Tag: Americas

  • Sparking civic engagement as we approach America’s 250th

    Sparking civic engagement as we approach America’s 250th

    Key points:

    Imagine students who understand how government works and who see themselves as vital contributors to their communities. That’s what happens when students are given opportunities to play a role in their school, district, and community. In my work as a teacher librarian, I have learned that even the youngest voices can be powerful, and that students embrace civic responsibility and education when history is taught in a way that’s relevant and meaningful. 

    Now is the moment to build momentum and move our curriculum forward. It’s time to break past classroom walls and unite schools and communities. As our nation’s 250th anniversary approaches, education leaders have a powerful opportunity to teach through action and experience like never before. 

    Kids want to matter. When we help them see themselves as part of the world instead of watching it pass by, they learn how to act with purpose. By practicing civic engagement, students gain the skills to contribute solutions–and often offer unique viewpoints that drive real change. In 2023, I took my students [CR1] to the National Mall. They were in awe of how history was represented in stone, how symbolism was not always obvious, and they connected with rangers from the National Park Service as well as visitors in D.C. that day. 

    When students returned from the Mall, they came back with a question that stuck: “Where are the women?” In 2024, we set out to answer two questions together: “Whose monuments are missing?” and “What is HER name?” 

    Ranger Jen at the National Mall, with whom I worked with before, introduced me to Dr. Linda Booth Sweeney, author of Monument Maker, which inspired my approach. Her book asks, “History shapes us–how will we shape history?” Motivated by this challenge, students researched key women in U.S. history and designed monuments to honor their contributions. 

    We partnered with the Women’s Suffrage National Monument, and some students even displayed their work at the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument. Through this project, questions were asked, lessons were learned, and students discovered the power of purpose and voice. By the end of our community-wide celebration, National Mall Night, they were already asking, “What’s next?” 

    The experience created moments charged with importance and emotion–moments students wanted to revisit and replicate as they continue shaping history themselves. 

    Reflecting on this journey, I realized I often looked through a narrow lens, focusing only on what was immediately within my school. But the broader community, both local and online, is full of resources that can strengthen relationships, provide materials, and offer strategies, mentors, and experiences that extend far beyond any initial lesson plan. 

    Seeking partnerships is not a new idea, but it can be easily overlooked or underestimated. I’ve learned that a “no” often really means “not yet” or “not now,” and that persistence can open doors. Ford’s Theatre introduced me to Ranger Jen, who in turn introduced me to Dr. Sweeney and the Trust for the National Mall. When I needed additional resources, the Trust for the National Mall responded, connecting me with the new National Mall Gateway: a new digital platform inspired by America’s 250th that gives all students, educators and visitors access to explore and connect with history and civics through the National Mall. 

    When I first shared the Gateway with students, it took their breath away. They could reconnect with the National Mall–a place they were passionate about–with greater detail and depth. I now use the platform to teach about monuments and memorials, to prepare for field trips, and to debrief afterward. The platform brings value for in-person visits to the National Mall, and for virtual field trips in the classroom, where they can almost reach out and touch the marble and stone of the memorials through 360-degree video tours. 

    Another way to spark students’ interest in civics and history is to weave civic learning into every subject. The first step is simple but powerful: Give teachers across disciplines the means to integrate civic concepts into their lessons. This might mean collaborating with arts educators and school librarians to design mini-lessons, curate primary sources, or create research challenges that connect past and present. It can also take shape through larger, project-based initiatives that link classroom learning to real-world issues. Science classes might explore the policies behind environmental conservation, while math lessons could analyze community demographics or civic data. In language arts, students might study speeches, letters, or poetry to see how language drives change. When every subject and resource become hubs for civic exploration, students begin to see citizenship as something they live, not just study. 

    Students thrive when their learning has purpose and connection. They remember lessons tied to meaningful experiences and shared celebrations. For instance, one of our trips to the National Mall happened when our fourth graders were preparing for a Veterans Day program with patriotic music. Ranger Jen helped us take it a step further, building on previous partnerships and connections–she arranged for the students to sing at the World War II Memorial. As they performed “America,” Honor Flights unexpectedly arrived. The students were thrilled to sing in the nation’s capital, of course. But the true impact came from their connection with the veterans who had lived the history they were honoring. 

    As our nation approaches its 250th anniversary, we have an extraordinary opportunity to help students see themselves as part of the story of America’s past, present, and future.

    Encourage educator leaders to consider how experiential civics can bring this milestone to life. Invite students to engage in authentic ways, whether through service-learning projects, policy discussions, or community partnerships that turn civic learning into action. Create spaces in your classes for collaboration, reflection, and application, so that students are shaping history, not just studying it. Give students more than a celebration. Give them a sense of purpose and belonging in the ongoing story of our nation. 

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  • how fear reshaped America’s appeal to international students

    how fear reshaped America’s appeal to international students

    One year into Donald Trump’s second presidency, the most consequential outcome for international students has not been a single policy, executive order or visa restriction. It’s been the creation of a pervasive climate of fear and the lasting reputational damage that fear inflicted on the United States as a destination for global talent.

    American universities are accustomed to planning around policy change. They model visa delays, compliance shifts and regulatory risk. What they are far less equipped to manage is a climate where uncertainty itself shapes decision-making. Over the past year, that uncertainty has influenced how the US is perceived long before any student applies for a visa or boards a plane.

    And that uncertainty has carried more weight than legislation. 

    Fear without formal policy

    While many expected sweeping changes to student visas or post-graduate work pathways, the administration’s strongest signals emerged elsewhere – in its posture toward universities and the way campuses were publicly framed.

    As universities became targets of ideological suspicion, perceptions shifted well beyond US borders. For international students and their families, studying in America increasingly feels exposed to political risk, even in the absence of formal restrictions.

    That perception has produced tangible effects. Advisors report students asking whether participating in protests could jeopardise their immigration status. Parents seek reassurance that academic disagreement will not trigger scrutiny. Even when the legal answer remains unchanged, the persistence of these questions points to a deeper erosion of trust.

    When campuses are portrayed as adversaries rather than civic institutions, international audiences take note

    Universities as America’s ambassadors

    For decades, America’s universities were among the country’s most effective ambassadors. Long before students arrived in Washington, they arrived in Berkeley, Boston, Chicago and Austin.

    They experienced open debate, academic freedom, pluralism, and the idea that disagreement was not just tolerated but valued. Higher education was one of the few arenas where America’s democratic ideals were not merely stated but lived.

    That role mattered. International alumni carried those experiences home with them, shaping how the United States was understood long after graduation. Universities helped project stability, openness and institutional strength in ways few government programs ever could.

    During Trump’s presidency, that ambassadorial function has weakened. Education begins to look like a liability – and when campuses are portrayed as adversaries rather than civic institutions, international audiences take note. 

    Reputational damage travels faster than reform

    The challenge for the US now is that reputational damage moves faster than policy repair. Even if no new restrictions are introduced, trust doesn’t automatically return. Students make decisions years in advance, guided by word of mouth, social media, and the experiences of peers.

    The UK’s experience after the Brexit referendum offers a cautionary parallel. Applications plateaued well before any formal change to student mobility rules took effect. The perception of hostility alone was enough to shift behavior. The US risks repeating that pattern, particularly as competitor countries work actively to position themselves as stable and welcoming alternatives.

    This matters not only for enrolment numbers, but for the long-term talent pipeline. We know that international students contribute to research, innovation and local economies. Many stay, building companies, staffing laboratories and strengthening entire sectors. When they choose other destinations, the loss compounds over time.

    Less visible, but no less consequential, is the effect this environment has on universities themselves. Many institutions have become more cautious in how they communicate and more guarded in how they engage publicly. Time and attention that once supported international partnerships or student-facing programs are being pulled toward risk management and internal review. These changes rarely register in enrolment data at first, yet they alter how campuses feel to prospective students. For those arriving from abroad, a campus that appears hesitant or constrained is harder to trust.

    What rebuilding trust requires

    The United States remains home to many of the world’s strongest universities. That foundation still exists, but prestige alone cannot offset fear. One year into this presidency, American universities are discovering that reputation alone is no longer enough to secure global confidence.

    Looking ahead to a potential second Trump term, the lesson is not merely about revisiting old policies but about confronting accumulated damage. Even without new restrictions, trust once broken is slow to rebuild. 

    Universities and policymakers must recognise that restoring America’s standing will require more than reversing executive orders. It will require clear commitments to due process, institutional autonomy and the principle that education is not a security threat.

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  • Is North America’s scramble for TNE over?

    Is North America’s scramble for TNE over?

    Jason E. Lane is one of the founders of the Cross-Border Education Research Team, which has been monitoring the transnational education (TNE) sector since 2010. According to its data, the United States is the top player – it has 97 overseas campuses. In comparison, Canada fields just eight.

    Opening a satellite location is not for the faint of heart. TNE often requires significant financial investments, which can evaporate if the school fails to attract students or runs into political trouble in the host country.

    “There are a range of challenges,” Lane said. “These include maintaining the quality of teaching and offering the types of educational experiences that are available on the main campus.”

    Some top American schools, including Harvard and Princeton, have declined to pursue the TNE model, instead relying on partnerships to build their international profiles.

    While America remains the leader, Australia, with a population of just 27 million people, punches far above its weight, with 24 satellite campuses.

    “Australia has a long history of being internationally engaged,” Lane said. “They looked at their own slowly growing population base and decided to expand overseas. It’s part of a longer term strategy of internationalisation.”

    There are a range of challenges… These include maintaining the quality of teaching and offering the types of educational experiences that are available on the main campus
    Jason E. Lane, Cross-Border Research Team

    Recently, some universities have backtracked on their commitment to foreign campuses. Last year, Texas A&M University announced that it was closing its 20-year-old campus in Qatar to focus on its core work in the United States. Board chair Bill Mahomes said the school “did not necessarily need a campus infrastructure 8,000 miles away to support education and research collaboration”.

    In August, the University of Calgary shuttered its Qatar site after providing training to local learners there for many years. It provided no reason for the decision and did not respond to a request for more information.

    For David Robinson, the executive director of the Canadian Association of University Teachers, the answer is clear: “In the end, as Calgary’s experience shows, I think branch campuses have largely turned out to be a failed business model.”

    Robinson said the association had “for many years” raised concerns about institutions setting up campuses in parts of the world where academic freedom might not be upheld or respected in the same way as it would in Canada.

    Academic freedom worries are also prevalent in the US, Lane told The PIE News. “A lot of US campuses have gotten into establishing foreign campuses while wanting guarantees of academic freedom. But those countries may have different definitions of academic freedom.”

    Overseas campuses serve a wide range of students. In some cases, especially in the Middle East, satellites enrol only local or regional learners.

    Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, has had a site at a castle in England for 30 years; many of the students attending are on a semester or year abroad from the Canadian campus.

    Others leverage their overseas satellites to attract attendees from across the globe. Webster University, based in St. Louis, Missouri, has operations in several locations, including Geneva.

    It offers a seamless transition between taking courses there and at the US campus. The Swiss school draws students from many countries; diverse classes prepare students to work with people from a wide variety of backgrounds.

    New campuses are now reflecting shifts in the global geopolitical alignment, Lane says. After Hungary tilted to the right and fell into the Russia-China orbit, Fudan University of Shanghai opened a satellite in that country.

    With its growing population and improving economic development, Africa is increasingly viewed as a potential market. Currently, universities from the United States, United Kingdom, France and Netherlands have satellites on the African continent.

    The post Is North America’s scramble for TNE over? appeared first on The PIE News.

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  • Oil, Crypto, and the Struggle for Latin America’s Universities

    Oil, Crypto, and the Struggle for Latin America’s Universities

    Latin America—a region of thirty-three countries stretching from Mexico through Central and South America and across the Caribbean—has spent more than a century fighting against foreign exploitation. Its universities, which should anchor local prosperity, cultural autonomy, and democratic life, have instead been repeatedly reshaped by foreign corporations, U.S. government interests, global lenders, and now crypto speculators. Yet the region’s history is also defined by persistent, courageous resistance, led overwhelmingly by students, faculty, and Indigenous communities.

    Understanding today’s educational crisis in Latin America requires tracing this long arc of exploitation—and the struggle to build systems rooted in equity rather than extraction.

    1900s–1930s: Bananas, Oil, and the Rise of the “Banana Republics”

    Early in the 20th century, American corporations established vast profit-making empires in Latin America. United Fruit Company—today’s Chiquita Banana—dominated land, labor, and politics across Guatemala, Honduras, and Costa Rica. Standard Oil and Texaco secured petroleum concessions in Venezuela and Ecuador, laying foundations for decades of foreign control that extracted immense wealth while leaving behind environmental devastation, as seen in Texaco’s toxic legacy in the Ecuadorian Amazon between 1964 and 1992.

    Universities were bent toward these foreign interests. Agricultural programs were geared toward serving plantation economies, not local farmers. Engineering and geological research aligned with extractive industries, not community development.

    Resistance did emerge. Student groups in Guatemala and Costa Rica formed part of early anti-oligarchic movements, linking national sovereignty to university reform. Their demands echoed global currents of democratization. Evidence of these early student-led struggles appears in archival materials and Latin American scholarship on university reform, and culminates in the influential 1918 Córdoba Manifesto in Argentina—a radical declaration that attacked oligarchic, colonial universities and demanded autonomy, co-governance, and public responsibility.

    1940s–1980s: Coups, Cold War Interventions, and the Deepening of U.S. Oil Interests

    During the Cold War, exploitation intensified. In Guatemala, the CIA-backed overthrow of democratically elected President Jacobo Árbenz in 1954 protected United Fruit’s land holdings. Universities were purged or militarized, and critical scholars were exiled or killed.

    In Chile, the 1973 overthrow of Salvador Allende—supported by American corporate giants such as ITT and Anaconda Copper—ushered in a brutal dictatorship. Under Augusto Pinochet, thousands were murdered, tortured, or disappeared, while the Chicago Boys imported radical neoliberal reforms that privatized everything, including the higher education system.

    Throughout the region, oil deals disproportionately favored American companies. Mexico and Venezuela saw petroleum wealth siphoned off through arrangements that benefited foreign investors while leaving universities underfunded and politically surveilled. Scholarship critical of foreign intervention was marginalized, while programs feeding engineers and economists to multinational firms were expanded.

    Student resistance reached historic proportions. Chilean students and faculty formed the core of the anti-dictatorship movement. Mexico’s students rose in 1968, demanding democracy and university autonomy before being massacred in Tlatelolco. CIA declassified documents reveal that student uprisings across Latin America in the early 1970s were so widespread that U.S. intelligence considered them a regional threat.

    1990s–2000s: Neoliberalism, Privatization, and the Americanization of Higher Education

    In the 1990s, neoliberalism swept the region under pressure from Washington, the IMF, and the World Bank. After NAFTA, Mexico’s universities became increasingly aligned with corporate labor pipelines. In Brazil, Petrobras’ partnerships with American firms helped reshape engineering curricula. Private universities and for-profit models proliferated across the region, echoing U.S. higher ed corporatization.

    Hugo Chávez captured the broader sentiment of resistance when he declared that public services—including education—cannot be privatized without violating fundamental rights.

    Students fought back across Latin America. In Argentina and Brazil they contested tuition hikes and privatization. In Venezuela, the debate shifted toward whether oil revenue should fund tuition-free universities.

    Indigenous Exclusion, Racism, and the Colonial Foundations of Inequality

    One of the greatest challenges in understanding Latin American education is acknowledging the deep racial and ethnic stratification that predates U.S. exploitation but has been exacerbated by it. Countries like Ecuador, Bolivia, Peru, Mexico, Brazil, and Guatemala have large Indigenous populations that, to this day, receive the worst education—much like Native American communities relegated to underfunded reservation schools in the United States.

    Racism remains powerful. Whiter populations enjoy greater economic and educational access. University admission is shaped by class and color. These divisions are not accidental; they are a machinery of control.

    There have been important exceptions. Under President Rafael Correa, Ecuador built hundreds of new schools, including Siglo XXI and Millennium Schools, and expanded public education access. In Mexico, the 2019 constitutional reform strengthened Indigenous rights, including commitments to culturally relevant education. Bolivia—whose population is majority Indigenous—has promoted Indigenous languages, judicial systems, and education structures.

    But progress is fragile. Austerity, IMF conditionalities, and elite resistance have led to cutbacks, school closures, and renewed privatization across the region. The study you provided on Ecuador documents Indigenous ambivalence, even hostility, toward Correa’s universal education plan—revealing how colonial wounds, cultural erasure, and distrust of state power complicate reform and provide openings for divide-and-conquer strategies long exploited by ruling classes.

    These contradictions deepen when Indigenous movements—rightfully demanding no mining, no oil extraction, and protection of ancestral lands—collide with leftist governments reliant on resource extraction to fund public services. This tension is especially acute in Ecuador and Bolivia.

    2010s–Present: Crypto Colonialism and a New Frontier of Exploitation

    Cryptocurrency has opened a new chapter in Latin America’s long history of foreign-driven experimentation. El Salvador’s adoption of Bitcoin in 2021, promoted by President Nayib Bukele, transformed the country into a speculative test lab. Bukele has now spent more than $660 million in U.S. dollars on crypto, according to investigative reporting from InSight Crime. Universities rushed to create blockchain programs that primarily serve international investors rather than Salvadoran students.

    In Venezuela, crypto became a survival tool amid hyperinflation and economic collapse. Yet foreign speculators profited while universities starved. Student groups warned that crypto research was being weaponized to normalize economic chaos and distract from public-sector deterioration.

    Resistance has grown. Salvadoran students have protested the Bitcoin law, demanding that public resources focus on infrastructure, health, and education. Venezuelan students call for rebuilding social programs rather than chasing speculative financial technologies.

    Contemporary Student Resistance: 2010s–2020s

    Across the region, student movements remain powerful. The Chilean Winter of 2011–2013 demanded free, quality public education and challenged Pinochet’s neoliberal legacy. The movement culminated in the 2019 uprising, where education reform was central.

    Mexico’s UNAM students continue to resist corruption, tuition hikes, gender violence, and the encroachment of corporate and foreign interests. The 1999–2000 UNAM strike remains one of the longest in modern higher education.

    Colombian students have forced governments to negotiate and invest billions in public universities, framing their struggle as resistance to neoliberal austerity shaped by U.S. policy.

    Argentina continues to face massive austerity-driven cuts, sparking protests in 2024–2025 reminiscent of earlier waves of resistance. Uruguay’s Tupamaros movement—largely student-led—remains a historical touchstone.

    Every country in Latin America has experienced student uprisings. They reflect a truth that Paulo Freire, exiled from Brazil for teaching critical pedagogy, understood deeply: education can either liberate or oppress. Authoritarians, privatizers, and foreign capital prefer the latter, and they act accordingly.

    Today’s Regional Education Crisis

    The COVID-19 pandemic pushed the system into further crisis. Children in Latin America and the Caribbean lost one out of every two in-person school days between 2020 and 2022. Learning poverty now exceeds 50 percent. Entire generations risk permanent economic loss and civic disenfranchisement.

    Infrastructure is collapsing. Rural and Indigenous communities suffer the worst conditions. Public investment is chronically insufficient because governments are trapped in cycles of debt repayment to international lenders. Ecuador has not seen a major public-investment program in a decade, as austerity and IMF repayments dominate national budgets.

    The result is a system starved of resources and increasingly vulnerable to privatization schemes—including U.S.-style online coursework, ideological “instruction kits,” and for-profit degree mills.

    Latin American Universities as Battlegrounds for Sovereignty

    Latin America’s universities are shaped by the same forces that have dominated the region’s history: oil extraction, agribusiness, foreign capital, neoliberalism, structural racism, debt, and now crypto speculation. Yet universities have also been homes to transformation, rebellion, cultural resurgence, and hope.

    Across more than a century, students—Indigenous, Afro-descendant, mestizo, working-class—have been the region’s fiercest defenders of public education and national sovereignty. Their resistance continues today, from Quito to Buenos Aires, from Mexico City to Santiago.

    For readers of the Higher Education Inquirer, the lesson is clear: the struggle for higher education in Latin America is inseparable from the struggle for democracy, racial justice, Indigenous autonomy, and freedom from foreign domination. The region’s ruling elites and international lenders understand that an educated public is dangerous, which is why they starve, privatize, and discipline public schools. Students understand the opposite: that education is power, and that power must be reclaimed.

    The next chapter—especially in countries like Ecuador—will depend on whether students, teachers, and communities can defend public education against the dual forces that have undermined it for more than a century: privatizers and fascists.

    Sources (Selection)

    National Security Archive, CIA Declassified Documents (1971)
    InSight Crime reporting on El Salvador Bitcoin expenditures
    Luciani, Laura. “Latin American Student Movements in the 1960s.” Historia y Memoria (2019)
    The Córdoba Manifesto (1918)
    UNESCO, World Bank data on learning poverty (2024)
    Latin American studies on United Fruit, Standard Oil, Texaco/Chevron in Ecuador
    LASA Forum: Analysis of Indigenous responses to Correa’s education reforms
    Periodico UNAL: “The Student Rebellion: Córdoba and Latin America”
    Multiple regional news sources on Argentina’s 2024–2025 education protests

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  • Abbott’s blacklist: America’s tradition of branding dissent as treason

    Abbott’s blacklist: America’s tradition of branding dissent as treason

    This week, Texas Gov. Greg Abbott labeled the Council on American-Islamic Relations a foreign terrorist organization, and prohibited them from purchasing land in the state. That move doesn’t just have practical ramifications for CAIR’s ability to operate in Texas — it follows an all-too-familiar pattern in American history. In moments of perceived crisis, public officials cast unpopular ideological minorities as internal enemies, exploiting “security” concerns to trample on speech and belief. 

    CAIR is a D.C.-based, national organization whose mission is to “enhance understanding of Islam, protect civil rights, promote justice, and empower American Muslims.” CAIR has been fiercely critical of Israel and American efforts to support Israel’s military campaign in Gaza. Recently, CAIR successfully sued Abbott’s administration over executive orders that targeted pro-Palestinian campus protesters. CAIR also defended EPIC City, a Muslim-oriented development in Texas that Abbott investigated in September. 

    Against that backdrop, Abbott’s order designating CAIR cites to the organization’s protected speech and viewpoints, alleges that CAIR supports terrorism, and says they are “radical extremists” who “are not welcome in our state.” He then offers the vague assertion that CAIR wants “to forcibly impose Sharia law and establish Islam’s ‘mastership of the world.’” CAIR has since sued Abbott’s administration for the terror designation.

    Using the language of “terrorism” and “foreign enemy” is not a new tactic to quash disfavored speech. In 1918, on the heels of World War I and the ensuing anti-German and anti-Bolshevik fervor, Montana passed its Sedition Act. The Act made it a crime to “utter, print, write or publish any disloyal, profane, violent, scurrilous, contemptuous, slurring or abusive language” about the U.S. government, Constitution, flag, military, or any language “calculated to incite or inflame resistance” to federal or state authority during the war. In other words, it made criticizing the U.S. illegal. 

    Under Montana’s Sedition Act, hundreds of Montanans were arrested and 79 ultimately convicted for things as minor as making offhand anti-war remarks in a bar. One convict, Slovenian native Josef Gocevar, said “President Wilson had no business getting into this war.” He was sentenced to six years in prison. Another convict, Fay Rumsey, made the mistake of saying that he “wished the Germans would come in and clean up the U.S.” He received a two-year sentence. By proscribing one side of the debate over the war, Montana’s Sedition Act effectively criminalized dissent. 

    When First Amendment rights are at stake, such speculative connections are nowhere near sufficient to impose sweeping punishments.

    The Sedition Act also proved useful for pressuring anti-war Montanans into violating their consciences by buying war bonds. Local patriotic councils created lists of dissenters. Mobs weaponized the lists, threatening to report fellow citizens to the authorities if they did not purchase war bonds. It worked: One council boasted that Montana subscribed to war bonds at a level “far exceeding national projections.” 

    When men pressured Earnest V. Starr, an Ohio native who moved to Montana, to buy war bonds and kiss an American flag, Starr refused, stating that the flag was “nothing but a piece of cotton with a little paint on it.” Starr was sentenced to 10 years in prison and had to pay a $500 fine, which is about $9,000 in today’s dollars. Another mob threatened to lynch German immigrant Herman Bausch for refusing to buy war bonds, instead interrogating him for several hours. After Bausch admitted that he was “opposed to war” and that he would “not contribute financially to this world calamity,” he was convicted and sentenced to four years in prison.

    Dissenters during the Second World War fared similarly, particularly Jehovah’s Witnesses. Jehovah’s Witnesses are pacifists, and categorically opposed the war. Their opposition — and refusal to salute the American flag — drew accusations that they were fifth columnists, a term for a group that secretly sympathizes with the enemy. Between 1940 and 1942, there were hundreds of attacks on Jehovah’s Witnesses in the US, almost always with the support of local law enforcement. In a sick twist, Nazi Germany similarly persecuted Jehovah’s Witnesses for refusing to participate in Hitler’s patriotic exercises. Many were ultimately murdered in Nazi concentration camps. 

    The Jehovah’s Witnesses and the First Amendment

    Between 1938 and 1943, the Jehovah’s Witnesses had an astonishing 30 cases before the Supreme Court that mostly expanded First Amendment liberties. The result was a much stronger and richer jurisprudence.


    Read More

    In Minersville School District v. Gobitis (1940), the Supreme Court held that public schools did not violate the First Amendment when they compelled Jehovah’s Witnesses to salute the American flag and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Within days of the Gobitis ruling, members of the American Legion (in conjunction with the local police chief) in Richwood, West Virginia, forced Jehovah’s Witnesses to drink castor oil and march to the post office to salute the flag. Similar attacks were carried out elsewhere: Litchfield, Illinois jailed all 60 Witnesses in the town, while a mob burned a Witness building to the ground in Maine. As one Southern sheriff put it: “they’re traitors; the Supreme Court says so. Ain’t you heard?” 

    But the Jehovah’s Witnesses persevered. Only three years after the Gobitis-inspired fervor, the Supreme Court reversed course. In West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette (1943), the Court overruled Gobitis, famously holding that the government cannot “prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion, or other matters of opinion.” 

    That reversal fit into a broader rethinking of how far officials can go to marginalize “disloyal” speech. Early World War I prosecutions under the federal Sedition Act ended in victories for the government. But in Abrams v. United States (1919), Justices Brandeis and Holmes cautioned in dissent that punishing unpopular dissidents for their words alone was incompatible with a free society. It took decades, but their view eventually prevailed: Brandenburg v. Ohio (1969) held that even ugly, extremist advocacy is protected unless it is intended and likely to spur imminent lawless action. The logic that undergirded Montana’s Sedition Act no longer holds water, which should make us very skeptical when today’s officials reach for “national security” to silence opposition. 

    Yet in Texas today, you can hear the same soundtrack playing underneath Abbott’s rhetoric about CAIR. He says CAIR has taken “actions . . . to support terrorism across the globe and subvert our laws through violence, intimidation and harassment” and calls them “radical extremists” who “are not welcome in our state.” That line about support for terrorism does the same work as “disloyal, profane, scurrilous . . . language” in the Montana Sedition Act: It collapses speech and advocacy into treason. Much like Gobitis’ effect on Jehovah’s Witnesses during World War II, Abbott’s decision singles out CAIR as a potential fifth column — and asks the state government to treat it as such.

    Of course, if CAIR has broken the law, state law enforcement may follow its regular processes for criminal or civil investigations. That means opening investigations based on actual evidence of legal violations, not based on a target’s viewpoints and speech. When constitutional rights are at stake, evidence like Abbott’s is too thin. For example, Abbott cites an FBI agent who claimed that CAIR was a “front group” for Hamas, but that was only one agent, 17 years ago, and the federal government (across Democratic and Republican administrations) has brought zero material support for terrorism charges against CAIR. Abbott also cites a War on Terror-era case where a judge denied CAIR’s motion to file an amicus brief. In denying the motion, the judge suggested that CAIR was connected to terrorists. But that’s not an evidence-based ruling by a judge — it’s an aside in a decision that didn’t touch the core issues of the case. When First Amendment rights are at stake, such speculative connections are nowhere near sufficient to impose sweeping punishments.

    The Montana Sedition Act and Gobitis should mark the outer boundary for what we should tolerate in a free society. States cannot demand ideological conformity from individuals, interest groups, or religious minorities to operate in their state. If a blue state banned pro-Israel or Jewish groups — claiming that those groups sponsored violations of international law by supporting the war in Gaza or violence in the West Bank — that would be just as much of a red flag for civil liberties as Abbott’s order. Whether one agrees with CAIR or not, the entire point of the First Amendment is that government officials do not get to decide which critics are patriots and which are enemies of the state.

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  • What America’s Declining Happiness Means — and How Higher Education Fits In

    What America’s Declining Happiness Means — and How Higher Education Fits In

    A recent report has sounded an alarm: happiness in the United States is falling more sharply than in almost every other developed nation. According to coverage by CBS News, Americans increasingly report loneliness, deep political division, and diminished life satisfaction. While this trend is worrying in itself, a closer look shows that it’s not just a problem of individual melancholy — it reflects a broader weakening of social structures, civic trust, and community cohesion. Historically, these phenomena have been central to the nation’s sense of coherence; now, they may be eroding.

    Historical Roots and the Social Capital Framework

    To understand the scale of what’s happening, it helps to go back. Over two decades ago, Robert D. Putnam’s seminal Bowling Alone documented a dramatic decline in American “social capital” — the network of associations, civic participation, and interpersonal trust that undergirds a functioning democracy. Putnam traced declines in everything from civic organizations to informal social gatherings, arguing that this fraying of social infrastructure had profound consequences. 

    Social capital theory provides a useful lens here: trust between citizens, engagement in local institutions, and time spent in shared civic life are not just feel‑good extras, but foundations for collective resilience.

    Later empirical work has revisited these concerns. Weiss, Paxton, Velasco, and Ressler (2018) developed a newer measure of social capital and found evidence that the decline persists. Inequality also appears to play a role: as income gaps widen, interpersonal trust tends to decrease. In research published in Finance & Development, economists found that rising inequality explained a substantial portion of the decline in social trust in the United States.

    More recently, political scientists have documented how perceived political polarization erodes social trust. In a nationally representative panel study, Amber Hye‑Yon Lee showed that when people believe their country is deeply divided, their trust in fellow citizens drops — even beyond partisan loyalties. Pew Research Center data further illustrate this generational shift: younger cohorts, raised in a more polarized and atomized society, report lower social trust than earlier generations. 

    At the same time, the digital revolution hasn’t necessarily filled the gap. Sabatini and Sarracino (2014) found that while people are more active on social media, this does not compensate for lost in-person connection — and may even undermine trust. During the COVID-19 pandemic, researchers observed increased remote communication, but also stronger political echo chambers: in a study of 41,000 Americans’ social networks, political homophily (interacting mostly with those who share one’s partisan identity) increased. 

    Well-Being, Health, and Mortality

    The decline in social trust and cohesion is not just a sociological problem — it is deeply linked to health. A growing body of epidemiological research ties subjective well‑being to longevity and mortality. For instance, a widely cited study by Lawrence, Rogers, and Wadsworth found that lower happiness is associated with higher all‑cause mortality risk in U.S. adults. In another longitudinal study, researchers followed more than 30,000 adults over 14 years and found that individuals with low life satisfaction lived, on average, 8–10 years less than those with high satisfaction — even after controlling for sociodemographic and behavioral variables. 

    These findings suggest that declining happiness is not just a matter of mental distress or cultural malaise — it translates into concrete health inequities and life expectancy gaps.

    Recent Trends and the Global Context

    Over the past decade, the United States has slid in global happiness rankings, according to the World Happiness Report. Some analyses suggest that the U.S. now falls behind peer nations on measures of life evaluation, meaning that Americans are increasingly less satisfied with their lives in a broad, reflective sense. 

    Meanwhile, epidemiological studies of happy life expectancy — the number of years people spend in a state of subjective well‑being — show that although well-being improved from 1970–2000, gains were uneven by race and gender. The recent reversal or stagnation in happiness is thus especially alarming in light of these prior gains.

    The Role of Higher Education: Past, Present, and Potential Futures

    Given this historical and empirical context, higher education institutions have a complex and potentially pivotal role in responding to declining well-being.

    On one hand, universities could help rebuild social capital. Institutions of higher learning have unique capacity to foster cross-partisan civic engagement, to embed community-building in pedagogy, and to support students’ social and emotional development. By investing in mental health infrastructure, peer networks, and service-based learning, colleges could act as local laboratories for restoring trust and social cohesion.

    Higher education also has a research function: universities can produce evidence about what strengthens well-being, what interventions mitigate loneliness or political fragmentation, and how different models of community engagement impact long-term health outcomes. Through partnerships with public policy institutions, universities can help translate these findings into programs that bolster social infrastructure outside campus walls.

    However, higher education also runs risks. If institutions remain fragmented, politically polarized, or focused on prestige rather than public mission, they may contribute to social fragmentation rather than healing it. Elite universities, in particular, may be perceived as disconnected from broader communities, undermining trust rather than reinforcing it. In such a scenario, higher education may reproduce the very inequalities and isolation that are driving declining well‑being.

    Moreover, without deliberate strategies, campus networks may reinforce echo chambers: social connections among students may mirror broader partisan divides, especially in environments where political homogeneity is common.

    Health Equity Implications

    The decline in American happiness intersects directly with issues of health equity. Lower well-being and eroded trust disproportionately affect marginalized communities — those with fewer economic resources, less social support, and weaker civic infrastructure. When universities take an active role in promoting well-being and rebuilding social capital, they not only support individual students but may contribute to reducing structural health disparities.

    Conversely, if higher education plays a passive role, or if access to supportive, socially rich campus environments is limited to privileged groups, the decline in happiness may deepen existing inequities. The gap in life expectancy tied to subjective well-being suggests that we cannot ignore the social determinants of happiness: economic inequality, community fragmentation, political polarization, and institutional trust all matter.

    A Call to Action

    To address this crisis, higher education leaders, policymakers, and public health practitioners should consider the following:

    1. Reinforce community-building: Colleges should invest in programs that promote cross-group interaction, civic participation, and social trust.

    2. Prioritize mental health: Expand counseling, peer support, and proactive well-being initiatives, especially for students who might otherwise fall through the cracks.

    3. Align research with public value: Fund and promote research on social cohesion, well-being interventions, and the relationship between trust and health, and ensure that findings inform public policy.

    4. Foster institutional humility and outreach: Universities should engage with local communities, not as isolated centers of prestige, but as partners in building social infrastructure and resilience.

    5. Measure what matters: Beyond graduation rates and research output, institutions should track well-being metrics — social trust, belonging, mental health — as central indicators of their impact.

    It Doesn’t Have to Be This Bad 

    The decline in happiness across the United States is not a passing phase or a matter of individual pathology. Rather, it reflects deep shifts in social trust, political cohesion, and community infrastructure. Historically, scholars like Putnam sounded the alarm on social capital’s erosion. Today, health researchers warn that falling well‑being shortens lives and exacerbates inequalities.

    Higher education, if reoriented toward building connections, purpose, and trust, could play a vital role in reversing this trajectory. But if universities remain inward-looking or inequality-driven, they risk accelerating the very forces that undermine societal well-being. The stakes are high — not only for individual students, but for the future health and cohesion of the nation.

    Scholarly Sources:

    • Lee, Amber H. Y. “Social Trust in Polarized Times: How Perceptions of Political Polarization Affect Americans’ Trust in Each Other.” Political Behavior, 2022. PMC

    • Weiss, Inbar, Pamela Paxton, Kristopher Velasco, and Robert W. Ressler. “Revisiting Declines in Social Capital: Evidence from a New Measure.” Social Indicators Research, 2018. PMC

    • Lawrence, Elizabeth M., Richard G. Rogers, and Tim Wadsworth. “Happiness and Longevity in the United States.” Social Science & Medicine, 2015. PMC

    • Study on life satisfaction and mortality (14-year follow-up): PMC

    • Research on income inequality and trust: “In Equality, We Trust” (IMF / Finance & Development) IMF

    • Study of happy life expectancy, 1970–2000: PMC

    • Putnam, Robert D. Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. (on social capital history) Wikipedia+1

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  • Higher Education Inquirer : America’s Creepiest College Presidents

    Higher Education Inquirer : America’s Creepiest College Presidents

     Across the United States, a quiet but unmistakable chill has settled over many college campuses. It isn’t the weather. It’s the behavior of a particular class of leaders—the college presidents whose decisions, priorities, and public personas have begun to feel, for lack of a better word, creepy. Not criminal, necessarily. Not always abusive in the legal sense. Just profoundly unsettling in ways that undermine trust, erode shared governance, and push higher education further into the shadows of authoritarianism and corporate capture.

    This piece introduces criteria for what makes a college president “creepy,” highlights examples of the types of leaders who fit the mold, and invites reader feedback to build a more accountable public record.

    Criteria for a “Creepy” College President

    “Creepy” here is not about personality quirks. It’s about behavior, power, and material consequences. Based on the reporting and analysis at HEI, we propose the following criteria:


    1. First Amendment Hostility

    Presidents who suppress speech, restrict student journalism, punish dissent, or hide behind overbroad “time, place, and manner” rules fall squarely into this category. The creepiness intensifies when universities hire outside PR firms or surveillance contractors to monitor campus critics, including students and faculty.

    2. Student Rights Violations

    Presidents who treat students as risks rather than people, who hide data on assaults, who enable over-policing by campus security, or who weaponize conduct codes to silence protest movements—from Palestine solidarity groups to climate activists—fit the profile.

    3. Civil Rights Erosion

    Administrators who undermine Title IX protections, retaliate against whistleblowers, protect abusive coaches, or ignore discrimination complaints are not just negligent—they’re institutionally creepy. Their public statements about “inclusion” often ring hollow when compared with their actions behind closed doors.

    4. Worker Rights Suppression

    Union busting. Outsourcing. Wage stagnation. Anti-transparency tactics. Presidents who preach community while crushing collective bargaining efforts, freezing staff pay, or firing outspoken employees through “restructuring” deserve a place on any such list.

    5. Climate Denial or Delay

    Presidents who sign glossy climate pledges yet continue fossil-fuel investments, partner with extractive corporations, or suppress environmental activism on campus epitomize a uniquely twenty-first-century creepiness: a willingness to sacrifice future generations to maintain donor relationships and boardroom comfort.

    Examples: The Multi-Modal Creep Typology

    Rather than name only individuals—something readers can help expand—we outline several recognizable types. These composites reflect the emerging patterns seen across U.S. higher education.

    The Surveillance Chancellor

    Obsessed with “campus safety,” this president quietly expands the university’s security apparatus: license plate readers at entrances, contracts with predictive-policing vendors, facial recognition “pilots,” and backdoor relationships with state or federal agencies. Their speeches emphasize “community,” but their emails say “monitoring.”

    The Union-Busting Visionary

    This leader talks the language of innovation and social mobility while hiring anti-union law firms to intimidate graduate workers and dining staff. Their glossy strategic plans promise “belonging,” but their HR memos rewrite job classifications to avoid paying benefits.

    The Donor-Driven Speech Regulator

    Terrified of upsetting trustees, corporate sponsors, or wealthy alumni, this president cracks down on student protests, bans certain speakers, or manipulates disciplinary procedures to neutralize campus activism. They invoke “civility” while undermining the First Amendment.

    The DEI-Washing Chief Executive

    This president loves diversity statements—for marketing. Meanwhile, they ignore racial harassment complaints, target outspoken faculty of color, or cut ethnic studies under the guise of “realignment.” Their commitment to equity is perfectly proportional to the next accreditation review.

    The Climate Hypocrite

    At Earth Day, they pose with solar panels. In the boardroom, they argue that divesting from fossil fuels is “unrealistic.” Student climate groups often face administrative smothering, and sustainability staffers are rotated out when they ask uncomfortable questions.

    Why “Creepiness” Matters

    Creepy leaders normalize:

    • an erosion of democratic rights on campus,

    • the quiet expansion of surveillance,

    • the targeting of vulnerable students and workers, and

    • a form of managerial governance that undermines the public purpose of higher education.

    Higher education is supposed to be a refuge for inquiry, dissent, creativity, and collective imagination. Presidents who govern through fear—whether subtle or overt—pose a deeper threat than those who merely mismanage budgets. They hollow out the civic core of academic life.

    A Call for Reader Feedback

    HEI is building a more comprehensive and accountable registry of America’s Creepiest College Presidents, and we want your help.

    • Who on your campus fits these criteria?

    • Which presidents (past or present) deserve examination?

    • What specific stories, patterns, or documents should be highlighted?

    • What additional criteria should be added for future reporting?

    Send your confidential tips, analyses, and suggestions. Together, we can shine light into administrative corners that have remained dark for far too long.

    Higher Education Inquirer welcomes further input and encourages readers to share this article with colleagues, student groups, labor organizers, and university newspapers.

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  • America’s first free speech crisis — the Sedition Act of 1798

    America’s first free speech crisis — the Sedition Act of 1798

    We’re joined by award-winning author, Charles (Charlie)
    Slack    , to discuss his book,
    Liberty’s First Crisis: Adams, Jefferson and the Misfits Who Saved
    Free Speech    .

    Slack focuses on the infamous
    Sedition Act of 1798    , which sparked the first major
    controversy over freedom of speech in America.

    Timestamps:

    00:00 Intro (including note about Charlie Kirk)

    03:59 Book origins

    12:05 What were the Alien and Sedition Acts?

    16:00 Prosecutions under the Act and their free speech
    implications

    25:35 Free speech during the Revolutionary era

    28:14 Adams’ perspective on the Sedition Act

    46:02 Was Supreme Court Justice Samuel Chase a
    partisan hack?

    53:57 Sedition Act fallout

    01:01:02 Outro

    Enjoy listening to the podcast? Donate to FIRE today and
    get exclusive content like member webinars, special episodes, and
    more. If you became a FIRE Member
    through a donation to FIRE at thefire.org and would like access to
    Substack’s paid subscriber podcast feed, please email [email protected].

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  • 2026 College Free Speech Rankings: America’s colleges get an ‘F’ for poor free speech climate

    2026 College Free Speech Rankings: America’s colleges get an ‘F’ for poor free speech climate

    • Claremont McKenna takes the top spot, while Barnard College, Columbia University, and Indiana University come in last.
    • 166 of the 257 schools surveyed got an F for their speech climate.
    • For the first time ever, a majority of students would prevent speakers from both the left and right who express controversial views, ranging from abortion to transgender issues, from stepping foot on campus.

    WASHINGTON, D.C., Sept. 9, 2025 – If America’s colleges could earn report cards for free speech friendliness, most would deserve an “F”— and conservative students are increasingly joining their liberal peers in supporting censorship.

    The sixth annual College Free Speech Rankings, released today by the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression and survey partner College Pulse, show a continued decline in support for free speech among all students, but particularly conservatives. Students of every political persuasion show a deep unwillingness to encounter controversial ideas. The survey, which is the most comprehensive look at campus expression in the country, ranked 257 schools based on 68,510 student responses to a wide array of free speech-related questions.

    The rankings come at a notable moment for free speech on college campuses: clashes over the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, a vigorous and aggressive culture of student activism, and the Trump administration’s persistent scrutiny of higher education. 

    “This year, students largely opposed allowing any controversial campus speaker, no matter that speaker’s politics,” said FIRE President and CEO Greg Lukianoff. “Rather than hearing out and then responding to an ideological opponent, both liberal and conservative college students are retreating from the encounter entirely. This will only harm students’ ability to think critically and create rifts between them. We must champion free speech on campus as a remedy to our culture’s deep polarization.”

    The best colleges for free speech

    1. Claremont McKenna College
    2. Purdue University
    3. University of Chicago
    4. Michigan Technological University
    5. University of Colorado, Boulder
    6. University of North Carolina, Greensboro
    7. Vanderbilt University
    8. Appalachian State University
    9. Eastern Kentucky University
    10. North Carolina State University

    The worst colleges for free speech

    1. Loyola University, Chicago

    2. Middlebury College

    3. New York University

    4. Boston College

    5. University of California, Davis

    6. Northeastern University

    7. University of Washington

    8. Indiana University

    9. Columbia University

    10. Barnard College

    EXPLORE THE RANKINGS

    For the second time, Claremont McKenna has claimed the top spot in the rankings. Speech controversies at the highest-rated schools are rare, and their administrations are more likely to support free speech. The schools that improved their score the most, including Dartmouth College and Vanderbilt University, worked to reform their policies and recently implemented new programs that support free speech and encourage open discourse. 

    The lowest-rated schools are home to restrictive speech policies and some of last year’s most shocking anti-free speech moments, including threats to press freedom, speaker cancellations, and the quashing of student protests.

    “Even one egregious anti-free speech incident can destroy students’ trust in their administration and cause a school to plummet in the rankings,” said FIRE Vice President of Research Angela C. Erickson. “If campus administrators, faculty, and students want to enjoy an atmosphere of trust on campus, they can start by protecting each other’s rights.”

    Other key findings from the report include:

    • 166 of the 257 schools surveyed got an F for their speech climate, while only 11 schools received a speech climate grade of C or higher.
    • Only 36% of students said that it was “extremely” or “very” clear that their administration protects free speech on campus.
    • A record 1 in 3 students now holds some level of acceptance – even if only “rarely” — for resorting to violence to stop a campus speech.
    • 53% of students say that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a difficult topic to discuss openly on campus. On 21 of the campuses surveyed, at least 75% of students said this — including 90% of students at Barnard.
    • For the first time ever, a majority of students oppose their school allowing any of the six controversial speakers they were asked about onto campus — three controversial conservative speakers and three controversial liberal ones.

    “More students than ever think violence and chaos are acceptable alternatives to peaceful protest,” said FIRE Chief Research Advisor Sean Stevens. “This finding cuts across partisan lines. It is not a liberal or conservative problem — it’s an American problem. Students see speech that they oppose as threatening, and their overblown response contributes to a volatile political climate.” 

    Explore the full rankings here.

    The Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) is a nonpartisan, nonprofit organization dedicated to defending and sustaining the individual rights of all Americans to free speech and free thought—the most essential qualities of liberty. FIRE recognizes that colleges and universities play a vital role in preserving free thought within a free society. To this end, we place a special emphasis on defending the individual rights of students and faculty members on our nation’s campuses, including freedom of speech, freedom of association, due process, legal equality, religious liberty, and sanctity of conscience.

    CONTACT 

    Katie Stalcup, Communications Campaign Manager, FIRE: 215-717-3473; [email protected] 

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  • From Non-Traditional Learners to the New Traditional Learners: Investing in America’s Future Workforce

    From Non-Traditional Learners to the New Traditional Learners: Investing in America’s Future Workforce

    Title: Online by Design: Improving Career Connection for Today’s Learners

    Authors: William Carroll and Brenae Smith

    Source: The Center for Higher Education Policy and Practice

    The Center for Higher Education Policy and Practice (CHEPP) recently published a report on building new career services and strengthening work-based learning strategies for the ever-growing share of adult, working, and online learners at institutions of higher education.

    CHEPP found that “new traditional learners”—which represent the one-third of all students who are adult learners, the two-thirds of all students who are working while in school, and the more than half that are enrolled in online courses—face increasing barriers to four-year institution’s traditional in-person career services. Research shows that work-based learning improves career and employment outcomes upon graduation, yet these opportunities are significantly difficult to pursue for online learners and working adults who cannot forgo their online status, working hours or wages to participate.

    The report introduces a taxonomy of career connection strategies which categorize effective programs that can be implemented by colleges and integrated into curriculum to better serve new traditional learners.

    Some of the key strategies outlined in the taxonomy include:

    • Workforce-aligned curriculum: Learning outcomes of a program are mapped to specific career skills and competencies.
    • Career exploration, exposure, and skills assessment: Institutions can create individualized and efficient pathways towards student career goals based on prior learning, work experience, and certifications.
    • Career services and advising: Institutions can utilize community employer partnerships to provide more meaningful resume development, professional development, and career exposure programming.
    • Work-based learning: Institutions are responsible for alleviating barriers to entry in work-based learning that affect new traditional learners, like adequate compensation, connecting students with relevant and authentic work experience, and comprehensive supports through mentorship.

    The report concludes that ultimately better data is needed on this relatively new student group and how these groups interact with career strategies. Further data will inform institutions and policymakers which strategies are most effective. CHEPP also finds that while there are substantial trade-offs when prioritizing new traditional learners, bolstering the integration and accessibility of career connection strategies will only strengthen the nation’s workforce.

    Read the full report here.

    —Harper Davis

    If you have any questions or comments about this blog post, please contact us.

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