felt in how your institution tracks performance holistically. With unified key performance indicators (KPIs) and shared access to insights, marketing teams at all levels — central and within academic schools — can identify what’s working for them, pivot when needed, and scale successful tactics across programs.
Teams can review where the branded portfolio-level efforts are causing the greatest lift in impressions and leads and determine together how school-level marketing activities can make the most impactful use of funds.
What Centralized Marketing Looks Like in Practice
At Archer, we’ve seen institutions achieve dramatic improvements simply by unifying their marketing strategy — even if execution remains shared and distributed. With a strong central foundation in place, teams tap into shared creative resources, coordinate campaigns across programs, and drive stronger performance through unified media buying and consistent messaging.
At its best, centralized marketing can:
Empower programs to amplify one another rather than compete
Allow creative strategy to be produced once then repurposed widely
Create paid efforts that are smarter, more cost effective, and better targeted
In sum, when your institution implements an integrated marketing model that fosters collaboration among academic schools, it can result in performance that is greater than the sum of its parts.
Archer Education knows what it takes to bring siloed departments together. Our unique partnership-based approach allows us to truly understand your institution, then implement efficiencies to ignite your online programs’ potential through a centralized marketing strategy that is balanced with school autonomy and meaningful participation. Contact us today to learn more.
EducationDynamics Transforms Insights into Action for Higher Ed Leaders
The higher education landscape is in constant motion. To truly thrive, institutions committed to student success must not just keep pace but anticipate what’s next. The National Student Clearinghouse (NSC) recently released two crucial reports in June 2025—one on “some college, no credential” (SCNC) undergraduates and another on overall undergraduate student retention and persistence. These aren’t just statistics. They are the roadmap for strategic action.
At EducationDynamics, we don’t merely react to these insights. We proactively integrate them into data-driven solutions that empower our partners to excel. Our deep understanding of the higher education market, sharpened by years of proprietary research, allows us to translate these macro trends into micro-level strategies that deliver tangible results for your institution.
Strategic Implications from the NSC June Update
The latest NSC findings highlight several critical areas demanding immediate attention from higher education leaders:
Persistence and Retention Gaps
While overall persistence is at 78% and retention at 70%, a significant disparity exists. Bachelor’s and certificate-seeking students show much higher rates than those pursuing associate degrees. Generalized support isn’t enough. Tailored academic and financial aid advising, particularly for associate-degree pathways, is essential to prevent attrition at critical junctures.
The Part-Time Student Paradox
Persistence and retention rates for part-time students are a staggering 30% lower than their full-time peers. Part-time learners often juggle work and family. Institutions must design flexible and accessible support systems, including asynchronous learning, evening/weekend advising, and re-evaluating traditional program structures.
Sectoral Disparities
For-profit institutions demonstrate significantly lower retention and persistence rates compared to not-for-profit counterparts. Regardless of sector, consistent and proactive communication focused on evolving student needs is crucial. This means dedicated engagement strategies, not just reactive responses.
Equity in Outcomes
White and Asian students continue to exhibit the highest persistence and retention rates. Achieving equitable outcomes demands meticulously analyzing data by affinity group, identifying specific barriers faced by underserved populations, and then designing targeted, culturally competent support programs.
The Power of Re-Engagement
The share of re-enrollees earning a credential in their first year has increased by nearly five percent, with students who have at least two full years of credits being most likely to re-enroll and persist. Notably, 36% re-enroll at the same school. Your “stopped out” student population is a goldmine for re-enrollment. Proactive, personalized outreach, highlighting clear paths to completion, is a win-win for both institutions seeking to boost enrollment and students aiming to achieve their academic aspirations.
The Online Advantage
In almost all cases, a plurality of re-enrolling students chose primarily online schools. Even if your institution isn’t primarily online, a robust and well-promoted suite of online program options is vital. Flexibility in format and delivery is critical to meet the diverse needs of today’s learners.
Certificate Pathways as Catalysts
Nearly half of re-enrolled SCNC students who earned a credential in their first year attained an undergraduate certificate. Expanding and actively promoting undergraduate certificate programs, especially those aligning with in-demand skills or acting as stepping stones to degrees, can significantly boost completion rates among the SCNC population.
How EducationDynamics Turns Insights into Action for Our Partners
Tailored Support for the Modern Learner
We partner with institutions to develop AI-powered communication workflows and personalized engagement platforms that proactively address the specific needs of part-time, non-traditional, and diverse student populations. For instance, our work with one regional university saw a 15% increase in part-time student retention within two semesters by implementing automated check-ins and flexible advising scheduling based on our Engaging the Modern Learner report findings.
Optimizing Re-Engagement Pipelines
Our “Education Reengagement Report: Inspiring Reenrollment in Some College No Credential Students” anticipated the NSC’s findings on the SCNC population. We’ve since refined our “Lost Student Analysis” methodology, which identifies high-potential stopped-out students and crafts targeted re-enrollment campaigns. For a recent partner, this resulted in re-enrolling over 200 SCNC students in a single academic year, directly contributing to enrollment growth.
Strategic Program Portfolio Development
Understanding the demand for online and certificate options, we guide institutions in developing and promoting flexible program offerings. This includes comprehensive market research to identify in-demand certificate programs and optimizing their visibility through targeted marketing. Our expertise helps institutions strategically align their offerings with what NSC data shows students are seeking.
Equity-Driven Enrollment & Retention
We help institutions implement data segmentation and predictive analytics to identify students at risk of stopping out based on various demographic and academic factors. This enables early intervention and the allocation of resources to underserved groups, fostering a more equitable and supportive learning environment.
Proactive Market Intelligence
Our partners gain an unparalleled advantage with early access to our market research reports and bespoke analyses. These reports, often preceding or complementing national findings like the NSC’s, provide actionable recommendations that allow institutions to adapt their strategies ahead of the curve, rather than playing catch-up.
Your Partner in Data-Driven Student Success
EducationDynamics is more than a service provider. We are a strategic partner dedicated to empowering higher education leaders with the insights and tools needed to navigate an evolving landscape and maximize student success. We combine cutting-edge market intelligence with proven strategies, transforming data into actionable plans that boost retention, drive re-enrollment and foster a truly student-centric institution.
July 28, 2025, by Dr. Chet Haskell: The headlines are full of uncertainty for American higher education. “Crisis” is a common descriptor. Federal investigations of major institutions are underway. Severe cuts to university research funding have been announced. The elimination of the Department of Education is moving ahead. Revisions to accreditation processes are being floated. Reductions in student support for educational grants and loans are now law. International students are being restricted.
These uncertainties and pressures affect all higher education, not just targeted elite institutions. In particular, they are likely to exacerbate the fragility of smaller, independent non-profit institutions already under enormous stress. Such institutions, some well-known, others known only locally, will be hard hit particularly hard by the combination of Trump Administration pressures and the developing national demographic decline for traditional-age students.(https://www.highereddive.com/news/decline-high-school-graduates-demographic-cliff-wiche-charts/738281/) These small colleges have been a key element of the American higher education scene, as well as for numerous local communities, for many decades.
It is widely understood that the vibrancy of American higher education comes, in part, from the diversity of its institutions and educational goals. The rich mixture of American colleges and universities is a strength that many other nations lack. Students have opportunities to start and stop their educations, to change directions and academic goals, to move among different types of institutions.
Smaller undergraduate colleges play important roles in this non-systemic system. They provide focused educational opportunities for younger adults, where they can build their lives on broad principles. Impressively large percentages of small college graduates go on to graduate education for various professions. Small colleges provide large numbers of graduates who enter PhD programs and eventually enter the professorate.
There are approximately 1179 accredited private institutions with enrollments of fewer than 3000 students. Of these, 185 have between 3000 and 2000 students. Another 329 have enrollments below 2000 but above 1000. A final 650 institutions have enrollments below 1000. These 1179 institutions students include few wealthy colleges such as Williams, Amherst, Carleton or Pomona, as well as numerous struggling, relatively unknowns.
A basic problem is one of scale. In the absence of significant endowments or other external support, it is very difficult to manage small institutions in a cost effective manner. Institutions with enrollments below 1000 are particularly challenged in this regard. The fundamental economics of small institutions are always challenging, as most are almost completely dependent on student enrollments, a situation getting worse with the coming decline of traditional college age students. There are limited options available to offset this decline. Renewed attention to student retention is one. Another is adding limited graduate programs. However, both take investment, appropriate faculty and staff capacity and time, all of which are often scarce.
These institutions have small endowments measured either in total or per student value. Of the 1179. There are only 80 with total endowments in excess of $200 million. While a handful have per student endowments that rival the largest private universities, (Williams, Amherst and Pomona all have per student endowments in excess of $1.8 million), the vast majority have per student endowments in the $40,000 range and many far less.
Most of these schools have high tuition discount rates, often over 50%, so their net tuition revenue is a fraction of posted expense. They are all limited by size – economies of scale are difficult to achieve. And most operate in highly competitive markets, where the competition is not only other small schools, but also a range of public institutions.
So, what is the underendowed, under resourced small college to do?
The most common initiatives designed to address these sorts of challenges are consortia, collaborative arrangements among institutions designed to increase student options and to share expenses. There are numerous such arrangements, examples being the Colleges of the Fenway in Boston, the Five Colleges of Western Massachusetts, the Washington DC Metropolitan Area Consortium, and the Claremont Colleges in California, among others.
The particulars of each of these groups differ, but there are commonalities. Most are geographically oriented, seeking to take advantage from being near each other. Typically, these groups want to provide more opportunities for students through allowing cross-registrations, sharing certain academic programs or joint student activities. They usually have arrangements for cost-sharing or cost reductions through shared services for costs like security services, IT, HR, risk management options, pooled purchasing and the like. In other cases (like the Claremont Consortium) they may share libraries or student athletic facilities. Done well, these arrangements can indeed reduce costs while also attracting potential students through wider access to academic options.
However, it is unlikely that such initiatives, no matter how successful, can fundamentally change the basic financial situation of an independent small college. Such shared services savings are necessary and useful, but usually not sufficient to offset the basic enrollment challenge. The financial impact of most consortia is at the margins.
Furthermore, participating institutions have to be on a solid enough financial basis to take part in the first place. Indeed, a consortium like Claremont is based on financial strength. Two of the members have endowments in excess of $1.2 billion (Pomona’s is $2.8 billion.) The endowments of the others range from a low of $67 million (Keck Graduate with 617 students) to Scripps with $460 million for 1100 students.) The Consortium is of clear value to its members, but none of these institutions is on the brink of failure. Rather, all have strong reputations, a fact that provides another important enrollment advantage.
One important factor in these consortia arrangements is that the participating institutions do not have to give up their independence or modify their missions. Their finances, alumni and accreditation are separate. And while the nature of the arrangement indicates certain levels of compromise and collaboration, their governance remains basically unchanged with independent fiduciary boards.
At the other end of the spectrum are two radically different situations. One is merging with or being acquired by another institution. Prep Scholar counts 33 such events since 2015. (https://blog.prepscholar.com/permanently-closed-colleges-list). Lacking the resources for financial sustainability, many colleges have had no choice but to take such steps.
Merging or being acquired by a financially stronger institution has many advantages. Faculty and staff jobs may be protected. Students can continue with their studies. The institution being acquired may be able to provide continuity in some fashion within the care of the new owner. Endowed funds may continue. The institution’s name may continue as part of an “institute” or “center” within the new owner’s structure. Alumni records can be maintained. Real estate can be transferred. Debts may be paid off and so forth. There are multiple examples of the acquiring institution doing everything possible along these lines.
But some things end. Independent governance and accreditation cease as those functions are subsumed by the acquiring institution. Administrative and admissions staffs are integrated and some programs, people and activities are shed. Operational leadership changes. And over time, what was once a beloved independent institution may well fade away.
The end of a college is a very sad thing for all involved and, indeed, for society in general. Often a college is an anchor institution in a small community and the loss is felt widely. The closure of a college is akin to the closure of a local factory. As Dean Hoke and others have noted, this is a particular problem for rural communities.
Are there other possible avenues, something between a consortium and a merger or outright closure?
One relatively new model has been organized by two quite different independent institutions, Otterbein University and Antioch University, that came together in 2022 to create the Coalition for the Common Good. Designed to be more than a simple bilateral partnership, the vision of the Coalition is eventually to include several institutions in different locations linked by a common mission and the capacity to grow collective enrollments.
At its core, the Coalition is based on academic symbiosis. Otterbein is a good example of the high-quality traditional undergraduate residential liberal arts institution. It has been well-run and has modest financial resources. Facing the demographic challenges noted earlier (in a state like Ohio that boasts dozens of such institutions), it developed a set of well-regarded graduate programs, notably in nursing and health-related fields, along with locally based teacher education programs and an MBA. However, despite modest success, they faced the limitations of adult programs largely offered in an on-campus model. Regardless of quality, they lacked the capacity to expand such programs beyond Central Ohio.
Antioch University, originally based in Ohio, had evolved over the past 40 years into a more national institution with locations in California, Washington State and New Hampshire offering a set of graduate professional programs to older adults mostly through distance modalities in hybrid or low-residency forms. Antioch, however, was hampered by limited resources including a very small endowment. It had demonstrated the capacity to offer new programs in different areas and fields but lacked the funds necessary for investment to do so.
Within the Coalition, the fundamental arrangement is for Antioch to take over Otterbein’s graduate programs and, with Otterbein financial support, to expand them in other parts of the country. The goal is significant aggregate enrollment growth and sharing of new revenues. While they plan a shared services operation to improve efficiencies and organizational effectiveness, their primary objective is growth. Antioch seeks to build on Otterbein’s successes, particularly with nursing programs. It already has considerable experience in managing academic programs at a distance, a fact that will be central as it develops the Otterbein nursing and health care programs in a new Antioch Graduate School of Nursing and Health Professions.
It is assumed that additional new members of the Coalition will resemble Otterbein in form, thus further increasing opportunities for growth through enhanced reach and greater scale. New members in other geographic locations will provide additional opportunities for expansion. One early success of the Coalition has been the capacity to offer existing Antioch programs in Central Ohio, including joint partnerships with local organizations, health care and educational systems. Crucially, both institutions remain separately accredited with separate governance and leadership under a Coalition joint “umbrella” structure.
This is not to assert that this model would work for many other institutions. First, many schools with limited graduate programs will be reluctant to “give up” some or all these programs to another partner in the same fashion as Otterbein has with Antioch. Others may not fit geographically, being too remote for expansion of existing programs. Still others may not wish to join a group with an avowed social justice mission. Finally, as with some consortia, the Coalition arrangement assumes a certain degree of institutional financial stability – it cannot work for institutions on the brink of financial disaster, lest the weakest institution drag down the others.
Are there other organizational variants that are more integrated than consortia, but allow the retention of their independence in ways impossible in a merger or acquisition model? What can be learned from the Coalition initiative that might help others? How might such middle-ground collaboration models be encouraged and supported?
How can philanthropy help?
This is an opportunity for the segments of the philanthropic world to consider possible new initiatives to support the small college elements of the education sector. While there will always be efforts to gain foundation support for individual colleges, there will never be enough money to buttress even a small portion of deserving institutions that face the financial troubles discussed above
Philanthropy should take a sectoral perspective. One key goal should be to find ways to support smaller institutions in general. Instead of focusing on gifts to particular institutions, those interested in supporting higher education should look at the multiple opportunities for forms of collaborative or collective action. Central to this effort should be exploration of ways of supporting diverse collaborative initiatives. One example would be to provide sufficient backing to a struggling HBCU or women’s college to enable it to be sufficiently stable to participate in a multi-institutional partnership.
As noted, institutional consortia are well established as one avenue for such collaboration. Consortia have existed for many years. There are consortia-based associations that encourage and support consortia efforts. However, every consortium is unique in its own ways, as participating institutions have crafted a specific initiative of a general model to meet their particular situations and need. Consortia can be important structures for many institutions and should be encouraged.
But there is a large middle ground between consortia arrangements and mergers and acquisitions. The Coalition for the Common Good is but one such arrangement and it is still in its early stages. What has been learned from the experience thus far that might be of use to other institutions and groups? How might this middle ground be explored further for the benefit of other institutions?
One thing learned from the Coalition is the complexity of developing a new model for collective action. Antioch and Otterbein separately pursued individual explorations of options for two or more years before determining that their partnership together should move forward. It then took a full year to get to the point of announcing their plans and another year to complete negotiations and sign completed legal documents and to obtain the necessary accreditor, regulator and Department of Education approvals. The actual implementation of their plans is still in a relatively early stage. In short, it takes time.
It also takes tremendous effort by leadership on both sides, as they must work closely together while continuing to address the daily challenges of their separate institutions. Everyone ends up with at least two major jobs. Communication is vital. Boards must continue to be supportive. The engagement of faculty and staff takes time and can be costly.
What is often referred to as “fit” – the melding of cultures and attitudes at both the institutional and individual levels – is essential. People must be able to work together for shared goals. The burdens of accreditation, while necessary, are time-consuming and multifaceted. There are many things that can go wrong. Indeed, there are examples of planned and announced mergers or collaborations that fall apart before completion.
Philanthropic institutions could support this work in numerous ways, first for specific initiatives and then for the sector, by providing funding and expertise to facilitate new forms of coalitions. These could include:
Providing financial support for the collaborative entity. While participating institutions eventually share the costs of creating the new arrangement, modest dedicated support funding could be immensely useful for mitigating the impact of legal expenses, due diligence requirements, initial management of shared efforts and expanded websites.
Providing support for expert advice. The leaders of two institutions seeking partnership need objective counsel on matters financial, legal, organizational, accreditation and more. Provision of expertise for distance education models is often a high priority, since many small colleges have limited experience with these.
Funding research. There are multiple opportunities for research and its dissemination. What works? What does not? How can lessons learned by disseminated?
Supporting communication through publications, workshops, conferences and other venues.
Developing training workshops for boards, leadership, staff and faculty in institutions considering collaborations.
Crafting a series of institutional incentives through seed grant awards to provide support for institutions just beginning to consider these options.
These types of initiatives might be separate, or they might be clustered into a national center to support and promote collaboration.
These and other ideas could be most helpful to many institutions exploring collaboration. Above all, it is important to undertake such explorations before it is too late, before the financial situation becomes so dire that there are few, if any, choices.
Conclusions
This middle ground is not a panacea. The harsh reality is that not all institutions can be saved. It takes a certain degree of stability and a sufficient financial base to even consider consortia or middle ground arrangements like the Coalition for the Common Good. Merging with or being acquired by stronger institutions is not a worst-case scenario – there are often plenty of reasons, not just financial, that this form of change makes great sense for a smaller, weaker institution.
It is also important for almost all institutions, even those with significant endowment resources, to be thinking about possible options. The stronger the institution, the stronger the resistance to such perspectives is likely to be. There are examples of wealthy undergraduate institutions with $1 billion endowments that are losing significant sums annually in their operating budgets. Such endowments often act like a giant pillow, absorbing the institutional challenges and preventing boards and leaders from facing difficult decisions until it may be too late. Every board should be considering possible future options.
In the face of likely government rollbacks of support, the ongoing demographic challenges for smaller institutions and the general uncertainties in some circle about the importance of higher education itself, independent private higher education must be more creative and assertive about its future. Also, it is essential to remember that the existential financial challenges facing these institutions predate the current Presidential Administration and certainly will remain once it has passed into history.
Just trying to compete more effectively for enrollments will not be sufficient. Neither will simply reducing expense budgets. New collaborative models are needed. Consortia have roles to play. The example of the Coalition for the Common Good may show new directions forward. Anyone who supports the diversity of American higher education institutions should work to find new ways of assuring financial stability while adhering to academic principles and core missions.
Chet Haskell is an independent higher education consultant. Most recently, he was Vice Chancellor for Academic Affairs and University Provost at Antioch University and Vice President for Graduate Programs of the Coalition for the Common Good.
One of the oldest and most respected liberal arts institutions in America, Haverford College has a long history of principled protest — from its abolitionist Quaker founders to the anti-Vietnam War movement of the 20th century. In recent years, that tradition has sadly curdled into a culture of censorship. But a new free-speech committee plans to restore this lost legacy.
But Haverford has in recent years developed one of the most restrictive campus speech climates in the country. The college has plummeted in FIRE’s College Free Speech Rankings, landing 220th out of 251 schools in terms of how comfortable students are in expressing their ideas. Making matters worse, Haverford has taken the radical step of codifying its own decline. In a 2021 overhaul of its Honor Code, the college allowed the Honor Council to put students on trial for their political opinions. FIRE named it “Speech Code of the Month” and urged President Wendy Raymond to reject the changes. She did not.
Four years later, the tide is finally turning.
On July 9, 2025, Haverford’s Ad Hoc Committee on Freedom of Expression, Learning, and Community publicly released its final report, marking a pivotal course correction. The committee said the school’s Social Honor Code “is overly proscriptive and therefore restricts expressive freedom,” inferring that, when the code was written, “students were trying to legislate power dynamics between individuals based on a broader perception of societal imbalances and pursuit of social justice.” The committee criticized the code’s intrusion into interpersonal relationships and enforcement of ideological conformity, contributing to “a climate of silencing non-dominant viewpoints” and stifling “deeper learning and dialogue.”
The committee got it exactly right.
At Haverford — where liberals currently outnumber conservatives six-to-one — social justice is a broadly shared value. In 2021, that value motivated an egregiously censorious speech code. Now, nudged by news headlines in which the federal government has sought to effectively nationalize a private university and routinelyunderminesthe First Amendment, Haverford seems to have rediscovered the importance of free speech.
As former ACLU Executive Director Ira Glasser famously warned, “Speech restrictions are like poison gas. You see a bad speaker out there, and you don’t wanna listen to him or her anymore. So you got this poison gas and you say, ‘I’m gonna spray him with it!’ And then the wind shifts. And pretty soon, the gas blows back on you.”
Glasser added: “And so, free speech is a kind of insurance policy. And the price you pay for that insurance policy is you gotta listen to bad people.”
Haverford’s committee deserves credit for recognizing the absolute necessity of a strong free speech culture to a liberal arts education. Notably, the committee affirmed the importance of an open marketplace of ideas in carrying out Haverford’s educational mission, called on President Raymond to adopt an institutional statement supporting free expression, and recommended greater schoolwide investment in civil discourse programming. Perhaps most significantly, the committee called for revisions to the Social Honor Code. These changes could improve Haverford’s “red light” rating in FIRE’s Spotlight Database of speech codes as well as raise the college’s standing in our College Free Speech Rankings.
The world is better when we embrace the humility of uncertainty — when we are willing to listen to others, debate them, work to understand them — no matter how immovable our current beliefs feel.
Last December, FIRE sent the committee a letter offering resources and support as they reviewed Haverford’s speech climate and policies. The committee subsequently cited FIRE’s publicly available policy guidance on acceptable time, place, and manner restrictions in its final report. And the college’s new “Interim Policy on Expressive Freedom and Responsibility” passed our Policy Reform team’s review with flying colors. We encourage Haverford to make this policy permanent.
In addition to harnessing FIRE’s insights, the committee turned to students, faculty, staff, and alumni for feedback. And even before the committee was formed, a group of students and alumni made their concerns clear with The New Kronstadt (an online magazine I created through FIRE’s Campus Scholars Program), named after the Kronstadt Rebellion in which socialist sailors in the early Soviet Union demanded free speech and other civil liberties. Vladimir Lenin didn’t take kindly to these demands and ordered the sailors slaughtered. Soviet troops massacred the rebels, illustrating how sometimes the most brutal form of censorship comes from within shared communities.
Sounding the FIRE alarm at Haverford College
Despite its proud history at my school, it is clear that free speech is not fully valued at Haverford College today.
Quite often, movements rooted in moral causes attract idealists, and idealists tend to crave clarity. Demanding conformity then becomes a way of reducing ambiguity in a morally messy world. But as Haverford alumnus and aspiring archivist Nicholas Lasinsky wrote in an op-ed for TheNew Kronstadt, “The world is better when we embrace the humility of uncertainty — when we are willing to listen to others, debate them, work to understand them — no matter how immovable our current beliefs feel. This is a fundamental step in any journey to understanding a topic, and a fundamental step of education.”
Haverford seems poised to take that step again. As a Haverford alum and FIRE staffer, I’m proud to see my alma mater return to its pro-free speech roots. The work I do every day to defend free expression is shaped by the values, people, and intellectual traditions I came to know at Haverford.
This summer, I attended the Colorado Conference on Civic Discourse to facilitate a workshop titled “Let’s Talk: Student Civil Discourse.” The keynote conversation featured Cornel West, a visiting professor at Haverford in the late 1970s and early 1980s and a frequent guest speaker on campus ever since. After watching West, a prominent left-wing defender of free thought and expression, engage in civil discourse with his friend and longtime sparring partner, the conservative legal scholar Robert P. George, I had a chance to speak with West. His face lit up when he heard I’d studied at Haverford. He remembered my old English professor and Haverford’s former president, Kimberly Benston, as a brilliant scholar of the often-censored writers Ralph Ellison and Amiri Baraka. Reflecting on how those authors shaped us, we lingered on the final line of Ellison’s Invisible Man: “Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?”
When any honest, unfiltered voice is heard, it can speak beyond identity and viewpoint, breaking a silence we may not know we shared. Finding the courage to speak is our shared human condition.
On a deeper level, Ellison’s Invisible Man is not only the story of one nameless black man navigating 1940s America, but a meditation on the universal struggle for self-definition and human dignity — and the necessity of free speech to achieve it. For when any honest, unfiltered voice is heard, it can speak beyond identity and viewpoint, breaking a silence we may not know we shared. Finding the courage to speak is our shared human condition.
This month, Haverford found its voice again — and called for its administrators to reaffirm the right of its community to speak freely. Now, college leadership must answer. President Raymond must ensure the committee’s words do not ring hollow and take action to ensure the Social Honor Code is revised to permit free speech. The college should also adopt an institutional statement on free expression and implement the cultural investments and pedagogical programming the committee prescribed. If the committee’s recommendations take hold, a frequent Quaker refrain and campus ideal can resonate with renewed promise: “Let your life speak.”
Owais, a student in Srinagar, had been studying for his college entrance exam for two years. But when the day came to take the test, the roads were closed because of shelling between Pakistan and India. Srinagar is located in Kashmir, a region that has been claimed by both both countries. He couldn’t reach the exam center.
“It felt like my future was stolen by something I had no control over,” Owais said.
For decades, the relentless conflict in the Kashmir region has crushed the educational dreams of countless youth, ensnaring them in a cycle of violence and uncertainty.
Across the world, armed conflicts in places like Kashmir, Gaza and Ukraine, are systematically dismantling the infrastructure of education, leaving entire generations at risk.
The right to education has long been considered a fundamental right. The United Nations made it Article 26 in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights adopted back in 1948.
But it seems to have little priority in today’s international conflicts and civil wars. A 2024 global study from An-Najah National University in the West Bank found that political violence disrupts education for 90 million students across 40 conflict-affected regions in the world.
Long-term costs of a crisis
The An-Najah study estimated that students in these conflict zones lose an average of 1.5 years of education, reducing their lifetime earning potential by 20-30%. This economic impact compounds the psychological toll, fostering a sense of hopelessness that spans borders. The global scope of this crisis is staggering.
The latest resurgence in violence in the Kashmir region began in April 2025, when militants ambushed tourists in the town of Pahalgam, killing 26 civilians — including one local pony ride operator.
That prompted India to suspend treaties and border crossings. In retaliation, India launched Operation Sindoor on 7 May targeting what was believed to be nine terrorist camps in Pakistan and Pakistan‑administered Kashmir.
Pakistan responded with heavy shelling, missile and drone strikes across the Line of Control, which serves as the disputed border between India and Pakistan, hitting homes, schools, religious sites and causing dozens of civilian deaths. The intense escalation subsided with a mutually agreed ceasefire effective 10 May.
In Kashmir, conflict disrupts education in two deeply damaging ways: first, shelling along the border destroys schools and displaces children; second, Kashmiri students living outside the region are often harassed and targeted simply for being Kashmiri and Muslim. Since Kashmir is India’s only Muslim-majority region, there is a perception across India that simply being Kashmiri links a person to militancy. As a result, Kashmiri students who live elsewhere in India often find themselves scapegoated.
Attacks outside of conflict zones
After major attacks — like the shelling in Pahalgam — students report being beaten, threatened or taunted by peers, vigilantes and sometimes even security personnel in cities across India. Consider the case of Saima, a young woman from Kashmir, who missed a critical interview in Delhi for acceptance into an engineering program not because of shelling, but because circulating videos of Kashmiri students being harassed terrified her.
Fearing for her safety, she asked for the interview to be conducted remotely but the university denied the request.
“Whenever incidents like the Pahalgam attack happen, Kashmiri students become the first targets outside Kashmir,” Saima said. “My generation witnesses everything — we go out to learn, but we become victims. Several of my friends left their education because of conflicts like stone pelting and curfews.”
Many of the students studying in Indian cities like Delhi and Bangalore end up returning home and abandoning their degrees.
“People look at me like I’m a threat,” said Zeeshaan, a Kashmiri student at a Delhi university. “I’ve faced taunts, and once, threats even at my hostel.”
This disruption in education caused directly or indirectly by armed international or regional conflicts occurs across the globe as the conflicts pushes students to foreign regions. A joint study by Cambridge University and the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) found that the conflict in Palestine has created a “lost generation” of Palestinian youth, set back by up to five years in education due to trauma and lack of access.
Palestinian students abroad, for example, face similar xenophobia, with 32% reporting harassment linked to their identity, according to the An-Najah study.
Lack of teachers
In a May, the UNRWA reported in a post on the social media site X that 660,000 children in Gaza are out of school due to the war. The An-Najah study came to the same conclusion, finding that that 23% of Gaza’s schools have been destroyed since 2023, impacting 600,000 students.
Temporary schools in displacement camps in Gaza are woefully under-resourced, with only 15% of teachers trained to address trauma-induced learning gaps, leaving students like Fatima with little hope of resuming their studies. In Gaza, the ongoing conflict there has obliterated schools and shattered hopes.
In Ukraine, the war paints an equally grim picture. The World Health Organization reports that 3,800 educational institutions have been damaged or destroyed since the Russian invasion displacing 2.8 million students.
For those displaced to other regions, language barriers and social exclusion also push 45% of these students to consider dropping out. Many find themselves in regions, such as Russian-speaking areas, or countries like Poland, Hungary or Germany where Ukrainian is not spoken. In these host communities, the language barriers and cultural differences often lead to social exclusion, isolation and bullying.
The harm to education seems to be largely ignored by intervening governments. The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), for example. found that just 3.5% of aid for Gaza has been invested in education.
“Major donors like the U.S. and Germany have neglected education in their aid packages and blockades continue to hinder the delivery of resources on the ground,” OCHA reported.
Questions to consider:
1. How can a war in a place like Kashmir affect students who study in places far away?
2. What is meant by a right to education?
3. How important is schooling to you and your family?
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
Since Oct. 7, 2023, scholars and members of the broader public have debated whether Israel’s war against Hamas in Gaza actually constitutes a genocide of Palestinians. Fights have erupted over scholarly association resolutions, course descriptions and assignments calling it such.
Ramsi Woodcock, a University of Kentucky law professor, says it’s a genocide. On his website, antizionist.net, he says that the ongoing genocide—combined with his expectation that Israel would violate any future ceasefire and continue killing—creates a “moral duty” for the world’s nations.
That duty, he writes in the “Petition for Military Action Against Israel,” is to wage war on Israel until it “has submitted permanently and unconditionally to the government of Palestine everywhere from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea.” He asks fellow law scholars to sign the petition, adding that Israel is a colony and war is needed to decolonize.
This month—just after Woodcock says he was promoted to full professor—the university removed him from teaching. In a July 18 message to campus that doesn’t specifically name Woodcock, UK president Eli Capilouto wrote that legal counsel was investigating whether an employee’s “conduct may violate federal and state guidance as well as university policies.”
“We have been made aware of allegations of disturbing conduct, including an online petition calling for the destruction of a people based on national origin,” Capilouto wrote. Woodcock told Inside Higher Ed that characterization of his petition is “obviously defamatory, creates a hostile environment for me and makes me potentially physically unsafe.” He said he’s considering suing Capilouto and the university for defamation.
Capilouto further wrote that the petition, which the unnamed university employee seemed to be “broadly” circulating online, “can be interpreted as antisemitic in accordance with state and federal guidance.” Woodcock responded that “what Palestinians resist, and what those who advocate for them resist, is colonization, apartheid and a currently unfolding genocide—they are not opposed to any particular religion or any particular people.”
But Shlomo Litvin, chairman of the Kentucky Jewish Council and rabbi for the Chabad at UK Jewish Student Center, told Inside Higher Ed that “calling for the establishment of a state that is free of Jews in a land that currently has seven million Jews is calling for the death of seven million Jews,” including “families and relatives of [Woodcock’s] students.”
“What he’s calling for is a second Holocaust,” Litvin said, adding that “this idea that there is a possibility of the Jews coming to some imaginary country and being safe there is a fantasy that not even he believes.”
Woodcock countered, “Rabbi Litvin is trying to distract us from an actual second Holocaust that Israel is committing right now in Gaza and which only immediate military intervention will stop.”
Woodcock has become another example of pro-Palestine faculty across the country being investigated for their writing or speech about the conflict while they aren’t teaching. During the Biden era, investigations at other universities led to discipline and terminations. The current Trump administration has stripped universities of federal funding and punished them in other ways for allegedly failing to address campus antisemitism. And Woodcock’s case continues the debate about when denunciations of Israel or Zionism are or aren’t antisemitic.
But why UK began investigating Woodcock now remains unclear.
‘Not Academic Discourse’
In a July 18 email obtained by Inside Higher Ed, UK’s general counsel, William E. Thro, wrote to Woodcock that “recently, the university became aware of your writings on certain websites, your conduct at academic conferences, and your postings on American Association of Law Schools [sic] list serves [sic], and other actions.”
“These activities may create a hostile environment for Jewish members of the university community or otherwise constitute harassment as defined by the Supreme Court,” Thro wrote. “The university has concerns that your actions may violate Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the equivalent state laws, and various university policies.”
Title VI prohibits discrimination based on shared ancestry, including antisemitism.
But the letter didn’t provide further details, such as what conference conduct or writings the university was concerned about, or how university officials became aware of this expression. A UK spokesperson said, “At this time, we are not going to comment beyond [Capilouto’s] statement, as there is an active investigation.”
Woodcock said he made a statement about “Israel’s genocide of Palestinians” at a conference over a year ago. He later shared a link to his antizionist.net site on Association of American Law Schools online discussion forums, triggering “really lively debate about whether Israel has a right to exist.”
“Nobody wants to talk about that question, and as soon as you bring it up, you see how hungry people are to debate it,” Woodcock said.
He says he created the antizionist.net website late last year but didn’t share it broadly until the start of this month. It’s a site for what he dubs the Antizionist legal studies movement.
“Israel is committing genocide against Palestinians in Gaza,” Woodcock wrote on the site in December. “No genocide in the 20th century ended without armed intervention. For more than a year now, the international community has been in denial about the implication of these two facts.”
He listed various failed international efforts to stop the genocide, ending with “Even the most outspoken international lawyers dare not speak the name of the only thing that history suggests might actually stop Israel. That is, of course, war—by the international community against Israel.”
Woodcock says he wants Israel defeated and replaced with a Palestinian state, and he doesn’t insist the vast majority of Jews be automatically allowed to remain. He says Palestinians should get to decide. His definition of “antizionist legal scholars” includes that they oppose “any right of self-determination for Jewish people as such in Palestine.” He does say that “the tiny minority of Jewish people whose ancestors lived in Palestine immediately prior to the arrival of the first Zionist colonizers in Palestine in 1882 … share in the right of Palestinians to self determination.”
“Palestinian people alone should decide how Palestine should be governed after independence, including the legal status of the colonizer population,” he says.
The Kentucky Jewish Council and State Sen. Lindsey Tichenor, a co-chair of the state General Assembly’s Kentucky-Israel Caucus, praised the decision to remove Woodcock from the classroom. In a statement, Tichenor wrote that the “reports coming out of our taxpayer-funded flagship university are incredibly disturbing. A law professor calling for the destruction of Israel and against the right for the Jewish people to have self-determination is not a policy disagreement, but a call to violence.”
“That is not academic discourse. It’s antisemitism and racism and abuse of his power, plain and simple,” Tichenor wrote. She thanked Capilouto “for his strong and unequivocal condemnation of this hateful message” and for reinforcing “the importance of moral clarity and swift institutional accountability.”
But Capilouto’s message also hinted at the academic freedom concerns at play. He wrote that the situation “compels us to address questions other campuses are grappling with as well—chiefly, where and when does conduct and the freedom to express views in a community compromise the safety and well-being of people in that community?”
In a statement to Inside Higher Ed, Connor Murnane, the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression’s campus advocacy chief of staff, said, “FIRE is actively investigating this case, and we’re concerned that Professor Woodcock may have been punished for protected activities.”
Jennifer Cramer, president of UK’s American Association of University Professors chapter, said that “assuming he did not pose a threat in any meaningful way to our campus, I think that the treatment of this case seems outside of the bounds of the norm.” She said that “whether we agree with what he says or not shouldn’t matter, because that’s the point of academic freedom.”
Woodcock hasn’t stopped calling for war on Israel, posting on X, “Zionists are frustrated that their intimidation campaign hasn’t shut me up.”
I recently found myself staring at my computer screen, overwhelmed by the sheer pace of AI developments flooding my inbox. Contending with the flow of new tools, updated models and breakthrough announcements felt like trying to drink from a fire hose. As someone who coaches graduate students navigating their academic and professional journeys, I realized I was experiencing the same anxiety many of my students express: How do we keep up with something that’s evolving faster than we can learn?
But here’s what I’ve come to understand through my own experimentation and reflection: The question isn’t whether we can keep up, but whether we can afford not to engage. As graduate students, you’re training to become the critical thinkers, researchers and leaders our world desperately needs. If you step back from advances in AI, you’re not just missing professional opportunities; you’re abdicating your responsibility to help shape how these powerful tools impact society.
The Stakes Are Higher Than You Think
The rapid advancement of artificial intelligence isn’t just a tech trend but a fundamental shift that will reshape every field, from humanities research to scientific discovery. As graduate students, you have a unique opportunity and responsibility. You’re positioned at the intersection of deep subject matter expertise and flexible thinking. You can approach AI tools with both the technical sophistication to use them effectively and the critical perspective to identify their limitations and potential harms.
When I reflect on my own journey with AI tools, I’m reminded of my early days learning to navigate complex organizational systems. Just as I had to develop strategic thinking skills to thrive in bureaucratic environments, we now need to develop AI literacy to thrive in an AI-augmented world. The difference is the timeline: We don’t have years to adapt gradually. We have months, maybe weeks, before these tools become so embedded in professional workflows that not knowing how to use them thoughtfully becomes a significant disadvantage.
My Personal AI Tool Kit: Tools Worth Exploring
Rather than feeling paralyzed by the abundance of options, I’ve taken a systematic approach to exploring AI tools. I chose the tools in my current tool kit not because they’re perfect, but because they represent different ways AI can enhance rather than replace human thinking.
Large Language Models: Beyond ChatGPT
Yes, ChatGPT was the breakthrough that captured everyone’s attention, but limiting yourself to one LLM is like using only one search engine. I regularly experiment with Claude for its nuanced reasoning capabilities, Gemini for its integration with Google’s ecosystem and DeepSeek for being an open-source model. Each has distinct strengths, and understanding these differences helps me choose the right tool for specific tasks.
The key insight I’ve gained is that these aren’t just fancy search engines or writing assistants. They’re thinking partners that can help you explore ideas, challenge assumptions and approach problems from multiple angles, if you know how to prompt them effectively.
Executive Function Support: Goblin Tools
One discovery that surprised me was Goblin Tools, an AI-powered suite of tools designed to support executive function. As someone who juggles multiple projects and deadlines and is navigating an invisible disability, I’ve found the task breakdown and time estimation features invaluable. For graduate students managing research, coursework and teaching responsibilities, tools like this can provide scaffolding for the cognitive load that often overwhelms even the most organized among us.
Research Acceleration: Elicit and Consensus
Perhaps the most transformative tools in my workflow are Elicit and Consensus. These platforms don’t just help you find research papers, but also help you understand research landscapes, identify gaps in literature and synthesize findings across multiple studies.
What excites me most about these tools is how they augment rather than replace critical thinking. They can surface connections you might miss and highlight contradictions in the literature, but you still need the domain expertise to evaluate the quality of sources and the analytical skills to synthesize findings meaningfully.
Real-Time Research: Perplexity
Another tool that has become indispensable in my research workflow is Perplexity. What sets Perplexity apart is its ability to provide real-time, cited responses by searching the internet and academic sources simultaneously. I’ve found this particularly valuable for staying current with rapidly evolving research areas and for fact-checking information. When I’m exploring a new topic or need to verify recent developments in a field, Perplexity serves as an intelligent research assistant that not only finds relevant information but also helps me understand how different sources relate to each other. The key is using it as a starting point for deeper investigation, not as the final word on any topic.
Visual Communication: Beautiful.ai, Gamma and Napkin
Presentation and visual communication tools represent another frontier where AI is making significant impact. Beautiful.ai and Gamma can transform rough ideas into polished presentations, while Napkin excels at creating diagrams and visual representations of complex concepts.
I’ve found these tools particularly valuable not just for final presentations, but for thinking through ideas visually during the research process. Sometimes seeing your argument laid out in a diagram reveals logical gaps that weren’t apparent in text form.
Staying Informed: The Pivot 5 Newsletter
With so much happening so quickly, staying informed without becoming overwhelmed is crucial. I subscribe to the Pivot 5 newsletter, which provides curated insights into AI developments without the breathless hype that characterizes much AI coverage. Finding reliable, thoughtful sources for AI news is as important as learning to use the tools themselves.
Beyond the Chat Bots: Developing Critical AI Literacy
Here’s where I want to challenge you to think more deeply. Most discussions about AI in academia focus on policies about chat bot use in assignments—important, but insufficient. The real opportunity lies in developing what I call critical AI literacy: understanding not just how to use these tools, but when to use them, how to evaluate their outputs and how to maintain your own analytical capabilities.
This means approaching AI tools with the same rigor you’d apply to any research methodology. What are the assumptions built into these systems? What biases might they perpetuate? How do you verify AI-generated insights? These aren’t just philosophical questions; they’re practical skills that will differentiate thoughtful AI users from passive consumers.
A Strategic Approach to AI Engagement
Drawing from the strategic thinking framework I’ve advocated for in the past, here’s how I suggest you approach AI engagement:
Start with purpose: Before adopting any AI tool, clearly identify what problem you’re trying to solve. Are you looking to accelerate research, improve writing, manage complex projects or enhance presentations? Different tools serve different purposes.
Experiment systematically: Don’t try to learn everything at once. Choose one or two tools that align with your immediate needs and spend time understanding their capabilities and limitations before moving on to others.
Maintain critical distance: Use these tools as thinking partners, not thinking replacements. Always maintain the ability to evaluate and verify AI outputs against your own expertise and judgment.
Share and learn: Engage with peers about your experiences. What works? What doesn’t? What ethical considerations have you encountered? This collective learning is crucial for developing best practices.
The Cost of Standing Still
I want to be clear about what’s at stake. This isn’t about keeping up with the latest tech trends or optimizing productivity, even though those are benefits. It’s about ensuring that the most important conversations about AI’s role in society include the voices of critically trained, ethically minded scholars.
If graduate students, future professors, researchers, policymakers and industry leaders retreat from AI engagement, we leave these powerful tools to be shaped entirely by technologists and venture capitalists. The nuanced understanding of human behavior, ethical frameworks and social systems that you’re developing in your graduate programs is exactly what’s needed to guide AI development responsibly.
The pace of change isn’t slowing down. In fact, it’s accelerating. But that’s precisely why your engagement matters more, not less. The world needs people who can think critically about these tools, who understand both their potential and their perils, and who can help ensure they’re developed and deployed in ways that benefit rather than harm society.
Moving Forward With Intention
As you consider how to engage with AI tools, remember that this isn’t about becoming a tech expert overnight. It’s about maintaining the curiosity and critical thinking that brought you to graduate school in the first place. Start small, experiment thoughtfully and always keep your analytical mind engaged.
The future we’re building with AI won’t be determined by the tools themselves, but by the people who choose to engage with them thoughtfully and critically. As graduate students, you have the opportunity—and, I’d argue, the responsibility—to be part of that conversation.
The question isn’t whether AI will transform your field. It’s whether you’ll help shape that transformation or let it happen to you. The choice, as always, is yours to make.
Dinuka Gunaratne (he/him) has worked across several postsecondary institutions in Canada and the U.S. and is a member of several organizational boards, including Co-operative Education and Work-Integrated Learning Canada, CERIC—Advancing Career Development in Canada, and the leadership team of the Administrators in Graduate and Professional Student Services knowledge community with NASPA: Student Affairs Administrators in Higher Education.
Howard University students have taken to social media to crowdsource funds after some found out they owe thousands of dollars to the institution following its transition to a new student financial platform, NBC News reported.
The social media campaigns began after about 1,000 students received notice that the university put their accounts on hold because of unpaid balances. Some students received emails on June 4 saying that if the balances weren’t paid off by the end of the month, their bills would be sent to an external collections agency, according to The Root. Students in “pre-collection” have until the end of August to pay their bills. As long as a hold remains on their account, they can’t register for classes or student housing.
Half of the cases have been resolved, according to a statement from Howard on Friday.
“We are taking active steps to assist students experiencing challenges related to financial aid and account balances,” the statement read. “The University reaffirms its unwavering commitment to student success and to helping ensure that students are financially equipped to begin the academic year.”
Howard officials also promised to offer virtual and in-person office hours, financial counseling, flexible payment plans, and, when possible, emergency support to affected students.
On social media, students said they were blindsided by the news of how much they owed.
“Myself included, many of us that have these balances on our account were not notified prior … which is why we’re struggling to pay them, because we had no idea,” said sophomore Makiah Goodman in one of multiple TikTok videos she made about the issue. She also said she discovered that a scholarship she earned couldn’t be applied to her debt. In another video, she noted that transferring out of Howard is “on the table” if she can’t pay.
Alissa Jones, also a student, told NBC4 she was a few classes short of graduating when she found out she owed more than $57,000, despite only paying $15,000 per year for the last four years because of scholarship money.
“Right now, it says I owe $57,540-something, like, I owe the whole thing,” Jones said. “If you have any type of hold, you cannot register for class, but with these, obsessive amounts of money that they’re saying we owe, it’s almost like, that’s not one semester’s worth of tuition, at all.”
The breakdown in communication seems to have come as Howard transitioned from its old student financial platform, BisonWeb, to a new version, BisonHub. During the process, some student account updates were delayed between January and June of this year, according to Howard’s statement on Friday. (An earlier update from the university said between May and June.)
Howard officials wrote in the statement that students were informed last October and November that their data would be transferred over to the new platform and that could come with “potential impacts.”
Protests and Fundraisers
A group of students has since launched a protest via an Instagram account called @whosehowardisit.
The group came out with a set of demands, including an immediate in-person meeting with the Board of Trustees, more investment in financial aid and scholarships, and the resignations of some Howard administrators. They also called for student representatives to be added to hiring committees for various administrative positions going forward, particularly directors of student-facing departments. The group provided email templates for students, parents and other stakeholders to amplify their discontent.
“For too long, students have raised concerns about communication failures, inaccessible leadership, and a lack of transparency around critical issues,” the group wrote in a “Get Involved Guide” shared on social media. “This movement is bigger than past due balances; it’s about how Howard University’s actions, or lack thereof, mirror the patterns of white supremacy, classism, and exclusion that oppress lower-income Black and brown students.”
In their recent statement, Howard officials acknowledged students’ outspokenness about the issue.
“While we are addressing the challenges related to the timing of the transition of students’ account data, we are also seeing an increase in the number of students who are publicly expressing frustration and concerns over rising financial pressures and the ability to continue their education,” they said, noting that Howard disproportionately serves low-income students.
They added, “Recent federal cuts to research grants, education programs, and fellowships have compounded financial pressures on both students and faculty.”
Students also shared to the @whosehowardisit Instagram account a central hub for the GoFundMe campaigns. Currently, about 70 students’ crowdsourcing campaigns are listed. (The site notes that the campaigns haven’t been “personally verified.”) Run by broadcast journalism student Ssanyu Lukoma, the site also features a GoFundMe submission form and a directory for possible scholarships and other financial resources.
Some of the fundraising efforts have already paid off. Goodman’s GoFundMe campaign, for example, has so far raised more than $4,000 toward her $6,000 goal. Another campaign for Brandon Hawkins, a rising sophomore, hit $13,000, which is approaching his goal of $16,000. He said in a July 23 update that he’s now met his outstanding balance to Howard and any additional funds will go toward his tuition next year.
“I hold a very personal and powerful mission: to be the first Black man in my family to graduate from college and create a new legacy for future generations,” Hawkins wrote on his GoFundMe page. “However, despite my academic achievements and unwavering passion, I face serious financial barriers that are threatening my ability to return to Howard and continue pursuing my degree.”
While institutions of higher education have in recent months been incessantly targeted from without, it is also important for universities’ long-term health that we consider what has been going on within them. Often, the national conversation disproportionately focuses on Ivy League institutions—what one famous professor recently referred to as “Harvard Derangement Syndrome”—but if we want to understand what the vast majority of American college students experience, we must look at the regional public universities (RPUs) that are “the workhorses of public higher education.”
According to the American Association of State Colleges and Universities, roughly 70 percent of all U.S. undergraduates enrolled at public four-year institutions attend RPUs. Yet declining enrollments and years of austerity measures have left these workhorse universities particularly vulnerable. Writing about the difficult financial decisions many of these campuses have already made, Lee Gardner warns that “if many regional colleges cut at this point, they risk becoming very different institutions.”
But those who work at regional public universities will tell you that they are already very different institutions. Rarely, however, have these transformations been the subject or result of open campus discussion and debate. Often, they are not even publicly declared by the administrations spearheading these shifts, though it’s not always clear if that is by design or because administrators are unclear about their own priorities. An unsettling likelihood is that we no longer know what these workhorse universities should be working toward.
My own regional college is part of the State University of New York system, which, as political scientist and SUNY Cortland professor Henry Steck argues, has always struggled to define its mission and purpose. “From its earliest days,” writes Steck, “SUNY’s history has been characterized not simply by the recurrent challenges of growth and financing, but by a more profound disagreement over what higher education means to New Yorkers.”
As a result, the SUNY system “has yet to discover or resolve its full identity,” which, today, is torn between three “disparate visions” that emerged in the latter half of the 20th century: the civic-minded vision of 1950s university leader Thomas Hamilton, who emphasized the cultivation of intellectual, scientific and artistic excellence through broadly accessible liberal learning; a utilitarian vision that, beginning in the 1980s, stressed the economic importance of graduate research and professional education; and the neoliberal ethos of a 1995 trustees’ report entitled “Rethinking SUNY” that encouraged both greater efficiency and more campus autonomy to boost competition between institutions in the system.
One can perceive all three visions overlapping in complex ways in my own campus’s mission statement, which emphasizes “outstanding liberal arts and pre-professional programs” designed to prepare students “for their professional and civic futures.” But day-to-day realities reveal a notable imbalance among those aims. Recent years have seen a substantial scaling back of liberal arts programs, particularly in the humanities. In 2022, our philosophy major was deactivated despite overwhelming opposition from the Faculty Senate.
In 2020, my own department (English) had 14 full-time faculty; this coming fall, it will have just six. Meanwhile, there has been an ever-increasing emphasis on pre-professional majors and a borderline obsession with microcredentials, allegedly designed to excite future employers. Lip service is still paid, on occasion, to the importance of the liberal arts, particularly in recent months as federal overreach has prompted colleges to reaffirm the responsibility they have, as my own president put it in a campuswide email, “to prepare students for meaningful lives as engaged citizens.” But without robustly supported humanistic disciplines—and especially without a philosophy department—how are we to teach students what a “meaningful life” is or what engaged citizenship in a democratic culture truly entails?
To state the problem more openly in the language of business so familiar to college administrators: It’s not just that we do not have a coherent and compelling vision; it’s that we have no idea what our product is anymore. On my own campus, administrators tend to think the issue is simply a marketing problem. It is our task as a department, we are told, to spread the word about the English major and recruit new students. In many ways, this is right: Universities and the disciplines that constitute them have not been great at telling their story or communicating their value to the public or even to the students on their campuses.
But the issue goes much deeper. “Remarkable marketing,” writes marketing expert Seth Godin, “is the art of building things worth noticing right into your product or service. Not slapping on marketing as a last-minute add-on, but understanding that if your offering itself isn’t remarkable, it’s invisible.” Godin calls these remarkable products “purple cows” (which are clearly unlike other cows).
Yet to the extent that conversations on my campus have been oriented toward a product at all, it rarely concerns the nuts-and-bolts dynamic of liberal learning that happens in the humanities classroom—that is, the rigorous intellectual journey faculty should be leading students on, taking them outside themselves (and their comfort zones) and into the broader world of ideas, histories and frameworks for making sense of human experience. Instead, the focus has shifted, not simply to inculcating skills, but more significantly to the immense institutional apparatus comprised of therapists, advisers, technology specialists and other paraprofessional support systems.
Put another way, because there seems to be massive uncertainty about the nature of the higher education classroom, what we end up marketing to prospective students and their parents, wittingly or unwittingly, is an array of services for “managing” the classroom and helping students transact the business of completing a degree or assembling one’s microcredentials on the way to employment.
The result is a highly technocratic conception of the university and a fiercely transactional notion of higher education that flattens virtually everyone’s sense of what should transpire in the college classroom and which redistributes professional authority away from faculty and toward various administrators and academic support personnel—a shift that Benjamin Ginsberg has astutely documented.
Faculty, meanwhile, are constantly implored, often by academic support staff who have never taught a class, to “innovate” in their methods and materials, “as though,” retorts Gayle Green, “we weren’t ‘innovating’ all the time, trying new angles, testing what works, seeing if we can make it better, always starting over, every day, a whole new show.” It’s a world of learning management systems (aptly titled to emphasize “management”), learning centers (as if the classroom were a peripheral element of college life), “student success” dashboards, degree-tracking software and what Jerry Z. Muller calls a “tyrannical” preoccupation with data and metrics, which serve as the simplified benchmarks through which educational progress and value are measured.
And while, as Greene’s book highlights, this approach to higher education has permeated every university to some extent, what is unique to my campus—and, I suspect, to other cash-strapped RPUs fighting to stay relevant and competitive—is the fervent extent to which we have embraced this technocratic approach and allowed it to dominate our sense of purpose.
To be clear, I am in no way opposed to robustly supporting student success in the multitudinous ways a university must these days. I routinely invite learning center specialists into my classrooms, I refer students to the advising or counseling centers, and I have worked with our accessibility office to ensure my supplementary course materials meet all students’ needs. What concerns me is the lack of substantive, broad-ranging discussion about what terms like “student success” or “student-centered education” even mean, and the dearth of guidance from administrators about how the various campus constituencies should work together to achieve them. That guidance would require a much clearer and more well-communicated vision of what our ultimate purpose—and product—is.
As much as I admire Godin’s mindful emphasis on “building things worth noticing right into your product or service,” I wonder if some core element of the liberal learning that resides at the heart of higher education is a product that can’t be endlessly innovated. What if higher education is a product similar to, say, the process of drawing heat or energy from a natural resource such as firewood or sunlight? Yes, we can refine these processes to a great extent by building energy-efficient woodstoves to capture more heat from each log or solar panels and storage devices to wrest more energy from every beam of light. But eventually there will be diminishing returns for our efforts, and some so-called improvements may simply be cosmetic changes that really have nothing to do with—or may even detract from—the process of heat or energy extraction, which, at its foundation, simply entails intimate contact with these distinctly unchanging natural elements.
Etymologically, this is precisely what “education” means—to educe or draw forth something hidden or latent. And as silly as the above analogy may sound, it is precisely the metaphor that philosophers and writers have used since the classical era to conceptualize the very nature of education. In The Republic, Plato likens “the natural power to learn” to the process of “turning the soul” away from reflections projected on a cave wall (mere representations of reality) and leading oneself out from the cave and into the sunlight of truth.
Closer to our own time and place, Ralph Waldo Emerson professed in “The American Scholar” that colleges “can only highly serve us, when they aim not to drill, but to create; when they gather from far every ray of various genius to their hospitable halls, and, by the concentrated fires, set the hearts of their youth on flame.”
“Forget this,” he warned, “and our American colleges will recede in their public importance, whilst they grow richer every year.”
But it was W. E. B. Du Bois who, arguing for racial equality roughly six decades later, brought these ideas together in one of their most radical forms, forever giving all American universities something to aspire to. In The Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois, drawing on the education-as-heat-extraction metaphor to evoke the immense powers of learning, posited that “to stimulate wildly weak and untrained minds is to play with mighty fires.” And his paean to the college classroom is remarkable for its emphasis on the university’s spartan but enduring methods:
“In a half-dozen class-rooms they gather then … Nothing new, no time-saving devices,—simply old time-glorified methods of delving for Truth, and searching out the hidden beauties of life, and learning the good of living … The riddle of existence is the college curriculum that was laid before the Pharaohs, that was taught in the groves by Plato, that formed the trivium and quadrivium, and is today laid before the freedmen’s sons by Atlanta University. And this course of study will not change; its methods will grow more deft and effectual, its content richer by toil of scholar and sight of seer; but the true college will ever have one goal,—not to earn meat, but to know the end and aim of that life which meat nourishes.”
This is a vision of education almost perfectly designed to baffle today’s educational reformers or RPU administrators, not simply for its attitude toward innovative “time-saving devices,” but for the fact that Du Bois was advocating this approach—one more akin to those found at wealthy liberal arts schools these days—for Black individuals in the Jim Crow South in contrast to the more trade-focused vision of his contemporary, Booker T. Washington.
Washington’s vision has clearly triumphed in RPUs, where the humanistic learning that Du Bois writes so passionately about has been dying out and, in the years ahead, will likely be relegated to the spiritless distributional requirements of the general education curriculum. As Eric Adler has admirably written, such an approach further shifts responsibility for meaningful curricula away from faculty judgment and toward student fancy and choice.
So, too, does it marginalize—that is, reduce to a check-box icon in a degree-tracking tool—the emphasis on “soul-crafting” that takes place, as Du Bois well knew, when students persistently grapple with life’s biggest questions. “By denying to all but privileged undergraduates the opportunity to shape their souls,” Adler argues, “vocationalists implicitly broadcast their elitism.”
That very elitism was broadcast at my own university when an administrator suggested in a conversation with me that our students often work full-time and thus are not as focused on exploring big questions or reading difficult texts. When I pushed back, asserting that my classroom experience had demonstrated that our students were indeed hungry to read the serious literary and philosophical texts that can help them explore questions of meaning and value, the administrator immediately apologized for being presumptuous. Nevertheless, the elitism was broadcast.
If RPUs are serious about the civic ideals they have once again begun to champion in response to potential government overreach, then they need to re-evaluate the overall educational product they are offering and redirect autonomy and respect back toward the faculty—particularly the humanistic faculty—who are best poised to educate students in the kinds of “soul-crafting” that are essential to a well-lived life in a thriving democratic society.
There have been many calls to revive civics education in the United States, but no civics education will be complete without cultivating the broader humanistic knowledge and imaginative capabilities that are essential to daily life in a liberal democracy. Literature, philosophy, history, art—all are vital for helping us understand not only ourselves but also the ideas, beliefs and experiences of other individuals with whom we must share a political world and with whom we often disagree. Such an endeavor may seem rather basic and perhaps old-fashioned. But anyone who has taught at the college level knows it is an immensely complex undertaking. It is already a purple cow.
Scott M. Reznick is an assistant professor of English at the State University of New York at Plattsburgh, where he has taught for the past five years, and associate professor of literature at the University of Austin, where he will begin teaching this fall. He is the author of Political Liberalism and the Rise of American Romanticism (Oxford, 2024).