In their examination of ten trends that will shape the future of the campus university, Edward Peck, Ben McCarthy and Jenny Shaw set out a compelling account of the factors that will shape English higher education. As a result of these factors, they argue that, in the future, ‘Academic awards will focus as much on the development of employment and generic skills as the acquisition and retention of specific knowledge’. Given that it is co-authored by a long-standing vice chancellor, who will shortly take on the role of the Chair of the higher education regulator, this can be read as an urgent call for higher education to be clear about how it produces graduates who will make important contributions to society.
While I agree that higher education needs to be open to discussing the value of its education for graduates and society, I do not think a convincing case can be made by focusing on the distinction between generic skills and specific knowledge. Instead, my argument is that higher education needs to develop a much better account of how the knowledge that students engage with through their degrees prepares them to make important contributions to society. There are four elements to this.
First, the development of generic skills and the acquisition of specific knowledge are not alternative educational objectives for degree programmes. Rather, they are different elements of a rich educational environment. More fundamentally, the educational power of higher education does not lie in either of these options. What is educationally powerful about higher education is the way in which it offers students access to structured bodies of knowledge. Seeing these bodies of knowledge from the inside gives students and graduates the opportunity to view themselves and the world differently. It is the structure of these bodies of knowledge that allows students and graduates to develop ways of engaging with the world that make use of this knowledge and related skills in a diverse range of contexts. Generic skills and specific knowledge are generated as part of this engagement with structured bodies of knowledge, but they are not where the educational treasure of higher education lies. Indeed, our seven-year international longitudinal study of those who studied degrees in Chemistry and in Chemical Engineering found that those who focused on specific knowledge rather than the ways of engaging with the world they gained from their degrees tended to benefit less from their education.
Second, showing that higher education is about gaining access to structured bodies of knowledge explains why it requires programmatic study over the three or four years of a degree. If it were simply about generic skills or specific knowledge, then there would be no need for the systematic and sustained engagement that we currently demand of students. Presenting higher education as about generic skills or specific knowledge risks it appearing very obvious that demanding several years of sustained study is an unnecessary and expensive luxury. It is only by showing the importance of students’ gaining access of bodies of knowledge that we can explain why alternative forms of higher education that are already boxing higher education in, such as micro-credentials, are not up to the job of supporting students to see these bodies of knowledge from the inside and engaging with the world from the perspective of this knowledge.
Third, understanding the importance of the structured nature of this knowledge helps to highlight the importance of producing graduates from a rich diversity of disciplinary, interdisciplinary and professional subjects, who engage with the world in different ways. Addressing the challenges facing the world will require drawing on the diversity of these perspectives which cannot be gained through being taught generic skills or unconnected stores of specific knowledge.
Fourth, ensuring that higher education maintains its focus on structured bodies of knowledge is key to challenging educational inequalities. Otherwise, it is entirely predictable that the education offered by ‘elite’ institutions will remain focused on structured bodies of knowledge while ‘mass’ higher education shifts to focus on generic skills. Given that those with the greatest resources are most likely to access elite higher education, the poor will be left with an education that leaves them rooted in the contexts in which they have developed their generic skills whereas the privileged will benefit from the ways in which structured bodies of knowledge support them to move between contexts.
The great higher education advocate David Watson urged universities and academics to ‘guard your treasure’. The treasure of higher education is the collective structured bodies of knowledge that we are stewards of for society. Our role is to support society and students to understand the power of this knowledge and what it can do in the world. In response to the important questions raised by Edward Peck, Ben McCarthy and Jenny Shaw, we need to develop much more compelling accounts of how access to these structured bodies of knowledge provides an education that is qualitatively different from an education focused on developing generic skills and specific knowledge. We need to show how this qualitative difference is crucial in offering a relevant education that has the potential to change students and society. If we fail to do this, then we are in great danger of throwing away our greatest treasure.
Let me tell you something no one wants to admit: content is boring.
There. I said it.
It’s not that the ideas themselves aren’t important—it’s that we’ve turned teaching into a conveyor belt of information. Slide decks. Learning objectives. Case summaries. I did it for years, starting every session with the clean, structured logic of “what we’re going to cover today.” And every time, I could feel it: the emotional temperature of the room dropping by a degree with each bullet point.
Then one day, I threw it all out. I walked into my classroom and started with a question I didn’t know the answer to.
“Why do organizations love change, but hate their changemakers?”
The room blinked back at me. One student tilted their head. Another smiled. Someone raised an eyebrow. Then: silence.
And in that silence?
Engagement.
The Paradox Effect
That one question—unresolved, unanswerable, alive—did more to wake up my students than any HBR case ever had.
It turns out, paradoxes are rocket fuel for learning. They don’t just activate the intellect—they ignite curiosity. They create a space where both students and teachers can explore, not just explain. In The Art of Change, I call this the Paradoxical Mindset Cycle—an approach that doesn’t resolve contradiction, but uses it as an engine for insight.
Since then, I’ve started every class not with content, but with creative tension.
What I Do Now (and What I Don’t)
Let me make it clear—I still teach frameworks. I still assign readings. But I don’t start there anymore. I start here:
Step 1: Open with a real-word paradox
Something messy. Something provocative. Something I’m still trying to figure out myself. Examples I’ve used:
“Why do purpose-driven companies become bureaucracy-driven over time?”
“Why does the most insightful person in the room often go unheard?”
“Why do so many change initiatives begin with restructuring, even though we know it rarely works?”
The key? I never position the question as rhetorical. I treat it as alive.
Because it is.
Step 2: Set a timer and go dark
I put students in pairs and give them five minutes. No note-taking. No Googling. Just dialogue. It feels more like a café than a classroom. And something remarkable happens: they stop performing and start reflecting.
Step 3: We build a paradox map
Each group shares both sides of the paradox: Why we crave change. Why we kill it. I scribble the responses on the board—no sorting, no filtering. It looks chaotic. It’s supposed to.
Then I ask: “Where does this show up in your own experience?”
And that’s when it gets real. One student shares how their great idea for a campus project got stuck in endless approvals. Another talks about how their student club started strong but lost its energy as it grew.
Suddenly the paradox isn’t academic—it’s personal.
Step 4: Now we bring in the tools
Only after we’ve felt the tension do I introduce the day’s reading, model, or theory. It’s not the main event—it’s a flashlight. A way to examine the paradox from a new angle.
Frameworks become lenses, not gospels.
Step 5: End unresolved
I used to close class with “key takeaways.” Now, I end with a twist. I return to the paradox and ask: “What questions are you leaving with?”
This shift—from resolution to reflection—keeps the learning alive after the session ends.
Here’s What Happened
1. Students leaned in, not back
When we start with answers, students tune out. When we start with paradoxes, they lean in. They stop thinking, What does the professor want? and start wondering, What do I think?
2. The quiet voices spoke first
Here’s the weird part: when I started with content, only the confident students talked. But when I started with tension, the quieter students jumped in—maybe because no one had the answer yet, so there was no hierarchy of certainty.
3. I stopped pretending to know everything
This was harder than I expected. I’m a professor—I like having answers. But paradoxes humbled me. They reminded me that real learning is co-created. I had to model curiosity, not certainty. Vulnerability became my pedagogy.
What Surprised Me
Here’s the counterintuitive part: less structure created more rigor.
We didn’t just cover content—we interrogated it. Students asked sharper questions. They challenged assumptions. They made the frameworks work for them, not the other way around.
One of my BBAs said it best: “You didn’t just teach me models. You taught me how to think about things that don’t have easy answers.”
Isn’t that the point?
What Didn’t Work (and Why)
Let’s be real—this approach has a learning curve. Here’s what I learned the hard way:
Bad paradox = bad discussion
If the question is too vague or too clever, students freeze. The best paradoxes are rooted in lived tension, not philosophical abstraction.
You still need scaffolding
Don’t confuse openness with chaos. I learned to provide anchor points—definitions, boundaries, reflection prompts—so students don’t drift.
Sometimes they want the damn answer
And that’s okay. After exploring the paradox, I now say, “Here’s one way to look at it.” That shift—one way—keeps the door open.
Try This in Your Class Tomorrow
If you want to test this out without overhauling your syllabus, here’s a quick plug-and-play format:
Choose a paradox related to your next topic. Make it messy.
Write it on the board as the only thing visible when students walk in.
Have students pair up and discuss both sides for five minutes.
Map responses publicly—no editing.
Introduce the content as a way to explore the tension, not solve it.
End with a return question: “What’s still unresolved?”
Some of My Favorite Classroom Paradoxes
Themes
Paradoxes
Innovation
Why do we ask for disruption—but build systems to resist it?
Leadership
Why does empowering people sometimes make them feel abandoned?
Teams
Why do diverse teams perform better—and struggle more?
Ethics
Why do people follow rules that conflict with their values?
Strategy
Why does clear direction often limit flexibility?
Why This Matters (Now More Than Ever)
We live in an era defined by contradiction. Our students don’t need tidy formulas—they need tools to think through tension. That’s what the paradox-first approach cultivates. It’s not just pedagogy—it’s preparation for a world that’s never either/or.
I’ve found that the classroom is the perfect place to start. Not by offering answers—but by daring to ask the better questions.
It’s Not a Trick Question
When I walk into class now, I don’t open with a takeaway—I open with a paradox. I don’t know how it’ll go. That’s the point.
Because the moment we stop starting with certainty is the moment students start showing up with possibility.
Jeff DeGraff is Clinical Professor of Management and Organizations at the Ross School of Business, University of Michigan, and co-author of The Art of Change: Transforming Paradoxes into Breakthroughs.
University governance is not broken – but it does need to change.
There are places where governance is not working very well. There are places where it is working exceptionally well. And in most cases the governance system works in the same way it always has but with a different and deeper set of issues.
It may be that the resilience of “business as usual” is not a sign of stability – but a sign of a wider dysfunction.
University governance is built with committees, a senate (usually), and a council. Information can flow up and down the chain with no more urgency than a stream trickling down a hill. The idea of a university being a deliberate (or slow) decision maker is not a design fault – but the entire purpose of the system.
The challenge is that the moment we are working in is highly unpredictable. This means that the slowness inherent in the governance of universities is a barrier to making timely decisions. In turn, the lack of speed kills. If universities cannot make decisions quickly then they will be forever fighting yesterday’s battles as even bigger challenges come over the horizon.
It is true that university governance can be slow. It is also the case that governance is no more than the collective will of people, accepted practice, navigating within a system which is continually changing because of the people and practices within it.
It is not that governance is fundamentally broken – but that in places, it has not caught up with the world we are in or the issues we are dealing with. The institutional governance memory has largely been about growth, and now it is about changing shape, and in some cases contraction.
And it is struggling to catch up for three main reasons. Intra-organisational dynamics, regulatory pressure, and a lack of experience and guidance in responding to this particular crisis.
People
The relationship between the vice chancellor and the chair of council is a critical one and one that can make or break the quality of governance. Usually, not a policy is passed, a major programme commenced, or in the most detail orientated a contract signed, without the permission of one of these two people.
That critical relationship cannot be to act, consciously or otherwise, as gatekeepers – and instead needs to work to sharpen the focus of the wider discussion and decision making on the art of the possible in responding to the greatest aspirations and the most sizable threats.
Sometimes the funnel of chair and vice chancellor contracts the necessary information, context and ambition rather than flipping the funnel around to allow a wider and richer understanding of the specific problem and the potential answers to it.
A trend across the sector is that the strain placed on organisations is placing significant pressure on this relationship. Sometimes this pressure is forcing the chair and vice chancellor ever closer together and making them engage like never before. On the other hand, this pressure can spill into real disagreements and arguments.
Neither excessive closeness nor distance is helpful for good decision making. One allows governance by relationship above process which can lead to decisions being too narrow or having considered too few sides. The distance makes issues fraught and honest conversations difficult.
The role of the registrar has never been more crucial in this dynamic. They are the third leg of the stool that can facilitate private conversation but crucially, particularly now, can turn debates into issues that can be fed into the university governance system with a structure and purpose that reaches beyond the vice chancellor and chair in isolation. The registrar, or equivalent, is too often perceived as clerking or secretariat – rather than a function and role that can influence culture.
The idea isn’t that governance should be conflict free, but that systems are robust enough to turn conflict into decision. In times like these strongly held disagreement is inevitable, sometimes it is even good as it shows things are being deeply felt, but governance cannot function where personal relationships dominate a governance system. The future is one which – as you might expect us to say – ever more deeply engages the registrar as the translator of discussion into decision.
Regulators and regulation
Governments and regulators have not been helpful in enabling the evolution needed in university governance. On the one hand, there is a reflexive defence to non-intervention because universities are autonomous institutions. And to be fair, when regulators and governments do something universities do not like it is also a defence they reach for. Autonomy is true at an institutional level but regulators seek to impede institutional autonomy all of the time through sector wide regulation.
Taking Covid as an example, the Office for Students introduced a range of temporary market stabilisation measures which covered, amongst a range of other matters, “matters that may affect or distort decision making by prospective or current students in respect of their choice of higher education provider or course.” It isn’t enormously helpful that the regulatory environment can sometimes feel like either no intervention or extreme intervention.
The space that is interesting is what does regulatory stewardship look like – neither the laissez faire of institutional failure nor the clunking foot of, well, boots on the ground.
The overriding temptation is to introduce more regulation in a period where the sector is struggling. The logic is that universities are exposed to greater risk and the way to protect students from risk is to build boundaries around what universities can and cannot do.
The problem is that universities do not have the resources to cope with any more regulatory burden. In fact, owing to the financial pressures they are under, universities have less resources than ever to deal with new regulatory burdens. This isn’t about the bonfire of the redtape, or a chainsaw as some world leaders prefer, but it is about an informed debate about how to sharpen the focus of an enormous regulatory burden.
Introducing new regulation increases the chances that universities will fall foul of new regulations but that hardly seems like the point. There should be as much energy in reducing red-tape as there is in creating it in order to give universities the space to breathe. The sector is having to reduce its size and it can’t function with a regulatory burden designed for a time when it was much bigger.
The effect of this would also be to free up the regulators time to focus on a narrower range of issues. The obvious rebuke is which things should any regulator spend less time on. The question, though helpful, misses the wider point that regulatory burden is created as much by approach as by the areas regulators choose to spend their time on. OfS Chief Executive Susan Lapworth made the case back in 2022:
Your autonomy shouldn’t be a theoretical idea that you mobilise defensively to ward off regulation. It should be a living, active practice that you use to make your own decisions with confidence. So I’m encouraging you to think about whether the idea of self-directed autonomy might be a useful way to think about how you respond to regulation.
Three years on, it’s fair to say that governing bodies often do not feel like they have sufficient insight into what the regulator believes to be the appropriate exercise of that autonomy. For example, it would be enormously useful for the OfS to provide an annual summary of the key issues they are dealing with – a bit like the OIA’s annual report on trends and outcomes.
Reducing regulation, revealing potholes, and more clearly differentiating between issues of governance and those of leadership will help. It is also important to be clear that at times the sector has been caught in a trap of doing the same activity and expecting different results.
Partners
Even in the most extreme circumstances the sector now finds itself in radical discussions couched in terms of partnerships with the people that the sector has always worked with. It might be that some of the answers to the current crisis are not within the sector.
There is an opportunity to explore partnerships with different kinds of public and private organisations. Traditionally, in universities, these have grown up within schools and faculties as research or teaching partnerships. It’s less frequent that senior leaders and their governing bodies seek out partnerships of mutual convenience to address a challenge.
Now would seem to be the time to look at whether there may be partnerships with private providers on pre-degree teaching, PBSAs on addressing housing shortages, local authorities on a place-based marketing campaign, the local chambers of commerce on brokering land assets, and so on.
Again, the challenge in realising this work is a governing one. Universities just have less muscle memory of trying to building these kinds of strategic partnerships – more imaginative partnerships require a different set of approaches.
The first is absolute clarity from governing bodies regarding the problems they are trying to solve – and the discipline to stay within those core priorities. It is not enough to say that the problem is cash shortage caused by recruitment challenges. The deeper question is which qualifications are recruited to, the types of programmes on offer, and how clearly the link between income and programmes can be defined. Only then is it possible to look at which partners might be worth working with.
The other challenge is that the regulatory environment is not always amenable to partnership. There is the issue of CMA compliance, where providers are reluctant to enter sensible conversations for fear of falling foul of regulations. A simple guide on the framework for who universities can work with in what circumstances would go far. Clearly, the current situation where the CMA is obligated to maintain the rules of a market which isn’t functioning properly is far from ideal.
Breaking not broken
People, regulation, and new partners are the three ingredients to move the university governance cycle on. It is easy to say universities need outside direction and internal commitment to meet the moment we’re in – but harder to pull off in practice.
What universities have in their favour is that they have structures and processes that have been tried and tested. Now is the moment to adapt them.
The sector’s financial challenges have shone a spotlight on governance effectiveness in higher education in England.
When the incoming government tasked the Office for Students (OfS) with directing more of its energy towards financial sustainability in the summer of 2024, it was only a matter of months before director of regulation Philippa Pickford put forward the view that the sector needed “a conversation” about governance, specifically about how robustly boards had tested some of the financial projections they had been prepared to sign off.
The government is clear that there needs to be a focus on and improvement in providers’ governance. Planning and strategy development within higher education providers, including financial planning, should be supported by the highest standards of governance to ensure realistic planning, robust challenge and the development of sustainable business models.
The sector has not been unresponsive to these cues – Advance HE in partnership with the wider sector is (taking the conversation metaphor literally) curating a “big conversation” about governance and the Committee of University Chairs (CUC) has pledged to review the higher education code of governance – which for a large number of institutions acts as a reference document for compliance with OfS’ conditions of registration on governance.
The implicit underpinning premise from OfS and DfE is fairly stark: the government is disavowing any responsibility it might have to come up with a financial settlement that would shore up higher education finances while retaining the current delivery model; nor is it especially keen to have to deal with institutional bailouts arising from institutional inability to manage the changed funding landscape. The strong signal is that it is up to higher education institutions to work out how to survive in this environment – and if boards are not up to the task of finding the answers then it’s the boards that need reforming.
Business acumen
I read this communication as part of a discursive stand off between government and the sector in which the lines between the role of government and role of individual institutions in securing the future of higher education is contested. Within that context, the validity of the implied criticism – that boards are insufficiently businesslike and strategic – needs to be interrogated.
There was a fascinating piece on The Critic last week by University of Buckingham academic Terence Kealey bemoaning the rise of the managerialist board. In Kealey’s analysis, when the balance of power in governance tilted towards the Senate – the governing body of academics – the institution thrived, as evidenced by strong performance in NSS and a financial surplus. But when the Council flexed its muscles, the university faltered, dropping in the league tables and spending more than it brought in.
Kealey’s core argument – that academics are best placed to steward the core higher education mission of excellent teaching and research – picks up a longer standing critique of higher education governance that perceives organisational strategic objectives as articulated by institutional boards and executive teams as frequently in opposition to the academic endeavour, being far too concerned with financial efficiency, performance management, reputation/league tables, and capturing market share. Echoes of aspects of this critique appear in the recent Council for the Defence of British Universities’ proposed code of ethical university governance, which urges boards to adhere to high standards of transparent, principled, and public-spirited conduct.
At the other end of the spectrum, the criticism of higher education governance – including sometimes from governors themselves – is that boards are insufficiently businesslike, fail to articulate long-term strategic objectives that will secure the institution’s sustainability, and have limited entrepreneurial spirit that would allow the institution to adapt to adverse headwinds. A more moderate version of this criticism argues that it is very difficult to convene the diverse skillset that could allow for effective board oversight of the wide range of activities that higher education institutions do.
Thinking about activities like academic and knowledge exchange partnerships, the creation of new campuses or the erection of new buildings, or civic and international engagement, all of these have the the academic endeavour at their core but are mostly about deploying the knowledge and reputational assets of the institution to generate additional value – and they each carry complicated associated legal and regulatory compliance expectations and reputational risk. It’s not clear that developing those strategies and managing those risks and expectations coheres well with academic professional practice – though some academics will obviously have a keen interest and want to develop knowledge in these areas.
The worst of both
There has always been an expectation that higher education institutions need to be simultaneously academically excellent and sufficiently business savvy to make sure the institution remains financially stable. Both academic and institutional governance can fail – the latter often more spectacularly and with greater reputational impact – but the impact of academic governance failure is arguably greater overall both on the long term health of the institution and on the lives of the staff and students affected.
So you could argue that it’s odd and/or problematic that the sector has witnessed the erosion of the power of senates and academic boards as part of a wider set of trends towards a more executive style of higher education leadership, the rise of metrics, league tables and more managerial approaches to institutional performance, the intensification of regulatory expectations, and the steady withdrawal of direct public funding from the sector. It’s telling that under the current regulatory regime in England institutional boards have had to master new expectations of oversight of academic quality, on the presumption that all institutional accountability should sit in one place, rather than being distributed – suggesting that quality is now seen as part of the wider business imperative rather than a counterweight to it.
But simply pivoting the balance of power back to senates and the academic community doesn’t necessarily address the problem. It’s possible, I suppose, to imagine a relatively benign or at least predictable funding and regulatory environment in which some of the pressing strategic questions about institutional size and shape, partnerships, or external engagement are answered or moot, and in which knowledge stewardship, academic excellence, and (one would hope) student learning experience are the primary purpose of higher education governance.
But even if that environment was plausible – I’m not sure it has ever existed – it doesn’t really address the more existential contemporary questions that governments and the public seem to be putting to higher education: how does the country see, and experience the value of all this knowledge stewardship and academic excellence? To realise that value and make it visible in more than an ad hoc way – to be institutionally accountable for the systematic manifestation of public value from academic knowledge – requires knowledge and professional practice beyond individual teaching and research excellence. And, more prosaically but equally importantly, buildings, infrastructure, and systems that create the environment for effective knowledge stewardship. Without a functioning institution there can be no knowledge stewardship.
There’s a reason, in other words, even if you strip out all the neoliberal value propositions from higher education governance, why higher education institutions need a “business” arm and associated governance structures. And that’s before you confront the actual reality of the current situation where the funding and regulatory environment is neither benign nor predictable – and the need for effective external relationship-building and systematic collaboration is greater than it has been in decades.
On the other hand, some of the business decisions that are made to secure financial sustainability or long term institutional success put the academic imperative at risk. Rapid growth in student numbers, redundancy programmes, departmental or services cuts or new strategic partnerships can compromise quality, as we have seen in a number of recent cases. There may be mitigations or the impact may be worth the reward, but there can be no meaningful strategic decision without being able to weigh up both.
Yet where we have ended up, I fear, is in the worst of both worlds – institutional boards that are neither sufficiently academically robust to have a grip of academic excellence nor sufficiently strategic and entrepreneurial to ensure institutions are able to thrive in the current higher education landscape. This is no shade to the immense talent and knowledge of the individuals who take up roles as higher education governors – it is a structural critique.
Creative tension
Where I end up is with the question – if there is really an inbuilt tension between the academic and business imperatives of higher education institutions, what would it look like for that tension to be a productive one in higher education governance rather than a source of toxicity?
I suspect – though I’ve not (yet) asked – many vice chancellors and their executive teams would argue that in their individual experience and team skillset they manifest both academic and business imperatives – that in fact, it is their job to reconcile these two aspects of institutional leadership in their daily practice, decisions, and communications.
Yet if that reconciliation of two competing imperatives is the job of leadership, arguably it’s not going all that well. While this experience is by no means universal, it’s clear that at times both academic and professional staff can feel sidelined and disempowered in the tug of war for day to day resource – but also at a deeper level for a recognition of their purpose and contribution to the higher education endeavour. Each can feel subordinated to the other in the institutional hierarchy – yet while there are outliers on both sides I’d put money on the majority of individuals on both sides accepting and embracing the value and contribution of the other. Yet at the same time the real tensions and contradictions that manifest in the pursuit of the two parallel imperatives are deeply felt by staff yet not always acknowledged by leadership.
What if the job of leadership and boards of governors was not to seek to reconcile academic and business imperatives, but to actively manage the conflicts that arise at times? Where strategic questions arise related to either opportunities or risks, boards need to understand the perspective of both “sides” before being able to judge whether the executive team’s decisions are appropriate. And for institutional staff (and students, to the extent they have a role in institutional governance) there needs to be confidence that the governors have the skills and understanding of the value and importance of both imperatives and the relationship between them – so that there is the trust that decisions have been made in the most effective and transparent way possible.
There might even be a case for institutions to convene internal business strategy boards as part of the governance structure as a counterweight to academic boards – actively empowering both equally as sites of knowledge, expertise and influence – and potentially reducing the strategic burden on institutional boards through creating a more transparent and maybe even more democratic or at least representative forum for internal governance of strategic business development.
It seems likely that the next academic year will see the higher education sector in England move on from “conversations” about governance into something more systematically developmental, whether that’s via the mechanism of the CUC’s review of the Higher Education Code of Governance, or a policy agenda from one of the sector bodies. This is one of those areas where the sector can help itself with government by taking a lead on reform.
Yet there’s a risk that the financial pressures on the sector lead to too close a focus on the strategic business imperatives and not enough on the academic excellence imperative. Institutions need both to be successful, and boards and executive teams – as well as any reviewing organisation – need to give deep consideration to how those can – even if not always peacefully – coexist.
University of Canberra vice-chancellor Bill Shorten holds a media briefing at his university. Picture: Martin Ollman
New University of Canberra (UC) vice-chancellor Bill Shorten has scolded the higher education sector for not keeping up with students’ demands in a piece he penned for The Australian on Thursday.
Please login below to view content or subscribe now.
The Queensland Conservatorium at Griffith University on its South Bank Campus in Brisbane, Queensland.
Nearly six thousand current and former staff at Griffith University have been underpaid more than $6m over the past decade and will receive more than $8m in back-pay.
Please login below to view content or subscribe now.
The Trump administration is reshaping the pursuit of science through federal cuts to research grants and the Department of Education. This will have real consequences for students interested in science, technology, engineering and mathematics, or STEM learning.
One of those consequences is the elimination of learning opportunities such as robotics camps and access to advanced math courses for K-12 students.
As a result, families and caregivers are more essential than ever in supporting children’s learning.
Look for “problems” in or around your home to engineer a solution for. Engineering a solution could include brainstorming ideas, drawing a sketch, creating a prototype or a first draft, testing and improving the prototype and communicating about the invention.
For example, one family in our research created an upside-down soap dispenser for the following problem: “the way it’s designed” − specifically, the straw − “it doesn’t even reach the bottom of the container. So there’s a lot of soap sitting at the bottom.”
To identify a problem and engage in the engineering design process, families are encouraged to use common materials. The materials may include cardboard boxes, cotton balls, construction paper, pine cones and rocks.
Our research found that when children engage in engineering in the home environment with caregivers, parents and siblings, they communicate about and apply science and math concepts that are often “hidden” in their actions.
For instance, when building a paper roller coaster for a marble, children think about how the height will affect the speed of the marble. In math, this relates to the relationship between two variables, or the idea that one thing, such as height, impacts another, the speed. In science, they are applying concepts of kinetic energy and potential energy. The higher the starting point, the more potential energy is converted into kinetic energy, which makes the marble move faster.
Open up a space for exploration around STEM concepts driven by their interests.
Currently, my research with STEM professionals who were homeschooled talk about the power of learning sparked by curiosity.
One participant stated, “At one time, I got really into ladybugs, well Asian Beatles I guess. It was when we had like hundreds in our house. I was like, what is happening? So, I wanted to figure out like why they were there, and then the difference between ladybugs and Asian beetles because people kept saying, these aren’t actually ladybugs.”
In my research, being uncertain about STEM concepts may lead to children exploring and considering different ideas. One concept in particular − playful uncertainties − is when parents and caregivers know the answer to a child’s uncertainties but act as if they do not know.
For example, suppose your child asks, “How can we measure the distance between St. Louis, Missouri, and Nashville, Tennessee, on this map?” You might respond, “I don’t know. What do you think?” This gives children the chance to share their ideas before a parent or caregiver guides them toward a response.
4. Bring STEM to life
Turn ordinary moments into curious conversations.
“This recipe is for four people, but we have 11 people coming to dinner. What should we do?”
In a recent interview, one participant described how much they learned from listening in on financial conversations, seeing how decisions got made about money, and watching how bills were handled. They were developing financial literacy and math skills.
As they noted, “By the time I got to high school, I had a very good basis on what I’m doing and how to do it and function as a person in society.”
Globally, individuals lack financial literacy, which can lead to negative outcomes in the future when it comes to topics such as retirement planning and debt.
Why is this important?
Research shows that talking with friends and family about STEM concepts supports how children see themselves as learners and their later success in STEM fields, even if they do not pursue a career in STEM.
My research also shows how family STEM participation gives children opportunities to explore STEM ideas in ways that go beyond what they typically experience in school.
In my view, these kinds of STEM experiences don’t compete with what children learn in school − they strengthen and support it.
Since January, President Donald Trump has taken countless steps to transform the nation’s colleges and universities. His administration has cut scientific and medical research, ended efforts to promote diversity equity and inclusion (DEI), introduced newly aggressive policies on loan repayment, revoked visas for international students, and more. While Trump’s battles with Harvard and Columbia have received the most attention, the administration’s actions have had consequences far beyond those two universities.
We want to know how the Trump administration is affecting higher education and life on your campus. What, if any, changes are you seeing at your college or university because of federal policy shifts? In what ways do you see higher education changing?
If you prefer, you can also email us directly at [email protected]. Contact editor Lawrie Mifflin at [email protected] or 212-678-4078. Contact editor Caroline Preston at 212-870-8965, via Signal at CarolineP.83 or on email at [email protected].
This story about higher education was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for our newsletters.
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn't mean it's free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
A Black History Month event, canceled. A lab working to fight hunger, shuttered. Student visas revoked, then reinstated, uncertain for how long. Opportunities for students pursuing science careers, fading.
The first six months of the Trump administration have brought a hailstorm of changes to the nation’s colleges and universities. While the president’s faceoffs with Harvard and Columbia have generated the most attention, students on campuses throughout the country are noticing the effects of the administration’s cuts to scientific and medical research, clampdown on any efforts promoting diversity equity and inclusion (DEI), newly aggressive policies for students with loan debt, revoking of visas for international students and more.
Many of the administration’s actions are being challenged in court, but they are influencing the way students interact with each other, what support they can get from their institutions — and even whether they feel safe in this nation.
The Hechinger Report traveled to campuses around the country to look at what these changes mean for students. Reporters visited universities in four states — California, Illinois, Louisiana and Texas — to understand this new era for higher education.
Related: Interested in more news about colleges and universities? Subscribe to our free biweekly higher education newsletter.
Louisiana State University
BATON ROUGE, La. — Last fall, Louisiana State University student A’shawna Smith had an idea for a new campus group to educate students about their legal rights and broader problems in the criminal justice system. Smith, a sociology major, had spent the prior summer interning at a law firm and noticed how many clients didn’t know their rights after an arrest.
Smith, now a rising senior, called it The Injustice Reform and soon recruited classmates and a campus adviser. They wrote a mission statement and trained as student group leaders. On Feb. 20, LSU’s student government, which awards money to campus groups that comes from student fees, gave them $1,200; Smith and her classmates planned to use the award to recruit members and organize events.
At Louisiana State University, in Baton Rouge, students say actions taken by the school’s administration in response to the federal crackdown on diversity, equity and inclusion are changing the campus culture and harming the operations of student government. Credit: Tyler Kaufman/AP Photo
But on April 8, Injustice Reform’s treasurer received a text message from Cortney Greavis, LSU’s student government adviser. She said LSU was rescinding the money: The group’s mission statement ran afoul of new federal and state restrictions on DEI. Its mission mentions racial disparities and police brutality, but the organizers were never told which words violated the rules. Smith and fellow leaders started chipping in their own money to keep the group going: $10 here and there, whatever they could afford, said Bella Porché, a rising senior on the group’s executive board.
Canceling awards to student groups is one way students say administrators at LSU, the state’s flagship university, have restricted what they can do and say since the U.S. Department of Education wrote to schools and colleges nationwide on Valentine’s Day. The letter described DEI efforts — designed to rectify current and historic discrimination — as discriminatory and threatened schools with the loss of federal money unless they ended the consideration of race in admissions, financial aid, housing, training and other practices.
Since the letter, discussion of DEI on campus “has become an anti-gay, anti-Black sort of conversation,” said Emma Miller, a rising senior and elected student senator. “People who are minorities don’t feel safe anymore, don’t feel represented, don’t feel seen, because DEI is being wiped away and their university is not saying anything.”
In a March 7 report, the university detailed dozens of changes made to comply with the letter’s demands. For example, it ended any preference granted to students from historically underrepresented groups for certain privately funded scholarships; opened membership in school-funded student organizations — like a women-in-business group — to all; and canceled activities perceived to emphasize race, even a fitness class kicking off Black History Month.
Student government leaders say the restrictions hinder their ability to operate. Rising junior Tyhlar Holliway, a member of the student government’s Black Caucus, said school administrators essentially shut down the caucus’ proposal that the student government issue a statement after the Department of Education letter in support of DEI programs and initiatives.
LSU public relations staff did not respond to interview requests or to an emailed list of questions, and the school’s civil rights and Title IX division director declined to speak.
Miller said administrators have told student leaders that all their proposed legislation must be reviewed by the school’s general counsel for compliance with the March 7 guidelines. The administration, for example, blocked a student government bill to fund a Black hair care event designed to help students prepare for career and professional opportunities, said senior Paris Holman, a student government member. “We have conferences and interviews and need to know how to take care of our hair,” said Holman, who is Black.
Students have also tailored the language of other bills to avoid the appearance of support for DEI. Holman said that in one case the student senate changed the language in a bill funding an end-of-year event for a minority student organization to remove any reference to the organization as serving minority students.
The school also overrode student government decisions about which groups, like A’shawna Smith’s, could be funded by student fees. In February, the student government voted to provide $641 to help a pre-med student, who is Black, attend a student medical education conference, in part so she could share what she’d learn with other pre-med students. A few weeks later, she received an email from Greavis, the student government adviser, saying she wouldn’t be able to attend with university funds because that money could no longer be used for “DEI-related events, initiatives, programs, or travel.” Greavis didn’t respond to requests for an interview.
The email didn’t specify why the medical conference crossed the line. But the sponsoring organization’s mission statement notes its commitment to “supporting current and future underrepresented minority medical students,” and a conference plenary speaker was scheduled to address the “enduring case for DEI in medicine.” Fewer than 6 percent of doctors are Black and research has shown improved health outcomes for Black patients who are seen by physicians of the same race.
“It doesn’t feel like a democracy,” said Holman of serving in student government at this moment.
She and other students say the university’s actions are starting to change the broader culture at LSU, which serves nearly 40,000 undergraduate and graduate students on its campus of Italian Renaissance buildings shaded by magnolias and Southern live oaks. About 60 percent of students are white and 18 percent are Black, according to federal data.
Mila Fair, a rising sophomore journalism major and a reporter for the campus TV station, said students tell her they’re afraid to join protests, in part because of LSU’s new anti-DEI rules and the national crackdown on student demonstrations. Those who do attend are often afraid to go on camera with her, she said.
Professor Andrew Sluyter of Louisiana State University. The university purged hundreds of webpages referencing DEI-related content, including a press release announcing a prestigious fellowship he’d won that mentioned “higher education’s racial inequities.” Credit: Steven Yoder for The Hechinger Report
Latin American studies professor Andrew Sluyter said administrators normally listen to the student government — even more than to the faculty government — but now worry about students getting the school into “political hot water.” He had his own run-in with the DEI ban: As part of a February effort to scrub school websites of diversity references, in which the university purged hundreds of webpages referencing DEI-related content, LSU deleted a 2022 press release announcing a prestigious fellowship he’d won that mentioned “higher education’s racial inequities.”
Students recognize the pressure LSU is under from the federal government, but they want administrators to stand up for them, said graduate student Alicia Cerquone, a student senator. “We want some sort of communication from the university that shows commitment to its community, that they have our backs and they’ll protect students,” she said.
— Steven Yoder
The University of California, Berkeley
BERKELEY, Calif. — Since early April, Rayne Xue, a junior at the University of California, Berkeley, has watched with trepidation as the Trump administration has taken one step after another to limit international students’ access to American higher education.
First came the abrupt cancellation, then reinstatement, of visas for 23 Berkeley students and recent graduates. Then the government cut off Harvard’s ability to enroll international students — a move since blocked by a federal judge — raising fears that something similar could happen at Berkeley. And late last month, as this year’s graduates were celebrating their recent commencements, Secretary of State Marco Rubio paused interviews for all new student visas and announced he would “aggressively revoke” those of Chinese students.
About 16 percent of University of California, Berkeley, students come from outside the United States. Credit: Eric Risberg/AP Photo
Xue, who is from Beijing and won a student senate seat this past spring on a platform of supporting international students, said the administration’s actions strike at a critical part of campus life at Berkeley.
“College is the opportunity of a lifetime to unlearn prejudices and embrace new perspectives, neither of which is possible without a student body that comes from a wide range of geographic and cultural backgrounds,” she said.
About 16 percent of UC Berkeley’s more than 45,000 students come from outside the United States to study at the crown jewel of California’s public research university system, where creeks run through campus beneath cooling redwoods and parking spaces are set aside for Nobel laureates. China, India, South Korea and Canada send the biggest numbers. International students pay higher tuition than California residents, boosting the university’s coffers and subsidizing some of their peers. Many of them conduct cutting-edge research in fields like computer science, engineering and chemistry.
Now the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown, magnified by the yanking of billions in federal research dollars, has international students worried about their future on campus. Many are changing their behavior to avoid scrutiny: Some canceled travel plans and many said they avoid walking near any campus protests in fear of being photographed.
“It’s difficult for international students to feel secure when they cannot anticipate what the administration might charge against them next — or whether they might be unfairly targeted,” said one global studies major who asked not to be identified for fear of attracting retaliation.
Tomba Morreau, a rising junior from the Netherlands studying sociology, said he stopped posting about politics on social media — just in case.
That kind of self-censorship troubles Paul Fine, co-chair of the Berkeley Faculty Association, which represents about a fifth of the university’s tenure-track faculty.
Federal policies are “creating this culture of fear where people start to censor themselves and try to stay under the radar and not show up in their full selves, whether for academic work or activism,” he said.
International students in Fine’s classes told him they wanted to attend a recent protest against federal threats to higher education but were afraid of the consequences, he said. Others told him they were skipping academic conferences outside the United States that they otherwise would have attended.
“Berkeley really prides ourselves on being an intellectual hub that convenes people from all over the world to work on the most important problems,” Fine said. Now that identity is at risk, he said, especially as actual and threatened cuts to grants make it harder for faculty to hire international graduate students and postdocs.
Most poignant, he said, was hearing from demoralized Chinese students who left a repressive government to come to the United States only to see attacks on academic freedom replicated here.
We want to hear from you.
Are you a student, professor, staff or faculty member? Our journalists want to know how the Trump administration is affecting higher education and life on your college campus.
Xue said she hopes the crisis facing universities would draw attention to the challenges international students face, including limited financial aid and the stereotype that all of them are wealthy. With her colleagues in student government, she is lobbying for Berkeley to spend more on the international office, which provides one-on-one advising on visa issues and employment.
For Lily Liu, a Chinese computer scientist, 2025 was shaping up to be a year of milestones. She graduated with a doctorate last month, has a job lined up at a leading artificial intelligence company and is engaged to be married in November.
But the Trump administration’s changing policies toward international scholars have complicated celebrations for Liu, who’s in a federal program that extends her visa for up to a year beyond graduation so she can gain work experience here. She canceled summer travel plans with her family, concerned she might not be let back into the country. And she’s considering moving her wedding to the United States from China, even though many of her relatives wouldn’t be able to attend.
“For international students, every policy affects us a lot,” she said. So Liu is careful. After the publication of her thesis was delayed, she visited Berkeley’s international office to make sure the setback wouldn’t affect her work permit. Her fiancé has a green card, which should theoretically mean his immigration status is more stable. But these days, she said, who knows?
— Felicia Mello
The University of Texas at San Antonio
SAN ANTONIO, Texas — Growing up here, Reina Saldivar had always loved science — all she wanted to watch on TV was “Animal Planet.” Yet until she applied on a whim to a program for aspiring researchers after her first year at the University of Texas at San Antonio, she assumed she would spend her life as a lab technician, running cultures.
The program, Maximizing Access to Research Careers, or MARC, was started by the National Institutes of Health decades ago at colleges around the country to prepare students, especially those from historically underrepresented backgrounds, for livelihoods in the biomedical sciences.
Saldivar got in. And through the program, she spent much of her time on campus in a university lab, helping develop a carrier molecule for a new Lyme disease vaccine. Now Saldivar, who graduated this spring, plans to eventually return to academia for a doctorate.
“What MARC taught me was that my dreams aren’t out of reach,” she said.
Saldivar is among hundreds who’ve participated in the MARC program since its 1980 founding at the University of Texas at San Antonio. She may also be among the last. In April, the university’s MARC program director, Edwin Barea-Rodriguez, opened his email inbox to find a form letter terminating the initiative and advising against recruiting more cohorts.
The letter cited “changes in NIH/HHS [Health and Human Services] priorities.” In recent months, the Trump administration has canceled at least half a dozen programs meant to train scholars and diversify the sciences as part of an effort to root out what the president labels illegal DEI.
In a statement to The Hechinger Report, NIH said that it “is committed to restoring the agency to its tradition of upholding gold-standard, evidence-based science” and is reviewing grants to make sure the agency is “addressing the United States chronic disease epidemic.”
With MARC ending, Barea-Rodriguez is searching for a way to continue supporting current participants until they graduate next academic year. Without access to federal money, however, the young scientists are anxious about their futures — and that of public health in general.
“It took years to be where we are now,” said Barea-Rodriguez, who said he was not speaking on behalf of his university, “and in a hundred days everything was destroyed.”
UTSA’s sprawling campus sits on the northwest edge of San Antonio, far from tourist sites like the Alamo and the River Walk. Forty-four percent of the nearly 31,000 undergraduate students are the first in their families to attend college; more than 61 percent identify as Hispanic or Latino. The university was one of the first nationwide to earn Department of Education recognition as a Hispanic-serving institution, a designation for colleges where at least a quarter of full-time undergraduates are Hispanic.
When Barea-Rodriguez arrived to teach at the school in 1995, many locals considered it a glorified community college, he said. But in the three decades since, the investments NIH made through MARC and other federal programs have helped it become a top-tier research university. That provided students like Saldivar with access to world-class opportunities close to home and fostered talent that propelled the economy in San Antonio and beyond.
The Trump administration has quickly upended much of that infrastructure, not only by terminating career pipeline programs for scholars, but also by pulling more than $8.2 million in National Science Foundation money from UTSA.
One of those canceled grants paid for student researchers and the development of new technologies to improve equity in math education and better serve elementary school kids from underrepresented backgrounds in a city that is about 64 percent Hispanic. Another aimed to provide science, technology, engineering and math programming to bilingual and low-income communities.
UTSA administrators did not respond to requests for comment about how federal funding freezes and cuts are affecting the university. Nationwide, more than 1,600 NSF grants have been axed since January.
In San Antonio, undergraduates said MARC and other now-dead programs helped prepare them for academic and professional careers that might have otherwise been elusive. Speaking in a lab remodeled and furnished with NIH money, where leftover notes and diagrams on glass erase boards showed the research questions students had been noodling, they described how the programs taught them about drafting an abstract, honing public speaking and writing skills, networking, putting together a résumé and applying for summer research positions, travel scholarships and graduate opportunities.
“All of the achievements that I’ve collected have pretty much been, like, a direct result of the program,” said Seth Fremin, a senior biochemistry major who transferred to UTSA from community college and has co-authored five articles in major journals, with more in the pipeline. After graduation, he will start a fully funded doctoral program at the University of Pittsburgh to continue his research on better understanding chemical reactions.
Seth Fremin, a senior biochemistry major at the University of Texas at San Antonio, with Edwin Barea-Rodriguez. Credit: Alexandra Villareal for The Hechinger Report
Similarly, Elizabeth Negron, a rising senior, is spending this summer at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, researching skin microbiomes to see if certain bacteria predispose some people to cancers.
“It’s weird when you meet students who didn’t get into these programs,” Negron said, referring to MARC. “They haven’t gone to conferences. They haven’t done research. They haven’t been able to mentor students. … It’s very strange to acknowledge what life would have been without it. I don’t know if I could say I’d be as successful as I am now.”
With money for MARC erased, Negron said she will probably need a job once she returns to campus in the fall so she can afford day-to-day expenses. Before, research was her job.
“Without MARC,” she said, “it becomes a question of can I at least cover my tuition and my very basic needs.”
— Alexandra Villarreal
The University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
CHAMPAIGN, Ill. — When Peter Goldsmith received notice in late January that his Soybean Innovation Lab at the University of Illinois would soon lose all of its funding, he had no idea it was coming. Suddenly Goldsmith, the lab’s director, had to tell his 30 employees they would soon be out of a job and tell research partners across Africa that operations would come to a halt. The lab didn’t even have money to water its soybean fields in Africa.
One employee, Julia Paniago, was in Malawi when she got the news. “We came back the next day,” she said of her team, “and it was a lot of uncertainty. And a lot of people cried.”
The University of Illinois’ Soybean Innovation Lab (SIL) was part of a network of 17 labs at universities across the country, all working on research related to food production and reducing global hunger, and all funded through the U.S. Agency for International Development — until the Trump administration shut down USAID.
Brian Diers is former deputy director of the University of Illinois’ Soybean Innovation Lab. The lab lost its funding because of cuts to the U.S. Agency for International Development. Credit: Miles MacClure for The Hechinger Report
Soybeans — which provide both oil and high-protein food — aren’t yet commonly grown in Malawi. SIL researchers have been working toward two related goals: helping local farmers increase soybean production and ameliorate malnutrition and generating enough interest in the crop there that a new export market will open for American farmers.
The lab’s researchers work in soybean breeding, economics and mechanical research as well as education. They hope to show that soybean production in Africa is worth further investment so that eventually the private sector will come in after them.
“The people who work at SIL, they like being right at the frontier of change,” Goldsmith said. “It’s high-risk work — that’s what the universities do, that’s what scientific research is about.”
UI, the state’s flagship with a sprawling campus spread between the cities of Urbana and Champaign, is noted for its research work, especially agricultural research.
Labs and researchers across the university lost funding in cuts made by the Trump administration; more than $25 million from agencies including NIH, NSF and the National Endowment for the Humanities was cut, Melissa Edwards, associate vice chancellor for research and innovation, said, a total of 59 grants amounting to 3.6 percent of their overall federal grant portfolio.
Annette Donnelly, who just received her doctorate in education, is among those affected. Her research focuses on educating malnourished children in Africa and developing courses to help Africans learn how to process soybeans into oil.
In April, SIL was handed a lifeline — an anonymous $1 million gift that will keep the lab running through April 2026. The donation wasn’t enough for Goldsmith to rehire all of his employees; SIL’s annual operating budget before the USAID cuts was $3.3 million (and would have kept things running through 2027). But, he said, the money will allow SIL to continue its research in the Lower Shire Valley in Malawi, a project he hopes will attract future donors to fund the lab’s work.
The April donation saved Donnelly’s job, but her priorities shifted. “We’re doing research,” she said, “but we’re also doing a lot of proposal writing. It has taken on a much greater priority.”
Donnelly hopes to attract more funding so she can resume research she had started in western Kenya, demonstrating that introducing soy into children’s diets increased their protein intake by up to 65 percent, she said.
The impact that funding cuts will have on researchers at the soybean lab pales in comparison to the impact on their partners in Africa, Donnelly emphasized. There, she said, the cuts mean processors will likely slow production, limiting their ability to deliver soy products. “The consequences there are much bigger,” she said.
The Soybean Innovation Lab was funded through the Feed the Future initiative, a program to help partner countries develop better agricultural practices that began under the Obama administration in 2010. All 17 Feed the Future innovation labs funded through USAID lost funding, except for the one at Kansas State University, which studies heat-tolerant wheat.
The soybean lab’s office is housed on a quiet edge of the Illinois campus in a building once occupied by the university’s veterinary medicine program. Across the street, rows of greenhouses are home to the Crop Science Department’s experiments.
There, Brian Diers is breeding soybean varieties that resist soybean rust, a disease that’s been an obstacle to ramping up soybean production across sub-Saharan Africa. A professor emeritus who is retired, Diers works part-time at SIL to assist with soybean breeding. The April donation wasn’t enough to cover his work. Now he volunteers his time.
“ If we can help African agriculture take off and become more productive, that’s eventually going to help their economies and then provide more opportunities for American farmers to export to Africa,” he said.
Goldsmith drew an analogy between his lab’s work and the state of American agriculture in the 1930s. As the Dust Bowl swept through the Great Plains, Monsanto or another company could have stepped in to help combat it, but didn’t. Public land-grant universities did.
“That’s where the innovation comes from, from the public land grants in the U.S.,” Goldsmith said. “And now the public land grants still work in U.S. agriculture but also in the developing world.”
Commercial soybean producers hesitate to dip their toes into unproven markets, he said, so it’s SIL’s job to demonstrate that a viable market exists. “That was our secret sauce, in that lots of commercial players liked the products, the technologies we had, and wanted to move into the soybean space, but it wasn’t a profitable market,” Goldsmith said of the African soybean market.
Diers said federal funding cuts imperil not just the development of commerce and global food production but the next generation of scientists as well.
“We could potentially lose a generation of scientists who won’t go into science because there’s no funding right now,” he said.
— Miles MacClure
Contact editor Lawrie Mifflin at [email protected] or 212-678-4078. Contact editor Caroline Preston at 212-870-8965, via Signal at CarolineP.83 or on email at [email protected].
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
