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  • Closing Equity Gaps in CTE Programs for Black Students

    Closing Equity Gaps in CTE Programs for Black Students

    Black students enroll in career and technical education programs at rates on par with their peers, but studies suggest they’re overrepresented in service-oriented fields that lead to lower-wage jobs, and less likely to participate in CTE courses in potentially lucrative STEM fields.

    A new research brief, released last week by the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, delved into such inequities and explored possible solutions based on qualitative interviews with Black program staff, current and former CTE students, members of workforce development organizations, training providers, researchers, and other CTE experts. The authors argue those voices are especially critical when federal legislation funding the programs—the Strengthening Career and Technical Education for the 21st Century Act, or Perkins V—is poised for reauthorization in fiscal year 2026.

    The report pointed out that in the 2022–23 academic year, Black students made up about 13 percent of high school students and about 15 percent of college students in CTE programs. But a 2020 analysis of CTE data in 40 states by Hechinger Report and the Associated Press found that Black students were less likely than their white peers to enroll in courses focused on science, technology, engineering, math and information technology, and more likely to take classes in fields such as hospitality and human services.

    A 2021 report by the Urban Institute also found that compared to their white peers, Black students in CTE courses had significantly lower grade point averages, lower rates of earning credentials or degrees at their first colleges, and a lower likelihood of finding a job in a related field. On average, Black participants in these programs earned more than $8,200 less than white students six years after starting CTE programs, controlling for the highest degree attained and sector of study. Earnings gaps worsened for Black students in online CTE programs; Black students who enrolled in those earned less than half of what their white peers did, despite having started in the same program in the same year, eventually earning the same degrees.

    “These disparities are major barriers to increasing the earning potential of Black workers and learners and to narrowing the racial wealth divide,” Joint Center president Dedrick Asante-Muhammad said in a news release.

    Lessons Learned

    In interviews with the Joint Center, Black CTE experts shared insights into some of the challenges of providing more equitable CTE programs.

    Some emphasized that Black CTE teachers, and technical instructors in general, are hard to recruit and retain because they can make better salaries working industry jobs in their fields, leaving students without mentors who look like them. In general, the experts raised concerns about CTE instructors lacking professional development, including on culturally responsive teaching.

    The research brief also suggested that Black communities don’t always trust CTE programs because historically, schools funneled Black students into low-quality technical programs. CTE programs hold a stigma for some potential students who still view them as pathways for students of color considered unlikely to attend college rather than a viable career step that doesn’t preclude higher education, the brief said.

    Experts also noted that while Perkins V funds require states to submit a local needs assessment, which involves reviewing enrollment and performance data for CTE students, data collection varies across states and gaps in data too often serve students poorly. For example, the mandatory accountability measures for Perkins V funds require data on CTE concentrators—high school students who finished at least two courses in the same CTE program—but that doesn’t include college students or students who dabble in CTE but don’t qualify as a concentrator.

    Co-author of the brief and Joint Center workforce policy director Kayla Elliott also acknowledged that the Trump administration’s recent decision to shift management of CTE programs from the Department of Education to the Department of Labor creates new uncertainty for the programs.

    “This raises real concerns for the program’s effectiveness and the efficiency of support services for state administrators,” she said in the release. “Some states have already reported waiting months for their Perkins funding with little communication or support from the administration.”

    But CTE experts also said Perkins V funding is flexible in ways that can help support Black students. For example, states can use up to 15 percent of the federal funds to drive innovation and implement new programs. States can also combine Perkins V funding with other funding sources, like the Workforce Innovation and Opportunity Act, which can help states better align CTE programs and workforce development programs. The funds can also be used for career exploration activities to introduce Black students to these programs.

    The research brief offered recommendations to improve Black student access and outcomes in CTE, including increasing federal funding during the next reauthorization; improving retention and recruitment strategies for Black CTE teachers, including by raising instructor wages; and enhancing data collection standards. The authors also suggested CTE programs better align with workforce development efforts at the state level and do more engagement and outreach to help Black families better understand how these programs can lead to high-earning technical careers.

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  • AI Can Help With Viewpoint Diversity Challenges (opinion)

    AI Can Help With Viewpoint Diversity Challenges (opinion)

    Viewpoint diversity and artificial intelligence are two of the most widely discussed challenges facing higher education today. What if we could address these two simultaneously, employing AI to create productive intellectual friction across different political and philosophical positions?

    Consider taking this approach: Whom do you ardently disagree with, philosophically or morally, but view as smart and rigorous in their analysis and arguments? I can think of one of my high school heroes, Ayn Rand, whose The Fountainhead I initially regarded as a powerful affirmation of creativity and innovation without knowing much about her deeper political ideology. This summer, I decided to read her collection of essays on capitalism, which I suspected I would disagree with at a fundamental level. Then I looked to AI. Could I engage Ayn Rand’s ideas through a large language model that would “disagree” with me, allowing me to experience intellectual friction with less at stake personally?

    I began my conversation with the chatbot Claude 3.5, asking it to play the role of Ayn Rand, by addressing her core argument: Capitalism is the only moral system because it honors the rights and liberty of every person to reap the benefits of their own creativity and effort without being coerced to give up some of what they have produced to “benefit” society. Here is how it went.

    Me: In your version of capitalism, how do humans/societies decide to produce something bigger than anyone could do alone? What if sending someone to the moon could never be coordinated through independent, voluntary contracts and instead requires some larger entity, like a government, to coordinate and incentivize? If democratic citizens vote to have the government organize a mission to the moon, why is that coercive?

    *Adjusting her glasses with a stern expression* (Stage cues provided by the bot)

    Rand bot: Your question reveals the very philosophical premises I reject. You speak of “democratic citizens” voting to achieve something “greater together”—but greater for whom? By what right do these citizens vote to expropriate the wealth of others for their collective fantasy?

    The fact that some men dream of reaching the moon does not give them the moral right to force others to fund their dream. If reaching the moon is truly valuable, let those who see that value risk their own capital, form their own companies and make voluntary contracts. Look at what private enterprises like SpaceX have achieved through voluntary cooperation and the profit motive!

    You present a false dichotomy between individual rights and large-scale achievement. The greatest achievements in human history—from the transcontinental railroad to the electric light—came from private individuals working through voluntary contracts, not government force. Even when multiple parties were involved, they chose to cooperate for mutual benefit.

    The moment you accept that it’s acceptable to violate individual rights for some “greater good,” you’ve accepted the premise of every dictator and looter in history. There is no such thing as a “right” to violate rights. A group’s desire, no matter how noble-sounding, does not trump an individual’s right to the product of their own effort.

    *Takes drag from cigarette* (more stage cues …)

    Would you care to explain why you believe some men have the right to enslave others for their collective goals?

    I was fully engaged at this point, and I wanted to expose her rigid thinking, so I raised the stakes.

    Me: Would you agree that public health might require a “collective response”? Let’s say that individuals acting independently have no incentive to invest in clean water, vaccines or databases that collect public health data. Is it better to allow millions of people to die from the spread of disease in the name of maximum individual freedom, or to have the government coordinate action to provide public health benefits to everyone?

    Rand bot: *Tapping cigarette ash with visible irritation*

    Your premise rests on the most dangerous of all moral fallacies— that the mere existence of a problem justifies the use of force to solve it. You speak of “public health” as if it were some mystical collective entity that supersedes individual rights. There is no such thing as “public health”—there are only individual human beings, each with the right to make their own decisions about their health and well-being.

    This back-and-forth went on for more than an hour, covering topics like innovation, market failures and unequal access to basic resources. I was worn out, so I closed the conversation.

    Me: I am arguing that humans can create mixed economic and political systems and that those systems can muddle along—imperfectly—and people may live with those compromises because they still have freedom while affording greater opportunity to their fellow citizens. You believe in an inevitable slide toward destruction and loss of freedom. I don’t see that slide happening in much of the democratic world. So compromise is possible. So I think we can work with this hybrid system—improve, find the right balance, and continue to advance a more perfect union.

    And then, “Ayn Rand” made her final summation:

    Rand bot: You want me to acknowledge that reality has not matched my darkest predictions. That humans have found ways to maintain significant freedom and progress despite what I see as moral compromise. And you argue that evidence matters—that decades of relative prosperity and innovation under mixed systems deserve consideration.

    I cannot and will not concede the fundamental moral principle: that force is force, whether applied by a dictator or a democratic majority. Your “muddling along” is built on a fundamental contradiction that I believe must eventually resolve itself—either toward freedom or toward force …

    I was impressed that the bot could articulate Rand’s core arguments, impersonate her direct writing and speaking style, question my own logic, provide specific examples, “reason” beyond the time and place of her original writing, and offer creative analogies (when pressed to explain the economic success of today’s welfare capitalism, she responded, “You are celebrating reaching the 2nd floor while I am pointing out that we could have built a skyscraper”). This was one of the most intellectually engaging 90 minutes I have spent in a long time.

    I wanted to check my reactions against the wisdom and judgment of one of our philosophy professors at Hamilton College, so I sent the entire exchange to him. He noted that the AI bot argued like a robot and relied too heavily on rhetoric rather than sound argumentation. Ultimately, the problem, as he sees it, is that “an AI Bot will never be able to genuinely distinguish between debating with the intent of ‘winning’ an argument and debating with the intent of arriving at a deeper understanding of the subject matter at hand.” It is also worth pointing out that debating across a screen, with AI or with friends and strangers, is partly why we are having so much trouble talking to each other in the first place.

    AI is not a substitute for what we learn in our philosophy classes. But there is something powerful about practicing our ideas with people across time and place—debating race with James Baldwin, asking Leonardo da Vinci to think about how we reconcile innovation with destruction.

    One of our faculty members worked with our technology team to create an AI agent based on thousands of documents and writings from our nation’s founders. At the end of this class on the founding of America, the students debated with “Alexander Hamilton” about the role of the central government, inherited wealth and his views on war. Perhaps the answers were a bit robotic, but they were based on Hamilton’s documented thoughts, and as our language models get better, the richness of the discussion and debate will grow exponentially.

    The best classes and teachers maximize learning by bringing opposing ideas into conversation. But we know that college students, faculty and many others in America find it very difficult to engage opposing views, especially those we find fundamentally objectionable. Ultimately, this must happen on a human-to-human level with skilled educators and facilitators. But can we also use AI to help us practice how we engage with difference, better formulate our arguments and ask deeper and more complex questions?

    AI can be part of the solution to our challenge of engaging with ideas we disagree with. If you disagree, try your argument with an AI bot first, and then let’s talk.

    Steven Tepper is president of Hamilton College.

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  • Defining quality is a thorny problem, but we shouldn’t shy away from the Government’s intention to make sure every student gets the best deal

    Defining quality is a thorny problem, but we shouldn’t shy away from the Government’s intention to make sure every student gets the best deal

    Join HEPI for a webinar on Thursday 11 December 2025 from 10am to 11am to discuss how universities can strengthen the student voice in governance to mark the launch of our upcoming report, Rethinking the Student Voice. Sign up now to hear our speakers explore the key questions.

    This blog is kindly authored by Meg Haskins, Policy Manager at the Russell Group.

    You can read HEPI’s other blog on the current OfS consultation here and here.

    Quality is one of the most frequently used, yet least clearly defined, concepts in higher education. For decades, debates have rumbled on about how best to measure it, and yet the term continues to be used liberally and often vaguely. From university marketing promising a “high-quality student experience” to political critiques of so-called “Mickey Mouse courses,” the term is everywhere – but its precise meaning remains elusive.

    Quality matters: to students making significant financial and personal investments; to staff who take pride in their teaching and research; to funders and policymakers; and to the UK’s global reputation. If we’re asking students to take out significant loans and trust that higher education will act as a springboard into their futures, we must not only deliver quality but also demonstrate it clearly, transparently and in ways that support ongoing improvement.

    The OfS consultation is the sector’s golden opportunity to define how this is done.

    The Russell Group supports a more integrated and streamlined quality assessment system – one that reduces duplication, improves clarity and actively supports efforts to enhance quality further. But integration must not come at the expense of flexibility within the model. The system needs to make space for narrative contextualisation rather than reductive judgements.

    Heavy reliance on benchmarking is particularly concerning. It risks disadvantaging institutions with a historically strong absolute performance and limiting meaningful differentiation. To ensure fairness, absolute values must carry greater weight, and there should be transparency on benchmark thresholds and definitions of “material” deviation, especially outcomes which will have regulatory and funding consequences.

    So far, ministers have been light on detail about what change they’re actually expecting to see on quality assurance. Ideas of linking quality measures to recruitment numbers or fee levels have caused concern, which is understandable given that the system for measuring quality is untested. But we shouldn’t fear greater scrutiny. Students, taxpayers and the public deserve clarity about what quality looks like in real terms – and reassurance that it is being delivered at a high level and consistently.

    Demonstrating quality is something Russell Group universities have always taken seriously, and is now under increasing public scrutiny in the face of rhetoric from certain political quarters about “rip-off degrees”. As such, our universities have taken steps to measure and robustly evidence the quality of our provision. Beyond regulatory metrics, graduate outcomes surveys, the TEF and professional body accreditations, our universities embed quality assurance through multiple levels of governance, including academic boards and senates, independent audits, annual and periodic module and programme reviews, and student feedback mechanisms. This has led to continuous improvement and enhancement of quality at our universities, reflected in the strength of their outcomes.

    Crucially, high quality is not about selectivity or league tables. The Secretary of State is rightly clear in her ambition for all young people to have a wide range of excellent options across different institutions, levels and qualification types. But this choice needs to go hand-in-hand with quality, which is why we need baseline expectations across all institutions and swift regulatory action where these standards aren’t met.

    If the sector embraces greater scrutiny in this way, then metrics must be robust, transparent and fair. Streamlining and clarifying processes should reduce duplication and burden, while maintaining a strong focus on enhancement.

    The regulator has both carrots and sticks at its disposal. While it is positive to see an intention to reward high-quality provision, benchmarking that obscures excellence could inadvertently punish those delivering the strongest outcomes – surely not the government’s intention.

    Particularly worrying is the idea that the OfS could start deriving overall ratings from a lower individual aspect rating. This compresses results and risks obscuring examples of high-quality provision, adding little value for students. Even more concerning is the proposal to reclassify the Bronze ratings as a trigger for regulatory intervention. This could redefine the baseline for compliance as a form of failure in quality, and blur the line between judgements of excellence and regulatory compliance – a muddled message for providers and confusing for students.

    Ultimately, the goal must be a more outward-facing quality model – one that strengthens public and ministerial trust, reinforces the UK’s global credibility, and upholds the reputation for excellence that underpins our higher education sector.

    By positioning higher tuition fees as one side of a “deal,” the Government is challenging the sector to demonstrate, clearly and confidently, that students are receiving both a high-quality experience and high-quality outcomes in return. That deal will only be credible if quality is defined fairly, measured transparently, and assessed in ways that support enhancement as well as accountability.

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  • Changes to TEF risk institutions choosing between continuous improvement or compliance

    Changes to TEF risk institutions choosing between continuous improvement or compliance

    With the deadline for the Office for Students’ consultation on quality and standards fast approaching, the sector is staring down the barrel of a high-stakes new reality.

    In this proposed world, a Bronze award is no longer just a rating; it is a compliance warning. While Gold providers may enjoy a five-year cycle, the underlying machinery proposes something far more demanding: the replacement of the fixed cycle with continuous data monitoring, where a dip in indicators can trigger immediate regulatory intervention.

    To understand the implications of this shift, we need to adopt the lens of Janus – the god of transitions. By looking back at the lessons of the 2023 exercise, we can better evaluate the structural risks of the regulatory cycle looming ahead.

    The evidence from the three major sector evaluations of the 2023 exercise – Office for Students’ commissioned IFF research, QAA and Advance HE – suggests that we are at a tipping point. The question is whether the new framework will drive continuous improvement or simply enforce continuous compliance.

    The paradox of context

    TEF 2023 was defined by a fundamental structural tension: the clash between the regulator’s need for sector-wide consistency and the provider’s need to articulate institutional nuance.

    The lesson from 2023 was clear. Success didn’t come from generic excellence; it came from proving that practices were “embedded” in a way that served a specific student demographic. In fact, QAA analysis shows the word ‘embedded’ appeared over 500 times in panel statements. High-performing institutions proved that their support wasn’t optional but structurally woven into the curriculum because their student intake required it.

    But this nuance comes at a heavy price. If you demand a highly individualised narrative to justify your metrics, you dramatically increase the administrative labour required to produce it. This reliance on narrative also creates a profound equity issue. The framework risks favouring institutions with the resources to craft polished, professionalised narratives over those taking actual risks on widening participation.

    Furthermore, for smaller and specialist providers, the ‘paradox of context’ is statistical, not just narrative. We must recognise the extreme volatility of data for small cohorts, where a single student’s outcome can drastically skew statistics. If the regulator relies heavily on data integration, we risk a system that mistakes statistical noise for institutional failure.

    The compliance trap

    The IFF Research evaluation confirmed that the single biggest obstacle for providers in TEF 2023 was staff capacity and time. This burden didn’t just burn out staff; it may have distorted the student voice it was meant to amplify. While the student submission is intended to add texture to the metrics, the sheer scale of the task drove standardisation. The IFF report highlights that providers struggled to ensure student engagement was adequate due to time constraints. The unintended consequence is clear: instead of messy, authentic co-creation, the burden risks creating a system where providers rely on aggregating generic survey data just to “manage” the student voice efficiently.

    The stakes are raised further by the proposed mechanism for calculating overall ratings. The consultation proposes a rule-based approach where the Overall Rating is automatically determined by the lowest of the two aspect ratings. This removes necessary judgement from the process, but the consequences are more than just reputational. With proposals to limit student number growth for Bronze providers and potential links to fee limits, the sector fears a ‘downward spiral.’ If a provider meets the baseline quality standards (Condition B3) but is branded Bronze, stripping them of the resources (through fee or growth limits) needed to invest in improvement creates a self-fulfilling prophecy of decline.

    From “project” to “department”

    This brings us to the most urgent risk of the proposed rolling cycle. If a single, periodic TEF submission required that level of resource to prove “embedding” what happens when the oversight becomes continuous?

    The structural shift here is profound. We are moving from TEF as a periodic “project” – something universities can surge resources for every four years – to TEF as a permanent “department”. This continuous oversight demands permanent, dedicated institutional infrastructure for quality evidencing. It translates the high cost of a periodic audit into the risk of an endless, resource-intensive audit. The danger is that we are not moving toward continuous improvement but toward continuous compliance.

    Furthermore, the proposed timeline creates a specific trap for those rated Bronze. The proposal suggests these providers be reassessed every three years. However, given the lag in HESA and Graduate Outcomes data, a provider could implement a strategic fix immediately, yet still be judged on ‘old’ data by the time the next three-year cycle arrives.

    Furthermore, three years is often insufficient for strategic changes to manifest in lagged data. This risks locking institutions into a cycle where they are constantly being assessed – and potentially penalised – without the necessary time to generate new data that reflects their improvements.

    Innovation lag

    Furthermore, this permanent bureaucracy is being built on a framework that is already struggling to keep pace with reality. There is a speed mismatch between regulation and innovation.

    Regulation moves at the pace of government; Artificial Intelligence moves at the pace of Moore’s Law. The QAA analysis noted that TEF 2023 submissions contained minimal reference to AI, simply because the submission process was too slow to capture the sector’s rapid pivot.

    If we lock ourselves into a rigid framework that rewards historical ‘embeddedness’, we risk punishing institutions that are pivoting quickly. Worse, the pressure for consistency may drive ‘curriculum conservatism’ – where universities centralise design to ensure safety, reducing the autonomy of academics to experiment.

    The path forward?

    So, how do providers survive the rolling cycle? The only viable response is strategy alignment.

    Universities must stop treating TEF as a separate exercise. Data collection can no longer be an audit panic; it must be integrated into business-as-usual strategic planning. Evidence gathering must become the byproduct of the strategic work we are already funded to do.

    But the regulator must move too. We need a system that acknowledges the ‘paradox of context’ – you cannot have perfect nuance and perfect statistical comparison simultaneously.

    As we submit our responses to the consultation, we must advocate for a regulatory philosophy that shifts from assurance (preventing failure) to enabling (fostering responsible experimentation). If the cost of the new cycle is the erosion of the resources needed for actual teaching, then the framework will have failed the very test of excellence it seeks to measure.

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  • Before we automate REF there are three issues we need to talk about

    Before we automate REF there are three issues we need to talk about

    The long-awaited REF-AI report prompts the sector to imagine an increasingly automated REF, but also leaves several important questions unanswered about what such a future might mean for the people and practices that underpin research assessment. Before we embed AI more deeply into REF2029, we need to pause and reflect on three issues that deserve much greater attention, starting with the long-term risks to disciplinary expertise.

    Long-term impacts: Efficiency gains and the risk of skills erosion

    Recommendation 15 in the report proposes that: “REF assessments should include a human verification step… confirming that final judgements rest on human academic expertise.”

    This feels sensible on the surface. But the longer-term implications warrant more attention. Across many sectors, evidence shows that when automation takes on tasks requiring expert judgement, human expertise can slowly erode as roles shift from analysis to oversight. The report itself recognises this trend when discussing labour substitution and task reallocation.

    REF processes already rely heavily on signals, heuristics and proxies, particularly under time pressure. Introducing AI may further reduce opportunities for deep disciplinary reading in panel work. If this happens, then by the 2030s or 2040s, the experts needed to meaningfully verify AI-generated assessments may become harder to sustain.

    This is not an argument against using AI, but rather a suggestion that we need to consider the long-term stewardship of disciplinary expertise, and ensure that any AI integration strengthens, rather than displaces, human judgement. We don’t yet have expertise in how to collaborate effectively with AI systems and their outputs. This needs to be developed as a conscious endeavour to ensure that AI supports research assessment responsibly.

    Learning from Responsible Research Assessment (RRA)

    Over more than a decade, frameworks such as DORA, CoARA, the Hong Kong Principles and the Leiden Manifesto have laid out clear principles for responsible use of quantitative indicators, transparency, equity, and disciplinary diversity. The REF-AI report notes that in the interviews conducted: “Seldom was mention made of responsible research assessment initiatives such as DORA and CoARA… There is no clear view that the deployment of GenAI tools in the REF is antithetical to the ambitions of such initiatives.” But the absence of discussion in the focus groups does not necessarily mean a positive alignment, it may simply indicate that RRA principles were not a prominent reference point in the design or facilitation of the project.

    A fuller analysis could explore how AI intersects with core RRA questions, including: i) How do we assess what we value, not just what is machine-readable? ii) How do we prevent AI from amplifying systemic inequities? iii) How do we ensure transparency in systems underpinned by proprietary models? and iv) How do we avoid metrics-by-stealth re-entering the REF through automated tools? These considerations are essential, not peripheral, to thinking about AI in research assessment.

    Representation: A report on bias that overlooks some of its own challenges

    Finally, representation. As the authors have acknowledged themselves, it is hard to ignore that the authorship team comprises four men, three of which are senior and white. This matters, not as a criticism of the individuals involved, but because who examines AI uptake shapes how issues of bias, fairness and inclusion are framed. Generative AI systems are widely acknowledged as being trained on text that contains gendered, racialised and geographical biases; the report also notes that: “Concerns of bias and inaccuracy related to GenAI tools are widely acknowledged…” What is less evident, however, is a deeper engagement with how these biases might play out within a national research assessment exercise that already shows uneven outcomes for different groups.

    A similar issue arises in the dataset. Half of the interviewees were from Russell Group institutions, despite the Russell Group representing around 15 per cent of REF-submitting HEIs. The report itself notes that experimentation with AI is concentrated in well-resourced institutions: “Variation in experimentation with GenAI tools is mainly influenced… by institutional resource capacity.”

    Given this, the weighting of the sample will skew the perspectives represented. This does not necessarily invalidate the findings, but it does raise questions about whether further, broader consultation would strengthen confidence in the conclusions drawn.

    Doing it better?

    The report does an excellent job of surfacing current institutional anxieties. Larger, well-resourced universities appear more open to integrating AI into REF processes; others are more cautious. Survey findings suggest notable scepticism among academics, particularly in Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences. Despite this, the report signals a direction of travel in which REF “inevitably” becomes AI-enabled and eventually “fully automated.” Whether this future is desirable, or indeed equitable, remains an open question.

    The REF-AI report is therefore best read as an important starting point. For the next phase, it will be vital that Research England broadens the conversation to include a wider diversity of voices, including experts in equality and inclusion, disciplinary communities concerned about long-term skills, those with deep experience in RRA, smaller institutions, and early career researchers who will inherit whatever system emerges.

    This more diverse team must be given licence to make bold decisions about not just what’s inevitable but what’s desirable for the research ecosystem the REF ultimately seeks to monitor and shape. We cannot simply pay lip service to principles of responsible research assessment, equity, diversity and inclusion, and ignore the resulting outcomes of the decision-making processes shaped by those principles.

    AI will undoubtedly shape aspects of future research governance and assessments. The challenge, now, is to ensure that its integration reflects sector values, not just technological possibility.

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  • Trinity College bans political activism over chalkboard messages

    Trinity College bans political activism over chalkboard messages

    Imagine wearing an “I Voted” sticker to class and having the school investigate you for it. Or handing out pocket editions of the Constitution on campus for Constitution Day, only for your school to deem this disruptive.

    Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Juneteenth. Labor Day. Columbus Day. Connecticut’s Trinity College seemingly prohibits on-campus celebrations of all these federal holidays. (Don’t even get us started on t-shirts that read “Reagan-Bush 1984” or “Nevertheless, She Persisted.”)

    On November 7, individuals identifying with Students and Faculty for Justice in Palestine left chalkboard messages around campus while classes were out of session. These messages read, “Trinity is suppressing freedom of assembly,” “Disclose Divest Protest,” “Trinity Invests in Genocide,” “You are on stolen land,” and “Free Palestine.” 

    Message left by Students and Faculty for Justice in Palestine on a chalkboard in Seabury Hall. (@sfjp_trin / Instagram.com)

    That evening, Trinity President Daniel Lugo emailed the campus community, announcing an investigation of the messages for disruption, intimidation, and harassment. Then came the anti-speech money quote: “Our Student Handbook and employment policies clearly prohibit political activism within academic settings.”

    No nuance. No qualifiers. Just a blanket ban on political activism anywhere “academic.”

    There’s only one problem. FIRE couldn’t find any such rule. In fact, Trinity’s official policies affirm the importance of free expression and academic freedom, and — to its credit — the school’s time, place, and manner rules largely track First Amendment standards. Although Trinity is a private college and not legally required to protect students’ First Amendment rights, it laudably promises to uphold students’ expressive freedom in its policies. So last week, FIRE wrote to Lugo, urging him to make good on these commitments.

    FIRE calls on Trinity to end its investigation into the matter and remove any existing policy prohibiting “political activism within academic settings.”

    Lugo’s letter said that the college community “deserves to teach, learn, and work in spaces free from intimidation, harassment, or disruption.” We certainly agree, but this letter errs in suggesting that the chalkboard messages should merit punishment. On the contrary, the after-hours commentary doesn’t come close to a material and substantial disruption. Even if they did, it still wouldn’t justify outlawing all political speech on campus.

    The chalkboard messages weren’t harassment either. Harassment requires content so objectively offensive, pervasive, and severe that it effectively denies students equal access to education. There is no evidence these messages rise to this level of unprotected speech.

    Nor are they intimidation. Unprotected intimidation (i.e. a true threat) requires a serious expression of intent to commit unlawful violence, and a conscious disregard of the potential for that expression to put its recipient in fear of serious physical harm. Again, nothing of the sort here.

    Viral video appears to show Trinity College singling out one student’s political dorm display for removal

    Without the freedom to express even inoffensive political convictions, the promise of free speech is meaningless. America’s colleges and universities cannot conceivably function as insulated vacuums for discussion on topics of national and international importance, especially in service of such a broad and spontaneous edict. 

    Political activism has always been part of campus life in the United States. Without it, groups from Students for a Democratic Society to Turning Point USA wouldn’t exist, and George Carlin’s most legendary, politically charged bits (including his landmark UCLA set) might never have happened.

    Trinity’s overbroad language puts America’s long and proud tradition of fostering political engagement in jeopardy, and that is cause for alarm. Accordingly, FIRE calls on Trinity to end its investigation into the matter and remove any existing policy prohibiting “political activism within academic settings.”



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  • ED Calls Civil Rights Workers It’s Trying to Ax Back to Work

    ED Calls Civil Rights Workers It’s Trying to Ax Back to Work

    Saul Loeb/AFP via Getty Images

    The Education Department is calling Office for Civil Rights employees who were fired earlier this year back to work.

    The Trump administration tried to ax half of the Education Department’s OCR staff in March, but it has been paying them not to work since then while it continues to fight litigation contesting its plan. The department says it hasn’t given up on defending that move, but now says it’s “important to refocus OCR’s work and utilize all OCR staff to prioritize OCR’s existing complaint caseload.”

    “In order for OCR to pursue its mission with all available resources, all those individuals currently being compensated by the Department need to meet their employee performance expectations and contribute to the enforcement of existing civil rights complaints,” the department said in Friday emails obtained by Inside Higher Ed. “Utilizing all OCR employees, including those currently on administrative leave, will bolster and refocus efforts on enforcement activities in a way that serves and benefits parents, students, and families.”

    One email gave an employee a Dec. 15 return date, while another said Dec. 29. It’s unclear how many workers will return. Bloomberg reported that the order went out to “more than 260,” while USA Today cited the department as saying “roughly 250,” but the Associated Press said “dozens.” Inside Higher Ed is awaiting clarification from the department.

    Rachel Gittleman, president of American Federation of Government Employees Local 252, which represents department employees, said her union hasn’t been told how many workers in its bargaining unit received the email. She said in a statement Monday that “while we are relieved these public servants are finally being allowed to return to work, Education Secretary Linda McMahon has made clear that she would rather play politics than uphold her responsibility to protect students’ rights.”

    “For more than nine months, hundreds of employees at the Office for Civil Rights (OCR) have been sidelined from the critical work of protecting our nation’s most vulnerable students and families,” Gittleman said. She said the administration’s actions keeping these employees out of work and on leave “wasted more than $40 million in taxpayer funds.”

    “By blocking OCR staff from doing their jobs, Department leadership allowed a massive backlog of civil rights complaints to grow, and now expects these same employees to clean up a crisis entirely of the Department’s own making,” she added.

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  • Towards an educational gain approach to TEF

    Towards an educational gain approach to TEF

    This blog was kindly authored by Johnny Rich, Chief Executive of Push and Chief Executive of the Engineering Professors’ Council.

    You can read HEPI’s other blog on the current OfS consultation here.

    The Office for Students is currently consulting on plans to use the Teaching Excellence Framework to regulate fees and student numbers. There are two problems with this. Firstly, the TEF is a poor measure of what deserves to be rewarded. Secondly, even if it weren’t, using fees as rewards will damage the higher education sector.

    Paul Ashwin has already dismantled the notion that TEF has the heft for such heavy-lifting. He correctly criticises its broad institution-wide sweep, its data time lags, its susceptibility to gaming and so on. At its heart, the TEF is largely dependent on metrics that are, at best, questionable proxies of how effectively universities perform their core educational purpose. These are then reflected in four cliff-edged, unnuanced ratings.

    Hanging fees on this hook is a weighty burden, and it’s a hook that’s stuck to a wall with Blu-Tack. 

    But before we dismiss the idea faster than a toddler being offered broccoli, it’s worth considering what it would take to make it easier to swallow. Palatable, even.

    To this end, it’s worth taking a step back. The purpose of teaching – especially excellent teaching – is surely to see that learning is achieved. And, given that the current framework relies so heavily on outcomes as the indicators of teaching excellence, surely what TEF is really trying to appraise is how well universities support learning gain.

    In the early days of TEF, until 2019, HEFCE explicitly led a hunt for a holy grail metric or algorithm for ‘learning gain’. The quest concluded that learning gain was not a simple one-dimensional thing. Rather than being an attribute of a course (let alone a whole university), it was inherently a measure of a relationship between a student and the education they receive. A function rather than a point on a graph.

    No single metric would work for different courses, different institutions and different students.

    Having one overall TEF rating per institution with little room for context creates a driver that creates risk for universities that might want to try anything new.

    Instead of universities asking themselves how their educational experience might be improved for their students, the safer question is What gets gold? Let’s copy that or Let’s stick with that.

    And instead of thinking about how they could diversify to offer something innovative to students who have been traditionally underserved by higher education, it’s less risky to try to recruit whatever students are historically most likely to succeed.

    That has a cooling effect on innovation and diversity in the sector, especially when coupled with the effect of rankings, which drive institutions to emulate the so-called ‘best’ and to count what’s measured rather than measure what counts, as Prof Billy Wong brilliantly explained in his recent HEPI blog. It is ironic that one effect of the marketisation of higher education has been to increase homogeneity across the sector, rather than competition driving universities to seek out niches.

    We need to return to the quest for a multi-dimensional measure of learning gain – or, as it is now being called, ‘educational gain’ – the distance travelled by the student in partnership with their institution. Prof Wong’s blog accompanied the publication of a paper outlining just such a new approach. This – or something similar – could give the OfS the load-bearing hook it wants.

    In the spirit of offering solutions, not just criticisms of the OfS’s plans, I propose that, instead of a TEF with stakes stacked high like a poker chips, the OfS could define a ‘suite’ of metrics (most of which already exist and some of which are already used by the TEF) that it would regard as valid measures of different dimensions of educational gain. These would be benchmarked by socio-economic background, region, discipline mix – or whatever is relevant to the metric in question.

    Each institution regulated by the OfS would need to state which measures from the suite it thinks should be used to judge its educational gain. Some would veer towards employment metrics, others would champion access and value-added, and others would aim for progression to further study as a goal. Most, I suspect, would pursue their own multi-faceted mix.

    Whatever selection they make would be based on the institution’s mission and they would not only have to say which measures should be used, but what targets they believe they should achieve.

    The OfS’s role would be, in the first instance, to assess these educational gain ‘missions’ and decide whether they are sufficiently ambitious to deserve access to fee funding and, subsequently, to assess over time whether each institution is making satisfactory progress towards its targets.

    This is not as radical it may sound. The OfS already operates a similar approach in inviting universities to define goals from a preset list in their Access and Participation Plans, although in that instance the list is made up of risks rather than targets.

    If the OfS feels the bronze/silver/gold signalling of the TEF is still important, it could still give awards based on level of achievement according to the institutions’ own sufficiently ambitious terms of success.

    This would encourage, rather than dampen, diversity. It would be forward-looking rather than relying on lagged data. And it would measure success according to a sophisticated assessment of the distance travelled both by institutions and by their students.

    If this were the hook from which OfS wanted to dangle funding carrots, it would drive excellence through each autonomous institution being encouraged to consider how to improve the education it individually offers and to chase that, instead of palely imitating familiar models.

    However, even with this educational gain-driven version of TEF, that still leaves the second problem I mentioned at the start.

    How would using the TEF to regulate fees damage the sector?

    On the one hand, ‘gold’ universities would win higher fees (relative to other institutions at least). Given they are succeeding on the fees they’re already receiving, it would seem an inefficient use of public funding to channel any more money in their direction, as apparently they don’t need it to deliver their already excellent teaching.

    On the other hand, for those universities that are struggling, a lack of financial resource may be a significant factor either in their lower assessment or in gaining ground in future. Denying funding to those that need it most would condemn them to a spiral of decline.

    The effect would be to bifurcate the system into the gold ‘haves’ and the bronze ‘have-nots’ with the distance between the two camps growing ever more distant, and the silvers walking a tightrope in between, trying to ensure they can fall on the side with the safety net.

    An education gain-based approach to TEF wouldn’t solve this problem, but – as I’ve outlined – it could provide a system to incentivise and regulate excellence that would mean the OfS doesn’t have to resort to creating a binary divide through a well-intentioned, but inefficient and unfair allocation of limited resources.

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  • Higher Education and the Culture of Silence

    Higher Education and the Culture of Silence

    American higher education presents itself as a beacon of truth, courage, and critical inquiry. Yet behind the marketing gloss lies a pervasive culture of silence—one that extends far beyond colleges and universities themselves. The same forces that suppress dissent on campus operate through a larger ecosystem of nonprofits, contractors, ed-tech companies, and “public-private partnerships” that orbit higher ed. Together, they form a network of institutional interests that reward secrecy, punish whistleblowers, and prioritize reputation and revenue over honesty and accountability.

    At the center of this system are nondisclosure agreements. NDAs are now standard tools not only in universities, but in the foundations that support them, the think tanks that shape education policy, and the ed-tech corporations that extract profit from student data and public subsidies. Whether a case involves workplace retaliation, fraudulent recruitment, financial misconduct, algorithmic harm, or student exploitation, NDAs are used to hide patterns of abuse and protect organizations from scrutiny. What gets buried is not just information—it is the possibility of reform.

    The threat of litigation is part of the same architecture. Universities, nonprofits, and ed-tech companies routinely rely on aggressive legal strategies to silence critics. Workers attempting to expose unethical contracts, deceptive marketing, or discrimination face cease-and-desist letters. Researchers who publish unflattering findings are pressured to retract or soften their conclusions. Students raising alarms about data privacy or predatory practices encounter legal intimidation disguised as “professional communication.” These organizations—flush with donor money, investor capital, or public funds—use lawsuits and threats of lawsuits as shields and weapons.

    Leadership across this broader ecosystem is often weak, conflicted, or corrupt. University presidents beholden to trustees are mirrored by nonprofit executives beholden to major donors, and by ed-tech CEOs beholden to venture capital. Many leaders prioritize political favor, philanthropic relationships, and corporate growth over the public interest. They outsource accountability to law firms, PR agencies, and consulting outfits whose job is not to fix problems but to bury them.

    And circulating through this system is the same cast of characters: politicians chasing influence, lawyers crafting airtight silence, consultants selling risk-mitigation strategies, bean counters manipulating data, and conmen repackaging failed ideas as “innovation.” The lines between nonprofit, corporate, and educational interests have blurred to the point of erasure. Trustees who shape campus policy sit on nonprofit boards. Ed-tech companies hire former university officials and then market themselves back to campuses. Donors direct funds through philanthropic intermediaries that simultaneously pressure institutions for access and silence.

    The victims of this system—faculty, staff, gig workers in tech and nonprofit roles, graduate students, undergraduates, and even the communities surrounding campuses—are pressured to comply. They face retaliation in the form of job loss, non-renewal, demotion, academic penalties, professional blacklisting, or immigration vulnerabilities. Whistleblowers are isolated. Critics are surveilled. And when the fallout becomes too public to contain, institutions rely on payouts—quiet settlements, buyouts, and confidential agreements that allow perpetrators to move seamlessly to their next institution or company.

    This culture of silence is not a collection of isolated incidents. It is a structural feature of modern higher education and the industries built around it.

    But it is not unbreakable.

    If you have experienced or witnessed this culture—whether in a university, a higher-ed nonprofit, or the ed-tech world—the Higher Education Inquirer invites you to share your story. You may do so publicly or anonymously. We understand the risks. We know many people cannot speak openly without jeopardizing their jobs, degrees, or health. Anonymous accounts are welcome, valued, and protected.

    Your story, no matter how brief, can help illuminate the patterns that institutions spend billions to obscure. Silence is what sustains the system. Truth—shared safely and collectively—is what can dismantle it.


    Sources

    • Elisabeth Rosenthal, An American Sickness

    • Alondra Nelson, Body and Soul

    • Harriet A. Washington, Medical Apartheid

    • Rebecca Skloot, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

    • Reporting from the Higher Education Inquirer on university corruption, NDAs, donor influence, and ed-tech abuses

    • Investigations into nonprofit and ed-tech misconduct published in public records, court filings, and independent journalism

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  • Conservative Think Tank AEI Names Ben Sasse Senior Fellow

    Conservative Think Tank AEI Names Ben Sasse Senior Fellow

    The American Enterprise Institute, a prominent conservative-leaning think tank, has named former U.S. senator and university president Ben Sasse a nonresident senior fellow, AEI announced Friday. Its website says his work there will focus on “higher education, innovation, technology, American history and culture, and national security.”

    Sasse’s AEI post and his continuing voice at other major conservative institutions—The Wall Street Journal has run at least three op-eds by him this year, including one calling on university board members across the country to stand up to faculty “radicals” and “encourage greater intellectual diversity”—shows he’s not persona non grata after his abrupt exit from the University of Florida last year.

    Sasse attributed his resignation from UF to his wife’s health, though the student newspaper, The Independent Florida Alligator, has reported the board may have forced him out. During the first year of his roughly 18-month presidency, his office spent more than $17 million. Sasse denied wrongdoing and argued that driving new initiatives at UF required major investments.

    Sasse, a Republican who represented Nebraska in the Senate, remains a professor in UF’s Hamilton Center for Classical and Civic Education. He previously was president of Midland University.

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