Tag: assets

  • U.S. Universities Are National Security Assets (opinion)

    U.S. Universities Are National Security Assets (opinion)

    For too long, Americans have underestimated the strategic value of our universities. The popular belief is that higher education’s chief contribution to national security is soft power—the goodwill generated by cultural exchange, academic diplomacy and global networking. That’s accurate, but it’s only a small part of the security story.

    The vast majority of our 4,000-odd colleges and universities (including the elite ones) are hardly the ivory towers so associated with so-called woke movements and high-profile culture wars. Many, in fact, are the R&D labs of our national security infrastructure. They are the training grounds for the nation’s cyber warriors, military leaders, intelligence officers and diplomats. To be sure, they are one of America’s most potent weapons in an era of fierce geopolitical competition.

    The Reserve Officers’ Training Corps is the military’s largest commissioning source, with a footprint that spans the nation. Army ROTC alone operates at about 1,000 college campuses and provides merit-based benefits to roughly 15,000 students each year. It produces approximately 70 percent of the officers entering the Army annually, commissioning around 5,000 second lieutenants in a typical year.

    The scale is cross-service: Air Force ROTC maintains 145 host detachments with more than 1,100 partner universities and commissioned 2,109 Air Force and 141 Space Force officers in 2022. Navy/Marine Corps ROTC fields 63 units hosted at 77 colleges and extends to 160-plus colleges via cross-town agreements. Between 2011 and 2021, about 1,441 U.S. colleges and universities had at least one ROTC host, cross-town or extension unit—and every state has at least one host. Over its first century, ROTC has produced more than one million officers.

    The Department of Defense, as key partner with higher education, invests billions annually in university research. In fiscal year 2022 alone, the DOD’s research, development, test and evaluation budget authority reached $118.7 billion. For example, the Defense University Research Instrumentation Program awarded $43 million in equipment grants to 112 university researchers for the 2025 fiscal year. Entities like DARPA (the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency), the Army Research Laboratory, and the Office of Naval Research fund breakthroughs in AI, quantum computing, hypersonics and cyber resilience. Universities partner with the Defense Department and other government agencies to conduct research in areas like drone technology, stealth aircraft and, historically, the development of the Internet and GPS.

    Cybersecurity is another front where U.S. universities lead with global distinction. The National Security Agency has designated nearly 500 campuses as national Centers of Academic Excellence in Cybersecurity. Universities like Carnegie Mellon, Purdue and the University of Texas at San Antonio run advanced programs focused on cryptography, digital forensics and cyber policy, partnering with both government and industry to build systems that repel state-sponsored hackers.

    Biosecurity is equally critical. The COVID-19 pandemic proved that viruses can fundamentally destabilize economies and national morale as quickly as warfare can. Johns Hopkins, Emory, Harvard and Vanderbilt Universities all were at the forefront of research on the coronavirus and vaccines. Land-grant universities like Texas A&M and Iowa State have long been securing our food supply against agroterrorism and climate threats. As just one example of this partnership, in 2024, the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s National Institute of Food and Agriculture announced $7.6 million in grants to 12 different universities focused on agricultural biosecurity.

    Then there’s the talent pipeline. American universities train the linguists, engineers, analysts and scientists who feed the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Central Intelligence Agency, the Department of Homeland Security and the armed forces. Through partnerships with universities, the National Security Education Program, the Critical Language Scholarship and the National Security Language Initiative for Youth help produce graduates fluent in Arabic, Mandarin and Farsi—utterly essential skills for both diplomacy and national intelligence.

    Boren Scholars and Fellows are dedicated to harnessing their advanced linguistic and cultural skills within the federal government by securing a minimum of one year of employment in national security, actively strengthening the federal workforce and significantly elevating U.S. capabilities, deterrence and readiness.

    Meanwhile, China has built a centralized academic–military complex under its Military–Civil Fusion strategy. Top universities like Tsinghua and Beihang Universities are deeply integrated with the People’s Liberation Army, producing dual-use research in AI, quantum and hypersonics—technologies intended to challenge U.S. dominance. The National University of Defense Technology is a flagship institution in this network, known for dual-use supercomputing and aerospace research. This model is potent but currently lacks the kind of innovative potential of U.S. institutions.

    The U.S. system, by contrast, is decentralized, competitive and open. We often refer to this as “loose coupling”; the accompanying organizational dynamic is what enables so much of the innovative, interdisciplinary and cross-institutional work that U.S. higher education produces. But adequately funding this system is quickly becoming unsustainable and unpopular. The Trump administration is cutting funding for politically inconvenient fields—such as climate science, public health and international cooperation—and subjecting grant applications to political review. Many of these cuts target areas of academic inquiry that may appear obscure to the public but are fundamental to the foundational domains of national security. It is also worth noting that recent research suggests that the already high public and private returns to federally funded research are likely much higher than those reflected in current estimates.

    Focusing solely on weapons labs while neglecting other strategic fields is short-sighted and dangerous. Security is not merely about firepower—it’s about the stability of the knowledge-based society. Public health, basic sciences, environmental resilience, diplomacy and social cohesion are just as critical to preventing conflict as advanced missiles and cyber weapons. To be sure, our colleges and universities contribute, almost beyond measure, to the stability of U.S. civil society through each of these domains.

    Universities are not optional in the defense of this republic—they are indispensable. Undermine them and we hand our international competitors the high ground in both technology and ideas. In the contest for global leadership, the fight won’t just be won on battlefields. It will be won in classrooms, labs and libraries.

    Brian Heuser is an associate professor of the practice of international education policy at Peabody College of Vanderbilt University. For much of his career, he has worked on numerous projects related to national security education, including with the Boren Scholars Program, the former Edmund S. Muskie Graduate Fellowship Program and as a U.S. Embassy policy specialist to the Republic of Georgia.

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  • Care experienced students are assets, not risks

    Care experienced students are assets, not risks

    We have spent decades asking what support care leavers need to “catch up” in education. But what if we focused instead on what they already bring?

    Thirty years since I left the care system, I reflect on low expectations, persistent awarding gaps, and why higher education needs to reframe the care experience.

    Low expectations

    “One GCSE is enough, you’re in care”. That’s what I was told as a teenager growing up in the care system. That message stayed with me, if one GCSE was enough for someone like me, then I was not expected to succeed, I was expected to survive.

    By the time I was studying for my A levels I was living independently and worked full time. University at 18 was not an option, it was unthinkable. Years later, I found myself on a BTEC in health and social care as part of a role as a children’s rights worker, and that was where I discovered psychology.

    Suddenly, everything in my life made sense, my upbringing, my responses, the systems around me. I applied for university in 2002 and completed my first term while pregnant. At 36 I became a lecturer in education and psychology in higher education, teaching education through a psychological lens to education students, many of whom want to become teachers themselves.

    A full circle moment

    Recently, I hosted an A level psychology student for a placement. On the final day, she revealed that one of her teachers had been one of my undergraduate students. The moment was moving, not because she was care experienced (she wasn’t), or because the teacher was (they weren’t), but because it showed how my journey, rooted in care, had rippled out into the education system in ways I never imagined.

    That moment hit me like a wave. It was not just a neat coincidence, it was a full circle moment that challenged everything I had been told about my place in education.

    It reminded me that care experienced students are not simply passing through higher education as “at risk” individuals in need of support. Instead, we are contributing to it, we are building it and sometimes we are shaping the success of others in ways that last longer than we realise.

    Ditching deficit thinking

    What if we stopped asking what care experienced students lack? Too often, care leavers are described as “at risk” of exclusion, poor attainment, and drop-out. We talk about their trauma, instability, or disadvantage.

    Those challenges are real and need addressing – but rarely do we ask what strengths they bring with them. We bring resilience, not just as a feel good buzzword, but as a lived practice. We know how to manage under pressure, navigate uncertainty, and stay focused when stability is not guaranteed.

    We bring empathy, because we have seen how systems can fail people and we have learned how to listen, observe, and understand beneath the surface. We bring adaptability because when your life has taught you that plans change, support disappears, and people move on, you learn how to adjust quickly, quietly, and effectively and we bring purpose. Many of us enter education not out of expectation, but out of intent because we want to create the kind of impact we once needed. It is that intent that makes us powerful educators, mentors, and role models even for students who do not share our background.

    Within the classroom, I sometimes hear mature students described as “assets” because they bring work experience, life experience, and often support other students. Care experienced students who are appropriately nurtured and empowered bring their own strengths to their peers. They also bring different and valuable perspectives – particularly relevant to social sciences disciplines – about social inequity, systemic injustice, and resilience that can open up important conversations about theory and its relevance to the “real world” and prepare the students they learn alongside for work in a world in which they will encounter diverse and disadvantaged others.

    My time in care taught me skills that have defined my academic and professional life – I learned independence young and I developed empathy and adaptability not just emotionally, but practically, not as nice extras but as core strengths. They have helped me understand students better and helped shape the kind of lecturer I am.

    Care experienced students do not just overcome adversity, they carry rich insight, emotional intelligence, and a deep understanding of social systems and sometimes, like in my case, they help educate the people who go on to teach the next generation.

    Having said that, it’s 30 years since I left the care system – is it still the same?

    Not enough has changed

    In many ways, the system looks different today. Every looked-after child has a Personal Education Plan (PEP), schools appoint designated teachers, virtual school heads oversee progress, and there’s a £2,345 per-child annual Pupil Premium Plus. In principle, care-experienced learners are a priority. Some universities make contextual offers to care leavers in recognition of the challenges they faced on their way through the education system.

    Yet the numbers tell a different story:

    • only 37 per cent of looked-after children reach expected levels at Key Stage 2 (vs 65 per cent of peers)
    • only 7.2 per cent achieve grade 5+ in English and maths at GCSE (vs 40 per cent)
    • at age 19, just 13 per cent of care leavers enter higher education (vs 45 per cent of others).

    These gaps are not just statistical, they reflect structural inequalities, where expectations remain low and pathways to university feel closed off before they have even begun. For a care experienced student to find their way into higher education is a testament to their determination, resilience, and motivation before they even start.

    A fight not a right

    My mantra was “education was a fight not a right”. We may no longer say, “one GCSE is enough” out loud – but it is still heard in the subtext of our systems.

    We talk about “widening participation” and “belonging,” but too often, care experienced learners are left out of those conversations, or placed into categories of concern rather than capability. Recently, my ten-year-old said something that stopped me in my tracks: “children shouldn’t be judged on academic intelligence but on creative intelligence. School is more about following the rules than finding yourself.”

    They are right – the education system has moved from creativity to conformity and in doing so, we do not just risk excluding care experienced learners, we risk losing the individuality, emotional intelligence, and imaginative power that all students bring. The ones who have had to survive the most often bring innovation and creativity. When we centre care experienced voices in policy, in pedagogy, and in professional learning, we begin to close the awarding gap, the one that limits how we (and sometimes they) see their potential.

    Higher education did not just change my life. It gave me the chance to change other people’s too – and that is an opportunity we should provide to all our children.

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