Each November, while much of the United States celebrates Thanksgiving, Indigenous communities and their allies gather in Plymouth, Massachusetts, and across the country for the National Day of Mourning. It is a day that confronts the mythology of national innocence and replaces it with historical clarity. For Higher Education Inquirer, the significance of this day extends directly into the heart of American higher education—a system built, in no small part, on the expropriation of Indigenous land, the exploitation of Native Peoples, and the continued structural racism that shapes their educational opportunities today.
From the earliest colonial colleges to the flagship research institutions of the twenty-first century, U.S. higher education has never been separate from the project of settler colonialism. It has been one of its instruments.
Land, Wealth, and the Origins of the University
America’s oldest colleges—Harvard, Yale, William & Mary, Dartmouth—were founded within the colonial order that dispossessed Indigenous communities. While missionary language framed some of these institutions’ early purposes, they operated through an extractive logic: the seizure of land, the conversion of cultural worlds, and, eventually, the accumulation of immense academic wealth.
The Morrill Land-Grant Acts of 1862 and 1890 expanded this pattern on a national scale. Recent research documented by the “Land-Grab Universities” project shows that nearly eleven million acres of Indigenous land—taken through coercive treaties, forced removal, or outright theft—were funneled into endowments for public universities. Students today walk across campuses financed by displacements their own institutions have yet to fully acknowledge, let alone remedy.
Higher Education as an Arm of Assimilation
The United States also used education as a tool for forced assimilation. The Indian boarding school system, with the Carlisle Industrial School as its model, operated in partnership with federal officials, church agencies, and academic institutions. Native children were taken from their families, stripped of their languages, and subjected to relentless cultural destruction.
Universities contributed research, training, and personnel to this system, embedding the logic of “civilizing” Indigenous Peoples into the academy’s structure. That legacy endures in curricula that minimize Indigenous knowledge systems and in institutional cultures that prize Eurocentric epistemologies as default.
Scientific Racism, Anthropology, and the Theft of Ancestors
American universities played a central role in producing scientific racism. Anthropologists and medical researchers collected Indigenous remains, objects, and sacred items without consent. Museums and university labs became repositories for thousands of ancestors—often obtained through grave robberies, military campaigns, or opportunistic scholarship.
The 1990 Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) was designed to force institutions to return ancestors and cultural patrimony. Yet decades later, many universities are still out of compliance, delaying repatriation while continuing to benefit from the research collections they amassed through violence.
Contemporary Structural Racism in Higher Education
The oppression is not confined to history. Structural racism continues to constrain Native Peoples in higher education today.
Native students remain among the most underrepresented and under-supported groups on American campuses. Chronic underfunding of Tribal Colleges and Universities (TCUs) reflects a broader political disregard for Indigenous sovereignty and self-determination. Meanwhile, elite institutions recruit Native students for marketing purposes while failing to invest in retention, community support, or Indigenous faculty hiring.
Some universities have begun implementing land acknowledgments, but these symbolic gestures have little impact when institutions refuse to confront their material obligations: returning land, committing long-term funding to Indigenous programs, or restructuring governance to include tribal representatives.
What a Real Reckoning Would Require
A genuine response to the National Day of Mourning would require far more than statements of solidarity. It would involve confronting the ways American higher education continues to profit from dispossession and the ways Native students continue to bear disproportionate burdens—from tuition to cultural isolation to the racist violence that still occurs on and around campuses.
Real accountability would include:
• Full compliance with NAGPRA and expedited repatriation.
• Transparent reporting of land-grant wealth and the return or shared governance of those lands.
• Stable, meaningful funding for TCUs.
• Hiring, tenure, and research policies that center Indigenous scholarship and sovereignty.
• Long-term institutional commitments—financial, curricular, and political—to Indigenous communities.
These steps require institutions to shift from performative recognition to structural transformation.
A Day of Mourning—And a Call to Action
The National Day of Mourning is not merely a counter-holiday. It is a reminder that the United States was founded on violence against Native Peoples—and that its colleges and universities were not passive beneficiaries but active participants in that violence.
For higher education leaders, faculty, and students, the question is no longer whether these histories are real or whether they matter. They are documented. They are ongoing. They matter profoundly.
The real question is what institutions are willing to give up—land, power, wealth, or narrative control—to support Indigenous liberation.
On this National Day of Mourning, HEI honors the truth that Indigenous survival is an act of resistance, and Indigenous sovereignty is not a symbolic aspiration but an overdue demand. The future of higher education must move through that truth, not around it.
Sources
Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States.
The Land-Grab Universities Project (High Country News & Land-Grab Universities database).
David Treuer, The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee.
Margaret D. Jacobs, A Generation Removed: The Fostering and Adoption of Indigenous Children in the Postwar World.
As the £4.3 million National Civic Impact Accelerator (NCIA) programme draws to a close in December, universities across the country are grappling with a fundamental question: what does sustainable civic engagement actually look like?
After three years of momentum building and collective learning, I find myself observing the sector at a crossroads that feels both familiar and entirely new. The timing feels both urgent and opportune.
The government’s renewed emphasis about universities’ civic role – most notably through Bridget Phillipson’s explicit call for institutions to “play a greater civic role in their communities” – creates opportunity and expectation. Yet this arrives at a challenging time for universities, with 43 per cent of England’s institutions facing deficits this year.
Despite this supportive policy context, I still find myself having conversations like, “but what exactly is civic?”, “is civic the right word?” or – most worryingly – “we can’t afford this anymore.”
As universities face their most challenging financial circumstances in decades, we need to be bolder, clearer, and more precise about demonstrating our value to places and communities, across everything we do.
Determination
Instead of treating place-responsive work as a competition on some imagined league table or trying to redefine the term to fit the status quo, we need to come together to demonstrate our value to society collectively. But perhaps most importantly, we need to commit to reflect and do better despite the financial challenges.
This isn’t about pinning down a narrow, one-size-fits-all definition and enforcing uniformity. Instead, it’s about recognising and valuing the diversity of place-responsive approaches seen across the country. From the University of Kent’s Right to Food programme to Anglia Ruskin University’s co-creation approach to voluntary student social impact projects. From Dundee’s Art at the Start project to support infant mental health and address inequalities, to how Birmingham City University is supporting local achievement of net-zero ambitions through their climate literacy bootcamps.
Sometimes, it means making tough choices to reimagine how these valuable ways of working can be embedded across everything we do. Sometimes it means making this work visible, using a shared language to bring coherence – and crucially – committing, even in tough times, to honest reflection on our practice and a determination to keep improving.
The waypoint moment
I’ve found it helpful to describe civic engagement as an expedition. Most of us can imagine some kind of destination for our civic ambitions – perhaps obscured by clouds – with many paths before us, lots of different terrains, and a few hazards on the trail.
Through the NCIA’s work – led by Sheffield Hallam University in partnership with the National Coordinating Centre for Public Engagement (NCCPE), the Institute for Community Studies, City-REDI, and Queen Mary University of London – we’ve distilled three years of intensive evidence gathering and experimentation into fourteen practical “waypoints” for civic engagement, now launching as part of our Civic Field Guide (currently in Beta version).
These aren’t just statements – they’re navigation signals based on well-trodden paths from fellow explorers. They come with a bespoke set of tools, ideas and options to deal with the terrain ahead.
You can think of them like those reassuring signs on coastal walks. Helping you understand where you are and what direction you’re heading but giving you freedom to explore or take a detour.
Take our waypoint on measuring civic impact. It encourages universities to develop evaluation systems that can document progress quantitatively, alongside the rich narratives that illustrate how civic initiatives transform real lives and strengthen community capacity. It draws on examples from universities that have tried to tackle this challenge, acknowledging both their successes and the obstacles they’ve encountered, whilst offering practical tools, frameworks and actionable guidance. But it deliberately avoids prescribing a one-size-fits-all measurement approach. Because every place has different needs, ambitions and challenges. Both the civic work itself and how we measure it must be tailored to the unique character of our places and communities.
Our waypoints cover everything from embedding civic engagement as a core institutional mission to navigating complex policy landscapes. They address the “passion trap” that many of us might recognise, where civic work is reliant on a few individual champions rather than an institutional culture. They tackle issues of partnership development, cultivating active citizenship, and contributing to regional policymaking.
Perhaps most importantly, they recognise that authentic civic engagement isn’t about universities doing things to or even for their places, it’s about embracing other anchor institutions, competitors, businesses and communities as equal partners throughout the entire process of identifying needs, designing solutions, and implementing change.
This often means decentring the university from the relationship. Some of the strongest partnerships start with universities asking not “what can we do for you?” but “what are you already trying to achieve, and how might we contribute?”.
The embedding challenge
James Coe’s recent thoughts on how to save the civic agenda challenged us all to think about how universities move beyond “civic-washing” to genuine transformation. The NCIA’s evidence suggests the answer lies in weaving civic responsibility into everything we do, not just the obvious.
Being civic means thinking about procurement policies that support local businesses. It means campus facilities genuinely accessible to community groups. It means research questions shaped by community priorities, not just academic curiosity. It means student placements that address local challenges whilst developing skills and confidence.
Such as at the University of Derby. Their CivicLAB supports academics, students and the community to share insights on research and practice through a place-based approach to knowledge generation. Located centrally within the university, this interdisciplinary group cuts across research, innovation, teaching, and learning. Established in late 2020, CivicLAB has already created civic opportunities for over 14,600 staff, students and external stakeholders and members of the public.
The civic question also means responding to the sceptics with evidence: demonstrating how place-based engagement creates richer contexts for research and more meaningful experiences for students; showing how equitable partnerships, far from distracting from core academic work, can actually enhance teaching and scholarship; and providing examples of how civic engagement has strengthened global excellence, helping local communities connect their priorities and assets to broader movements and opportunities.
The future of civic engagement
At CiviCon25 – our national, flagship conference which took place in Sheffield last month – we brought together civic university practitioners, engaged scholars, senior leaders and community partners to wrestle with the challenges that will shape the next decade of civic engagement.
Our theme of “where ideas meet impact” captured something fundamental about our work: too often in higher education, brilliant ideas never quite make it into practice, or practice develops in isolation from the best thinking. We sometimes get stuck reinventing the wheel, endlessly debating definitions instead of delivering for our communities.
But something different is happening now. A new generation of determined, ambitious civic universities are leading this movement forward, and I’ve been privileged to witness their journeys first-hand. They’ve been extraordinarily generous. Sharing what’s worked, being honest about setbacks, and helping others navigate the same challenges many of them faced alone. It’s their insights, experiments, and wisdom that have shaped the NCIA’s fourteen waypoints.
As the NCIA draws to its scheduled conclusion, there’s something bittersweet about this moment. The infrastructure exists. The evidence is compelling. The policy environment has never been more supportive. But whatever happens next, we need to demonstrate our value to society collectively and commit to reflect and do better despite the financial challenges.
The civic trail will always have its hazards. We’ve learned that much. But with good maps, experienced guides, and companions who share the commitment to reach the destination, these hazards become navigable challenges rather than insurmountable barriers.
The fourteen waypoints offer the higher education sector a map and compass. Not every university need follow this path, but those that choose civic engagement as core mission must commit fully to the patient work of institutional change, equitable partnership building, and community-led impact.
The trail is well marked now. The question is: who else will join the journey?
Some years ago, I came across Walter Moberley’s The Crisis in the University. In the years after the Second World War, universities faced a perfect storm: financial strain, shifting student demographics, and a society wrestling with lost values. Every generation has its reckoning. Universities don’t just mirror the societies they serve – they help define what those societies might become.
Today’s crisis looks very different. It isn’t about reconstruction or mass expansion. It’s about knowledge itself – how it is mediated and shaped in a world of artificial intelligence. The question is whether universities can hold on to their cultural distinctiveness once LLM-enabled workflows start to drive their daily operations.
The unwritten rules
Let’s be clear: universities are complicated beasts. Policies, frameworks and benchmarks provide a skeleton. But the flesh and blood of higher education live elsewhere – in the unwritten rules of culture.
Anyone who has sat through a validation panel, squinted at the spreadsheets for a TEF submission, or tried to navigate an approval workflow knows what I mean. Institutions don’t just run on paperwork; they run on tacit understandings, corridor conversations and half-spoken agreements.
These practices rarely make it into a handbook – nor should they – but they shape everything from governance to the student experience. And here’s the rub: large language models, however clever, can’t see what isn’t codified. Which means they can’t capture the very rules that make one university distinctive from another.
The limits of generic AI
AI is already embedded in the sector. We see it in student support chatbots, plagiarism detection, learning platforms, and back-office systems. But these tools are built on vast, generic datasets. They flatten nuance, reproduce bias and assume a one-size-fits-all worldview.
Drop them straight into higher education and the risk is obvious: universities start to look interchangeable. An algorithm might churn out a compliant REF impact statement. But it won’t explain why Institution A counts one case study as transformative while Institution B insists on another, or why quality assurance at one university winds its way through a labyrinth of committees while at another it barely leaves the Dean’s desk. This isn’t just a technical glitch. It’s a governance risk. Allow external platforms to hard-code the rules of engagement and higher education loses more than efficiency – it loses identity, and with it agency.
The temptation to automate is real. Universities are drowning in compliance. Office for Students returns, REF, KEF and TEF submissions, equality reporting, Freedom of Information requests, the Race Equality Charter, endless templates – the bureaucracy multiplies every year.
Staff are exhausted. Worse, these demands eat into time meant for teaching, research and supporting students. Ministers talk about “cutting red tape,” but in practice the load only increases. Automation looks like salvation. Drafting policies, preparing reports, filling forms – AI can do all this faster and more cheaply.
But higher education isn’t just about efficiency. It’s also about identity and purpose. If efficiency is pursued at the expense of culture, universities risk hollowing out the very things that make them distinctive.
Institutional memory matters
Universities are among the UK’s most enduring civic institutions, each with a long memory shaped by place. A faculty’s interpretation of QAA benchmarks, the way a board debates grade boundaries, the precedents that guide how policies are applied – all of this is institutional knowledge.
Very little of it is codified. Sit in a Senate meeting or a Council away-day and you quickly see how much depends on inherited understanding. When senior staff leave or processes shift, that memory can vanish – which is why universities so often feel like they are reinventing the wheel.
Here, human-assistive AI could play a role. Not by replacing people, but by capturing and transmitting tacit practices alongside the formal rulebook. Done well, that kind of LLM could preserve memory without erasing culture.
So, what does “different” look like? The Turing Institute recently urged the academy to think about AI in relation to the humanities, not just engineering. My own experiments – from the Bernie Grant Archive LLM to a Business Case LLM and a Curriculum Innovation LLM – point in the same direction.
The principles are clear. Systems should be co-designed with staff, reflecting how people actually work rather than imposing abstract process maps. They must be assistive, not directive – capable of producing drafts and suggestions but always requiring human oversight.
They need to embed cultural nuance: keeping tone, tradition and tacit practice alive alongside compliance. That way outputs reflect the character of the institution, reinforcing its USP rather than erasing it. They should preserve institutional knowledge by drawing on archives and precedents to create a living record of decision-making. And they must build in error prevention, using human feedback loops to catch hallucinations and conceptual drift.
Done this way, AI lightens the bureaucratic load without stripping out the culture and identity that make universities what they are.
The sector’s inflection point
So back to the existential question. It’s not whether to adopt AI – that ship has already sailed. The real issue is whether universities will let generic platforms reshape them in their image, or whether the sector can design tools that reflect its own values.
And the timing matters. We’re heading into a decade of constrained funding, student number caps, and rising ministerial scrutiny. Decisions about AI won’t just be about efficiency – they will go to the heart of what kind of universities survive and thrive in this environment.
If institutions want to preserve their distinctiveness, they cannot outsource AI wholesale. They must build and shape models that reflect their own ways of working – and collaborate across the sector to do so. Otherwise, the invisible knowledge that makes one university different from another will be drained away by automation.
That means getting specific. Is AI in higher education infrastructure, pedagogy, or governance? How do we balance efficiency with the preservation of tacit knowledge? Who owns institutional memory once it’s embedded in AI – the supplier, or the university? Caveat emptor matters here. And what happens if we automate quality assurance without accounting for cultural nuance?
These aren’t questions that can be answered in a single policy cycle. But they can’t be ducked either. The design choices being made now will shape not just efficiency, but the very fabric of universities for decades to come.
The zeitgeist of responsibility
Every wave of technology promises efficiency. Few pay attention to culture. Unless the sector intervenes, large language models will be no different.
This is, in short, a moment of responsibility. Universities can co-design AI that reflects their values, reduces bureaucracy and preserves identity. Or they can sit back and watch as generic platforms erode the lifeblood of the sector, automating away the subtle rules that make higher education what it is.
In 1989, at the start of my BBC career, I stood on the Berlin Wall and watched the world change before my eyes. Today, higher education faces a moment of similar magnitude. The choice is stark: be shapers and leaders, or followers and losers.
Every conversation I have with higher ed leaders seems to start in the same place: competition is tougher than ever. Enrollment pressures, shifting demographics, rising expectations from students — it’s a lot. And in the middle of it all, I see so many institutions sitting on a resource that could help them compete more effectively: their own data.
The truth is, higher ed doesn’t have a data shortage. Colleges and universities already collect enormous amounts of information across their systems. The challenge is knowing how to put it to work in ways that actually move the needle. Too often, that data stays trapped in silos, reduced to static reports, or only pulled out for compliance.
The difference isn’t the data itself — it’s how you use it.
Students expect personalization
Think about how personalized the world around us has become. From the playlists that show up in your music app to the recommendations in your shopping cart, people expect experiences that feel unique and relevant. Students are no different.
A high schooler exploring a summer program and a mid-career professional considering a certificate have very different motivations. Yet both expect a journey that recognizes their goals and helps them take the next right step.
That’s where higher ed data becomes a real advantage. When institutions use it strategically, they can anticipate student needs, personalize outreach, and build relationships that feel relevant, timely, and supportive rather than transactional.
How scattered data becomes a living, actionable picture
Here’s the challenge: most colleges are juggling a patchwork of CRMs, SIS, LMS, and marketing platforms that don’t really talk to each other. Each contains valuable data, but without a way to connect them, the view of the student is incomplete.
This is where the concept of a digital twin comes in. Imagine having a single, dynamic model that reflects each student’s real journey — from first click to graduation. A digital twin takes fragmented data from across systems and turns it into a living, actionable picture.
During a recent conversation with a prospective partner, our team walked through this idea in action. We demonstrated how a digital twin could anticipate critical student moments, unify siloed systems, and make engagement more intentional. The “aha” moment came when leaders realized it wasn’t about another dashboard, but about creating a foundation that turns information into action.
With that kind of visibility, institutions can do things like:
Spot at-risk students before they disengage.
Give advisors and faculty the insights to offer timely support.
See what’s really driving enrollment outcomes.
Run “what if” scenarios to guide strategy and resources.
That kind of transformation doesn’t just look good on paper — it delivers measurable outcomes.
Real results from using data differently
I’ve seen what happens when institutions make this shift.
I recall one university partner that had been struggling with years of declining graduate enrollment. By unifying their data and creating a clear view across the funnel, they grew spring enrollment by 20% in a single term while re-engaging 120 stop-out students.
Another school was questioning the ROI of their marketing spend. Once they integrated campaign data with enrollment outcomes and student sentiment, they were able to adjust quickly. The result? A 30% increase in online applications and a 46% reduction in cost-per-deposit.
These stories aren’t about magic formulas. They’re about what’s possible when institutions stop letting data sit unused and instead create a digital twin that brings the student journey to life.
Rethinking the role of data
Too often, data is seen and treated as a back-office function. That approach is a liability. I believe higher ed data must be treated as a core part of strategy, student engagement, and institutional health.
If you’re wondering where to start, ask yourself:
Do we have a clear view of the entire student journey, or are we piecing it together manually?
Are our engagement efforts personalized, or are they one-size-fits-all?
Can we make real-time decisions, or are we relying on outdated reports?
Do our teams have the insights they need to act at the right moment?
If the answer to any of these is “No,” it’s time to rethink your approach to data.
Looking ahead
I’ve spent more than a decade working alongside higher ed leaders, and one thing I know is this: data alone isn’t the advantage. What matters is how you use it to serve students and strengthen your institution.
The colleges and universities that will lead the next era of higher education won’t be the ones with the biggest datasets. They’ll be the ones that create a connected, holistic view of each student — able to anticipate needs, personalize engagement, and act with precision. They’ll be the ones treating data as the engine of innovation, not just a byproduct of operations.
Are you ready to take advantage of your data?
Innovation Starts Here
Higher ed is evolving — don’t get left behind. Explore how Collegis can help your institution thrive.
Welcome back to our fourth season. Time Flies. We’ve gone back to an audio only format ’cause apparently y’all are audio and bibliophiles and not videophiles, so we decided to chuck the extra editing burden. Other than that, though, it’s the same show. Bring you stories on higher education from all around the world. So, let’s get to it.
Today’s guest is Pedro Teixeira. He’s a higher education scholar from the University of Porto in Portugal, focusing to a large extent on the economics of education, but he also just finished a term as that country’s Secretary of State for higher education. That’s a position closer to a junior minister rather than a deputy minister, but it has elements of both.
I first met Pedro about 20 years ago, and I ran into him again this summer in Boston at the Center for International Higher Education’s biannual shindig, where he was giving the Philip Altbach lecture. And let me tell you, this was the best lecture I have listened to in a long time.
Two reasons for this. First, Pedro spoke about his experiences as a Secretary of State trying to negotiate a new funding formula with universities in that country. I won’t spoil the details, but one big highlight for me was that he was in the rare position of being a politician, trying to convince universities not to have a performance-based element in their funding formula. And second, he talked about the future of higher education in the face of possible falling returns to education due to wider adoption of artificial intelligence.
It was such a good talk, I knew my World of Higher Education podcast listeners would think it was great too. And while I couldn’t record it, I did do the next best thing. I invited Pedro to be our lead off guest for this season’s podcast. Let’s listen to what he has to say.
The World of Higher Education Podcast Episode 4.1 | From Funding Formulas to AI: Pedro Teixeira on Higher Education’s Next Challenges
Transcript
Alex Usher: Okay, so Pedro, you were an academic at CIPES (Centre of Research on Higher Education Policy) at the University of Porto, and you went from that to being a minister of state. That’s not an unfamiliar path in Portuguese higher education—Alberto Amal, I think, did something similar. But that move from academia to government, how big a shift was that? What did you learn, and what were you not expecting when becoming a minister of state?
Pedro Teixeira: I think you’re right in the sense that there are quite a few people who have done this, not only in Portugal but also in other parts of Europe, in different areas. And I think it’s always a bit of a challenge, because there’s this expectation that, since you’re an academic—and especially if you’re an expert on the topic—people expect you to have a solution for all the problems. And it’s not exactly like that.
At the same time, I think one is worried that what you do in office will be coherent with what you had advocated as an academic and with what you had written about specific topics. That’s challenging.
In some respects, I wasn’t very surprised by what I faced, because I had been involved in advisory roles and I knew people who had been in that kind of policy role. So I think I wasn’t—I mean, there were the things you expect, like the amount of work and the long days. But I never felt that was really the most difficult part. Of course, going through these things and living them is a little different than knowing them in the abstract.
But I think the main concern for me was the permanent pressures. You are always concerned with something, always worried either about the problems you have to deal with or the problems that will emerge.
What I was not so happy with was the lack of a sense of urgency in some of the actors, both on the government side and on the side of stakeholders in the sector. Because if you feel the problems are significant, you need to move forward—of course not rushing, but you do need to move forward.
On the positive side, I think the quality and dedication of staff was very important. Civil service is often criticized, but I found that very important. And the other thing that was also very important was the role of data and evidence, while at the same time you also need to develop arguments and persuade people about the points you’re trying to make.
Alex Usher: So what were those urgent issues? I know one of the big things you dealt with was a funding formula—and we’ll come to that later—but what, to your mind, were the other big urgent issues in Portuguese higher education at that time?
Pedro Teixeira: As we know, most people in their higher education system always think their system is very specific, very different from everyone else. But in fact, we know there are a lot of commonalities across education sectors.
In many ways, the challenges were the same ones that people describe as belonging to mass systems, or what others might call mature systems. One significant issue, of course, was the adverse demographic trends.
Another was the tension between, on the one hand, wanting to broaden access and enhance equity in the system, and on the other, facing enormous pressures toward stratification and elitism, with the system tending to reproduce socioeconomic inequalities.
There were also issues related to diversity versus isomorphism. On the one hand, people agree that in order for a mass system to function, it needs to be diverse. But there are pressures in the system that tend to push institutions toward mimicking or emulating the more prestigious ones.
The balance between missions is another challenge. This relates to that issue of isomorphism, because research has become so dominant in defining what higher education institutions do and how they see their mission.
And, of course, there were issues of cost and relevance: who should pay for higher education, and how can we persuade society to put more resources into a sector that, because it is a mass system, is already absorbing a significant amount of public funding?
Alex Usher: All right. On that point about demographics, I saw a story in one of the Portuguese newspapers this week saying that applications were down 15% this year. Is that a rapidly evolving situation? That seems like a lot.
Pedro Teixeira: No. There’s been a downward trend over the last three or four years, but because the number of applicants was bigger than the number of places, it didn’t disturb things much. Most of what we’re seeing now is actually due to the fact that in 2020, with the pandemic, exams for the conclusion of secondary education were suspended.
They were only reintroduced this year. That decision was taken at the end—actually by the government I was part of—at the beginning of 2023. But in order to give students and schools time to adjust, the change only applied to the students who were starting secondary education then. Those are the students who applied this year for higher education.
Basically, when you look at the data—we don’t yet have the numbers on how many graduated from secondary education—but the number of applicants is very much in line with what we had in 2019, which was the last year we had exams for the conclusion of secondary education.
And in fact, if you take into account the declining trend of the last three or four years, I would say it’s not a bad result. It actually means the system managed to compensate for those losses.
Alex Usher: Managed to absorb.
Pedro Teixeira: Yeah, yeah. But it’s also a signal for the sector in that respect.
Alex Usher: So let’s go back to the funding formula issue, because I know that was a big part of your tenure as Secretary of State for Higher Education. What was wrong with the old formula, and what did you hope to achieve with a new one?
Pedro Teixeira: There are two things. I think there were some issues with the old formula. It was designed in 2006, so 15 years had passed. The sector was very different by then—the situation, the challenges, everything had changed.
Also, like many formulas of that time, it was quite complicated, with many indicators and many categories for fields of study. That didn’t make the system very transparent. If you introduce too many indicators and variables, in many ways the message you want to convey is lost. A funding formula is supposed to be an instrument to steer the system.
But the larger problem was that this old formula hadn’t been applied for the last 12 years. When the Great Recession started around 2005–2010, the government suspended its application. Since then, the budgets of all institutions have evolved in the same way—same amount, same direction—regardless of their number of students or their performance.
So when we came into government in 2022, the situation was, in many cases, very unbalanced. Some institutions that had grown significantly didn’t have funding to match that growth. Others that had declined hadn’t seen any adjustments either.
The idea of having a new formula was preceded by an OECD review commissioned by the previous government, which we took over. Our idea was to design a simpler and more transparent formula that would form part of the funding system. In addition to the formula, we introduced funding contracts, focused mainly on institutions located in more peripheral regions of the country.
The idea was also to have a four-year period of gradual implementation of the new model and funding system. At the same time, this would correct some of the imbalances caused by not having applied any formula for 12 years.
Alex Usher: And how did institutions respond to those proposals? Were they on your side? Were there things they liked, and things they didn’t like? Universities don’t like change, after all.
Pedro Teixeira: On the other hand, I think a significant part of the sector was very keen to finally have some kind of formula—some set of rules that would be applied to the whole sector. Of course, some institutions were afraid that by reintroducing a formula, given their recent evolution, they might end up on the losing side.
But one of the key aspects of the process was that this was always seen as a formula, or a new system, that would be introduced within a pattern of growth in funding for the sector—not as a way of redistributing funds from some institutions to others. That made the process easier. It would have been much more difficult if we had been taking money from some institutions to give to others.
This required political commitment from the government, and it was very important to have the backing of the Prime Minister and the Minister of Finance. That meant we could correct imbalances without creating disruption for institutions.
I would say the main critical points were, first, the differentiation between sectors. We have a diverse education system with universities and vocational institutions. Then there was the question of whether to differentiate between regions. Our decision was to have a formula that applied in the same way to all regions, and then use funding contracts as additional resources targeted for strategic purposes—mainly for institutions located in more deprived or less populated regions.
Another point raised in discussions was fields of study. Everyone wants their own fields—or the ones in which they are strongest—to be better funded. But we really wanted to simplify the mechanism, and I think that helped.
Finally, there was the issue of performance indicators. We didn’t propose to introduce them from the start. Because we had gone so many years without a formula, we didn’t have consistent data, and moreover we wanted performance indicators to be developed collaboratively with institutions. The idea was that institutions themselves would decide which areas they wanted to focus on, which areas they wanted to contribute to, and therefore which indicators they wanted to be assessed by.
Because we decided that performance indicators would come in a second step, some institutions wanted them introduced earlier. That was also a point of discussion.
Alex Usher: I find that fascinating, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard of universities—maybe “demanding” is the wrong word—but being disappointed that there wasn’t enough performance-based funding in a system. Why do you think that was?
Pedro Teixeira: I’m not sure I was surprised, but it was significant that some institutions were pressing for it. In some ways, it could have been a strategic approach by certain institutions because they thought they would be on the winning side.
But I think it also has to do with the fact that this competitive, performance ethos has so deeply permeated higher education. At some point, I even said to some institutions: be careful what you wish for. Because in some cases, this could curtail your autonomy and increase the possibility of government interference in your ability to devise your own strategy.
Actually, I think that was, in many ways, the only real public criticism that came up. And that was quite interesting, to say the least.
Alex Usher: I want to shift the ground a little bit from Portugal to Boston. Two months ago, you gave the Philip B. Altbach Lecture at Boston College’s Center for International Higher Education. You devoted a lot of your talk to artificial intelligence and how it’s likely to change higher education. Could you tell us a little bit about your views on this?
Pedro Teixeira: That’s a fascinating topic. Of course, it’s an important issue for many people around the world and for many education institutions.
It’s fascinating because, to a certain extent, we’ve been nurtured by a view that has dominated over the last decades—that progress has been skill-biased. In previous waves of technological progress, the labor market tended to favor those with higher skills. Education was often seen as contributing to that, helping people be on the winning side, and the returns to more education and more skills seemed to confirm it.
My concern is that this wave may be slightly different. I’m not saying it will destroy a lot of jobs, but I am concerned that it may affect skilled and experienced workers in ways that previous waves did not.
We’ve already seen, and many of us have already experienced in our own jobs, that AI is performing certain tasks we no longer have to do. It’s also changing the way we perform other tasks, because it works as a collaborative tool.
So I think there is a serious possibility that AI—especially generative AI—will change the tasks associated with many jobs that today require a higher education degree. We need to pay attention to that and respond to it.
I worry that because education has been such a success story over the last half-century in many countries, there is a degree of complacency. People take a relaxed attitude, saying: “We’ve seen previous changes, and we didn’t experience so many problems, so we’ll be fine this time as well.”
I think there are quite a few aspects we need to change in our approach.
Alex Usher: And what might those areas be? Because I have to say, whenever I hear people discussing AI and radical change in the labor market, I think: that’s the stuff that’s actually hardest for higher education to deal with—or for any kind of education to deal with.
Education is often about teaching a corpus of knowledge, and there is no corpus of knowledge about AI. We’re all flailing blindly here—it’s totally new.
I think a lot about James Bessen and his book Learning by Doing. He was talking about how education worked during the Industrial Revolution in Manchester, and in other parts of England that were industrializing. Basically, when there’s a totally new technology, who are you going to get to teach new people? There’s no settled corpus of knowledge about it.
What do you think higher education institutions should be doing in that context?
Pedro Teixeira: One of the major concerns I have is that we tend to focus so much on the impact of digitalization and technology on science and technology fields. But we should be much more attentive to how it’s changing non-technical fields—health professions, the humanities, and the social sciences. These make up a very large part of higher education, and a very large part of the qualified workforce in many of our countries.
I think there are several things we need to do. The first is to rethink the balance between the different missions of higher education. At the moment, so much of the pressure and so many of the rewards are focused on missions other than education, teaching, and learning. We need to rebalance that. If institutions don’t commit themselves to education, it will be much more difficult for anything significant to happen at the basic level—among professors, programs, and so on.
If AI does affect more experienced workers, that means many people will need more support in terms of lifelong learning. They will need support in reskilling, and in some cases, in changing their professional trajectories. This is an area where many higher education institutions preach much more than they practice.
So I think we need to rethink how we allocate our efforts in education portfolios, moving more attention toward lifelong learning. So far, the focus has been overwhelmingly on initial training, which has been the core of the sector in many systems.
Finally, we would need to rethink—or at least introduce—changes at the level of initial training: the way we teach, the way we assess students, the way we train and retrain academic staff. None of this will be obvious. But in the end, it will all come down to how much institutions are committed to education as the prime mission of higher education.
Alex Usher: So even if AI is not a mass job killer—either now or in the future—we are seeing declining rates of return on higher education around the world. There’s massive graduate unemployment in China, quite a bit in India, and in the United States, for the first time, young graduates are less likely to be employed than non-graduates of the same age.
What does it mean for the higher education sector globally if rates of return decline? Are we heading for a smaller global higher education sector?
Pedro Teixeira: I tend to be cautious with some of these conclusions. We may be extracting too much from what could be transitional situations. We’ve seen in the past moments where there were problems adjusting supply and demand for graduates, and those didn’t necessarily lead to a permanent or structural situation where education became less relevant.
In countries like China and India, higher education systems have expanded tremendously in recent years. In some ways, what we’re seeing now is similar to what other countries experienced when they went through massive expansions and the economy couldn’t absorb the rising number of graduates as quickly as the education system was producing them.
It’s also not surprising that in many countries we’re seeing lower relevance of initial training—bachelor’s or first-cycle degrees. That’s a supply-and-demand issue. As systems move from elite to mass, that’s normal. But in many cases, we’ve seen a growing premium for postgraduate degrees and for continuing education. So I’d be cautious about concluding that education will become less and less relevant.
That said, I would repeat my concern about complacency. I don’t necessarily expect a decline in the sector, but perhaps a slower pattern of growth. That will be a challenge, because we’re coming out of decades of relentless growth in many education systems.
I also think we’ll see a broader scope in how we approach education and differences in higher education portfolios. It’s not that there aren’t many things we can do, but it will probably require us to rethink what we expect from professors and where institutions should focus their attention.
Alex Usher: Right. Pedro, thank you so much for being with us today.
Pedro Teixeira: My pleasure.
Alex Usher: And it just remains for me to thank our excellent producers, Sam Pufek and Tiffany MacLennan, and you, our listeners and readers, for joining us. If you have any questions or comments about today’s episode, or suggestions for future episodes, don’t hesitate to get in touch with us at [email protected].
Join us next week when our guest will be the University of Melbourne’s Andrew Norton. He’ll be talking about what lies ahead for Australian higher education under a second Labor government. Bye for now.
*This podcast transcript was generated using an AI transcription service with limited editing. Please forgive any errors made through this service.Please note, the views and opinions expressed in each episode are those of the individual contributors, and do not necessarily reflect those of the podcast host and team, or our sponsors.
Ambow CEO Has Repeatedly Slipped Through the Fingers of Shareholders and Regulators
In the opaque world of for-profit higher education, few figures have evoked the mixture of fascination and alarm generated by Jin Huang, CEO—and at times interim CFO and Board Chair—of Ambow Education Holding Ltd. Huang has repeatedly navigated financial crises, regulatory scrutiny, and institutional collapse with a Houdini-like flair. Yet the institutions under her control—most notably Bay State College and NewSchool of Architecture & Design—tell a far more troubling story.
Ambow’s Financial Labyrinth
Ambow, headquartered in the Cayman Islands with historic ties to Beijing (former address: No. 11 Xinyuanli, Chaoyang District, Beijing, China), has endured years of financial instability. As early as 2010, the company pursued ambitious acquisitions in the U.S. education market, including NewSchool and eventually Bay State College, often relying on opaque financing and cross-border investments.
By 2013, allegations of sham transactions and kickbacks forced Ambow into liquidation and reorganization. Yet the company repeatedly avoided delisting and collapse. Financial reports reveal a recurring pattern: near-catastrophe followed by minimal recovery. In 2023, net revenue fell 37.8% to $9.2 million with a $4.3 million operating loss. By 2024, Ambow reported a modest $0.3 million net income, narrowly avoiding another financial crisis.
Early Years: 2010–2015
From 2010 to 2015, Ambow aggressively pursued U.S. acquisitions and technology projects while expanding its presence in China. The company leveraged offshore corporate structures and relied heavily on PRC-linked investors. Huang’s leadership style during this period prioritized expansion and publicity over sustainable governance, leaving institutions financially vulnerable.
Despite claims of educational innovation, Ambow’s track record in these years included multiple warnings from U.S. regulators and questionable accounting practices that would later contribute to shareholder lawsuits and delisting from the NYSE in 2014.
Bay State College: Closed Doors, Open Wounds
Acquired in 2017, Bay State College in Boston once enrolled over 1,200 students. By 2021, enrollment had collapsed, despite millions in federal COVID-era relief. In 2022, the Massachusetts Attorney General secured a $1.1 million settlement over misleading marketing, telemarketing violations, and inflated job-placement claims.
Accreditation probation followed, culminating in NECHE’s withdrawal of accreditation in January 2023. Eviction proceedings for over $720,000 in unpaid rent preceded the college’s permanent closure in August 2023. Bay State’s demise exemplifies the consequences of Ambow’s pattern: the CEO escapes, the institution collapses, and students and faculty are left in the lurch.
NewSchool of Architecture & Design: Stabilization in San Diego
NewSchool, Ambow’s other U.S. acquisition, has faced persistent challenges. Enrollment has dropped below 300 students, and the school remains on the U.S. Department of Education’s Heightened Cash Monitoring list. Leadership instability has been chronic: five presidents since 2020, with resignations reportedly tied to unpaid salaries and operational dysfunction.
As of 2025, lawsuits with Art Block Investors, LLC have been settled, and NewSchool is now housed in three floors of the WeWork building in downtown San Diego. Despite receiving a Notice of Concern from regional accreditor WSCUC, the college remains operational but financially precarious.
Questionable Credentials and Leadership Transparency
Huang has claimed to hold a PhD from the University of California, but investigation reveals no record of degree completion. This raises further concerns about leadership credibility and transparency. Ambow’s consolidated executive structure—Huang serving simultaneously as CEO, CFO, and Board Chair—exacerbates governance risks.
While headquartered in Cupertino, California, Ambow continues to operate with ties to Chinese interests. SEC filings from the PRC era acknowledged that the Chinese government exerted significant influence on the company’s business operations. Ambow has also expressed interest in projects in Morocco and Tunisia involving Chinese-affiliated partners.
HybriU and the EdTech Hype
In 2024, Ambow launched HybriU, a hybrid learning platform promoted at CES and the ASU+GSV conference. Marketing materials claim a 5-in-1 AI-integrated solution for teaching, learning, connectivity, recording, and management, including immersive 3D classroom projections.
Yet there is no verifiable evidence of HybriU’s use in actual classrooms. A $1.3 million licensing deal with a recently formed Singapore company, Inspiring Futures, is the only reported commercial transaction. Photos on the platform’s website have been traced to stock images, and the “OOOK” (One-on-One Knowledge) technology introduced in China in 2021 has not demonstrated measurable results in U.S. education settings.
Reports suggest that Ambow may be in preliminary talks with Colorado State University (CSU) to implement HybriU. HEI has not confirmed any formal partnership, and CSU has not publicly acknowledged engagement with the platform. Any potential relationship remains unverified, raising questions about the legitimacy and scope of Ambow’s outreach to U.S. universities.
Ambow’s 2025 press release promotes HybriU as a transformative global learning network, but HEI’s review finds no verified partnerships with accredited U.S. universities, no independent validation, and continued opacity regarding student outcomes or data security.
Financial Oversight and Auditor Concerns
Ambow commissioned a favorable report from Argus Research, but its research and development spending remains minimal—$100,000 per quarter. Prouden CPA, the current auditor based in China, is new to the company’s books and has limited experience auditing U.S. education operations. This raises questions about the reliability of Ambow’s financial reporting and governance practices.
Conclusion: The Illusion of Rescue
Jin Huang’s repeated escapes from regulatory and financial peril have earned her a reputation akin to Harry Houdini. But the cost of each act is borne not by the CEO, but by institutions, faculty, and students. Bay State College is closed. NewSchool remains operational in a WeWork facility but teeters on financial fragility. HybriU promises innovation but offers no proof.
Ambow’s trajectory demonstrates that a company can survive on hype, foreign influence, and minimal governance, while leaving the real consequences behind. Any unconfirmed talks with CSU highlight the ongoing risks for U.S. institutions considering engagement with Ambow. For regulators, students, and higher education stakeholders, Huang’s Houdini act is less a marvel than a warning.
Sources
Higher Education Inquirer. “Ambow Education Facing NYSE Delisting.” May 2022.
Higher Education Inquirer. “Ambow Education and NewSchool of Architecture and Design.” October 2023.
Higher Education Inquirer. “NewSchool of Architecture and Design Lawsuits.” March 2025.
Boston Globe. “Bay State College Faces Uncertain Future.” January 3, 2023.
Inside Higher Ed. “Two Colleges Flounder Under Opaque For-Profit Owners.” October 18, 2022.
Inside Higher Ed. “Bay State College Loses Accreditation Appeal.” March 21, 2023.
GlobeNewswire. “Ambow Education Announces Full-Year 2024 Results.” March 28, 2025.
Ambow Education Press Releases and SEC Filings
Wikipedia. “Bay State College.” Accessed August 2025.
Wikipedia. “NewSchool of Architecture and Design.” Accessed August 2025.
As the spring semester got under way in January at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs, a dozen military veterans waited for their GI Bill student benefit checks to show up.
Then they waited, and waited some more, until the money finally arrived — in April.
By that time, three had left.
Getting GI Bill benefits from the Veterans Administration, which student veterans use to pay for their tuition, textbooks and housing, already took weeks. Since federal government staffing cuts since President Donald Trump took office, it’s been taking at least three times longer, said Jeff Deickman, assistant director for veteran and military affairs at the student veteran center on that campus.
Deickman’s counterparts at other colleges say the VA’s paperwork often has errors, causing further delays. They say some student veterans are dropping out.
“I can spend, on bad days, three hours on the phone with the VA,” said Deickman, himself a 20-year Army veteran and a doctoral student. “They’ll only answer questions about one student at a time, so I have to hang up and start over again.”
The start of the new administration brought big personnel cuts to both the VA and the U.S. Department of Education, which manages some student aid for veterans. Now, advocacy groups and universities and colleges that enroll large numbers of veterans are bracing for the planned layoffs and departures of nearly 30,000 VA employees and additional cuts at the Department of Education.
Many are also concerned about the potential for reduced scrutiny of the for-profit college sector, which critics contend has taken advantage of veterans’ tuition payments without providing the promised educational benefits.
Related: Interested in innovations in higher education? Subscribe to our free biweeklyhigher education newsletter.
Veterans who are just starting to feel the effects of federal cuts, and organizations that support them, worry things will only get worse, said Barmak Nassirian, vice president for higher education policy at the advocacy group Veterans Education Success. The nonprofit has been getting calls from students anxious about confusing information they’re receiving from federal agencies, he said, and it’s been hard to get answers from the government.
“Part of the challenge of wrapping our arms around this is the opaqueness of the whole thing. We’re sort of feeling our way around the impact,” Nassirian said.
“The whole process” has become a mess, said one 33-year-old Navy vet in Colorado, who used a more colorful term common in the military and asked that his name not be disclosed for fear of reprisal. “It’s making a lot of us anxious.”
Social media lays bare that anxiety — and frustration. In posts, veterans complain about stalled benefits and mistakes.
“I just wish I could speak to someone who could help but all of the reps seem to be unable to assist and simply tell me to reapply, which I have 4x, just for another denial,” wrote one on Reddit, about attempts to have a student loan forgiven.
“Complete nightmare,” another Reddit poster wrote about the same process. “Delays, errors, and employees that don’t know anything. No one knows anything right now.”
Federal law guarantees that disabled vets’ student loans will be forgiven, for instance, but veterans with total permanent disabilities have reported that their applications for their loans to be discharged were denied. One said the Department of Education followed up with a letter saying the denial was a mistake, but the agency hasn’t explained how to correct it.
The Education Department did not respond to an interview request. The VA declined to answer even general questions about benefit delays unless provided with the names of veterans and colleges that reported problems.
Such cuts threaten to “disrupt access to veterans’ education benefits, just as even more veterans and service members may be turning to higher education and career training,” top officials at the American Council on Education, or ACE — the nation’s largest association of colleges and universities — wrote in June.
That’s on top of existing frustrations. Veterans already struggle to get the benefits they’ve earned, college administrators and students say.
Many colleges and even some prominent veterans’ advocacy groups didn’t want to talk about this. Student Veterans of America, one of the largest advocacy groups for veteran students, did not respond to repeated interview requests. Ten of the colleges and universities that boast large veteran enrollments — including San Diego State, Georgia State, Angelo State, Arizona State and Syracuse — also did not respond or declined to answer questions.
Veterans and advocates are concerned that ongoing Education Department cuts will erode oversight of education institutions that take GI Bill benefits but leave veterans with little in return — primarily for-profit colleges that were found guilty of, and have been punished repeatedly for, defrauding students. In some cases, those colleges suddenly closed before students could finish their degrees, but kept their tuition while leaving them with useless credits or credentials.
Veterans are already twice as likely as other students to attend for-profit colleges, according to the Postsecondary National Policy Institute.
While it might take years until the effects of weakened scrutiny are fully visible, Nassirian said, it already appears that staffing cuts at the divisions within the Education Department that kept an eye on for-profit colleges have led those schools to start targeting veterans again.
“Without a doubt it is now easier for schools that want to push the envelope to get away with it,” he said. “When you have fewer cops on the beat you’re going to see higher crime. And we’re still just a nanosecond into this new environment.”
Veterans can lose their GI Bill benefits even when a college defrauds them.
The risk is particularly high for low-income veterans and those from diverse backgrounds, said Lindsay Church, executive director of Minority Veterans of America. Those student veterans are less likely to have parents who have experience with higher education, Church said, making them more vulnerable to fraud.
But the most immediate problems with staffing cuts are payment delays and paperwork errors, student veterans and their advisers said.
At Pikes Peak State College, a community college in Colorado Springs, some veterans still hadn’t received their GI Bill benefits as the semester wound down in May, said Paul DeCecco, the college’s director of military and veteran programs. Because of trouble reaching counselors at the VA, others were never able to enroll in the first place, DeCecco said.
“Counselors are just overwhelmed and not able to respond to students in a timely manner,” he said. “Students are missing semesters as a result.”
In the military city of San Diego, where thousands of former and current service members go to college, student veterans at Miramar College this year waited months to hear about VA work-study contracts. Previously approved within days, those contracts allow students to get paid for veteran-related jobs while attending school, said LaChaune DuHart, the school’s director of veterans affairs and military education.
Other veterans went weeks without textbooks because of delayed VA payments, DuHart said.
“A lot of students can’t afford to lose those benefits,” she said, describing the “rage” many student veterans expressed over the long wait times this year. “A lot of times it’s that emotional reaction that causes these students not to come back to an institution,” she said.
Colleges routinely see student veterans quit because of benefit delays, numerous experts and administrators said, something that has gotten worse this year. Several recounted stories of veterans without degrees choosing to look for work rather than continue their education because of frustration with the VA — even though studies show that graduating from college can dramatically increase future earnings.
Those who stayed have faced the added stress of waiting for their benefits, or not being able to get their questions answered.
“We always tell them to be prepared for delays,” said Phillip Morris, an associate professor of education research and leadership at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs who studies student veterans. “But if you can’t pay your rent because your benefits are not flowing the way you’re expecting them to, that’s increasing anxiety and stress that translates to the classroom.”
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
In a time of global climate catastrophe, endless war, and mounting social unrest, the American higher education system—ostensibly a sanctuary of ethics and enlightenment—has shown its allegiance not to peace or justice, but to power. The presidents of elite universities, their boards of trustees, and their wealthiest donors now stand exposed as key cogs in a machinery that profits from genocide, fossil fuel destruction, and war profiteering. They are not simply bystanders to global injustice; they are its enablers and its beneficiaries.
The Role of University Presidents
University presidents, many with backgrounds in business or law rather than academia, have become institutional CEOs rather than moral stewards. Their silence—or worse, their euphemistic statements—in the face of war crimes and environmental devastation reveals not neutrality but complicity. As students protest U.S.-backed wars and apartheid policies abroad, these leaders respond not with dialogue, but with surveillance, mass arrests, and the suppression of speech.
The university president today is less a defender of academic freedom and more a manager of reputational risk. In the face of genocide in Gaza or mass civilian deaths in Yemen, many presidents remain silent or offer carefully crafted non-statements that betray the moral bankruptcy at the heart of neoliberal academia. Their true constituents are not students or faculty—but the donors and trustees who demand institutional alignment with corporate and political interests.
Trustees as Enforcers of the Status Quo
University trustees are often drawn from the ruling class: hedge fund managers, defense contractors, fossil fuel executives, and venture capitalists. These are not individuals selected for their commitment to education or the common good. They are chosen precisely because of their wealth and their proximity to power.
Their presence on governing boards ensures that universities continue to invest in private equity, fossil fuels, and weapons manufacturers. They help enforce austerity for faculty and students while protecting multi-million-dollar endowments from divestment campaigns. When students call for cutting ties with Israeli defense contractors or fossil fuel companies, it is trustees who push back the hardest.
Donors as Puppeteers
Donors exert a quiet but overwhelming influence on policy, curriculum, and campus climate. Mega-donors like Stephen Schwarzman, Kenneth Griffin, and Leonard Lauder have given hundreds of millions to name buildings, shape public discourse, and suppress dissent. Often, these donations come with invisible strings—ideological conditions that shift the priorities of entire departments or shut down lines of critical inquiry.
In the case of fossil fuels, large gifts from oil and gas interests help sustain “energy centers” at top institutions, which in turn push pro-industry research and obstruct climate activism. In terms of war, donations from defense industry executives or foreign governments with poor human rights records ensure a steady normalization of militarism on campus.
Even genocide, once a line that no institution dared cross, is now rendered a matter of “complex geopolitics” by the same donors who pour money into think tanks and academic centers that sanitize ethnic cleansing and apartheid.
Genocide and the Academy
It is no longer possible to ignore the role of elite institutions in justifying or supporting genocidal policies. When universities accept grants and partnerships with governments or corporations involved in mass displacement, ethnic cleansing, or indiscriminate bombing, they become accomplices in atrocity.
During the ongoing Israeli siege of Gaza, for example, several major U.S. universities have contracts or investments tied to Israeli defense firms or U.S. arms manufacturers whose weapons are used against civilians. Students calling for divestment face violent repression, police brutality, and academic retaliation. The pursuit of justice is punished. The preservation of power is prioritized.
Fossil Fuels and the Death Economy
Despite decades of research proving the existential threat of fossil fuels, many university endowments remain deeply invested in oil, gas, and coal. The divestment movement, led primarily by students, has scored some victories—but these are often cosmetic. Institutions may pull direct holdings while maintaining exposure through private equity or index funds.
Fossil fuel interests also shape research agendas, sponsor misleading “carbon capture” or “clean energy” projects, and silence environmental whistleblowers. Professors who speak out risk losing funding. Departments that challenge fossil capital are marginalized. The truth, as always, is inconvenient.
War as a University Business Model
Finally, the war economy permeates American higher education at every level. Defense contracts support engineering departments. ROTC programs and military recruiting are embedded in campus life. Universities run weapons labs, receive funding from DARPA, and participate in Department of Defense research initiatives. The “military-academic-industrial complex” is not an abstraction—it is the everyday reality of higher ed.
Many of these contracts directly support weapons development used in current conflicts. And as with fossil fuels, the system is built to insulate the university from moral scrutiny. War is framed as “security research.” Genocide is called “a contested political issue.” Exploitation is rendered invisible through language.
Toward a Reckoning
The American university must decide: Will it continue to serve as a laundering machine for violence, fossil capital, and authoritarian control? Or can it reimagine itself as a truly democratic institution—answerable not to trustees and donors, but to the communities it serves?
That transformation will not come from the top. It will come from students occupying campus lawns, adjuncts organizing for fair wages, and the public demanding transparency and divestment. The reckoning is long overdue.
Until then, university presidents, trustees, and donors will remain what they have become: polished stewards of empire, cloaked in Ivy and moral evasion.
The Higher Education Inquirer continues to investigate the political economy of higher ed, exposing how institutions prioritize power and profit over people and planet.
This audio is auto-generated. Please let us know if you have feedback.
A large majority of U.S. adults say the cost of attaining a college degree is more expensive than it actually is — a perception that may cause some to forgo education beyond high school, according to a May report from Strada.
Among adults , 77% say college is unaffordable, according to Strada’s November 2024 survey of over 2,000 people. And 65% somewhat or strongly agreed that college is prohibitively expensive, regardless of how motivated the student is. But most people significantly overestimated the cost of attending both two- and four- year public institutions, the report found.
According to Strada’s latest report, 1 in 5 people “substantially overestimate” the cost of attending community college — reporting that the cost is more than $20,000 annually. A majority estimated that it costs more than $10,000 a year. In actuality, the average student pays about $6,000 annually, the report said, citing College Board data.
For public four-year institutions, just 22% of the survey’s respondents correctly identified that it costs the average student between $20,000 and $30,000 annually to attend, with about 35% believing it costs $40,000 or more.
These misperceptions are often fueled by the complex financial aid process and a lack of transparency surrounding the true cost of attending college, as many students are unaware that the price of attendance is often much less than the sticker price, the report added. That’s an issue that many colleges have tried to address in recent years.
“When students and families believe that college is out of reach financially, it can influence key decisions that shape college-going behavior, from which classes they choose in high school to whether they begin saving for college,” said Justin Draeger, senior vice president of affordability at Strada and a co-author of the report.
Strada’s findings follow a host of other research papers and surveys indicating that a growing number of adults say the value of a college degree is not worth the cost. However, research has shown that college graduates often have better financial outcomes than those who did not receive a diploma beyond high school.
The cost of price misconceptions
The cost of attending college is expensive and can be challenging for many students and families to afford, said Draeger. But when factoring in financial aid, the cost is more affordable than people realize, he said.
Overall, 37% of adults said the cost of college was not affordable at all, and 40% said it was not very affordable. Just 18% thought it was somewhat affordable and 5% indicated it was either extremely or very affordable.
A whopping 85% of adults said the cost of attending public four-year institutions is too high. And while community colleges are generally viewed as more affordable, two-thirds of adults said the cost of attending them was too expensive.
Misperceptions abound the cost of community college undercuts one of the strongest value propositions it has: affordability, said Draeger. For four-year schools, those perceptions can compound a range of existing issues, such as declining public trust in the value of a four-year degree and public backlash that exacerbates enrollment declines, he said.
They could also veer some adults from higher education altogether. About 40% of people do not enroll in college immediately after graduating high school, and just 54% of U.S. adults ages 25 to 64 have a postsecondary credential, the report said.
It also points to “a systemic failure in the way we price and market college,” said Draeger. Financial aid and financing systems are “complex, multistep and opaque, and filled with unfamiliar terminology and jargon,” he said.
A growing number of colleges have sought to counter sticker price misconceptions by resetting their cost of attendance to better reflect the amount students typically pay after factoring in institutional scholarships.
Institutions can also help address the issue by standardizing financial aid terminology, said Draeger. As of June, over 700 institutions have done exactly that through the College Cost Transparency Initiative.
Colleges should also embed price transparency and predictability into their enrollment strategies, Draeger said. That would make “it easier for students to understand what they’ll pay and why, and what sort of return they can expect from their degrees,” he added.
Dr Ismini Vasileiou is Associate Professor at De Montfort University, Director of the East Midlands Cyber Security Cluster and Director and Co-Chair of UKC3.
Higher education has always played a critical role in skills development, from professional fields like Medicine, Dentistry, and Engineering to more recent models such as degree apprenticeships. However, as the UK’s digital economy evolves at an unprecedented pace, there is a growing need to rebalance provision, ensuring that universities continue to equip graduates with both theoretical expertise and industry-ready capabilities in areas such as AI, cybersecurity, and automation.
The government’s strategic focus on workforce development underscores the importance of these changes, with higher education well-placed to lead the transformation. As industries adapt, the need for a highly skilled workforce has never been greater. The UK Government’s Plan for Jobs outlines a strategic vision for workforce development, placing skills at the heart of economic growth, national security, and regional resilience.
With the new higher education reform expected in Summer 2025, the sector faces a pivotal moment. The Department for Education has announced that the upcoming changes will focus on improving student outcomes, employment pathways, and financial sustainability in HE. While universities are autonomous institutions, government policy and funding mechanisms are key drivers influencing institutional priorities. The increasing emphasis on workforce development – particularly in cybersecurity, AI, and other high-demand sectors- suggests that universities will likely need to adapt, particularly as new regulatory and funding structures emerge under the forthcoming HE reform.
The National Skills Agenda: Why Higher Education Matters
The skills gap is no longer an abstract policy concern; it is a pressing challenge with economic and security implications. The introduction of Degree Apprenticeships in 2015 was a landmark shift towards integrating academic learning with industry needs. Subsequent initiatives, including MSc conversion courses in AI and Data Science,Level 6 apprenticeships, and the Lifelong Learning Entitlement (LLE) serve as policy levers designed to encourage and facilitate a more skills-oriented higher education landscape, rather than evidence of an inherent need for change. Through mechanisms such as Degree Apprenticeships, AI conversion courses, and the Lifelong Learning Entitlement, the government is actively shaping pathways that incentivise greater emphasis on employability and applied learning within universities.
The Plan for Change accelerates this momentum, funding over 30 regional projects designed to enhance cyber resilience and workforce readiness. One example is the CyberLocal programme, a government-backed initiative (Department for Science, Innovation and Technology) focused on upskilling local authorities, SMEs, and community organisations in cybersecurity. CyberLocal connects universities, businesses, and local governments to deliver tailored cyber resilience training, addressing the increasing threats to national digital security. More information can be found through CyberLocal’s page.
Financial Pressures and the Case for Skills-Based Education
At the same time, the financial landscape of HE is shifting. Declining student enrolments in traditional subjects, increasing operational costs, and a competitive global market have left many institutions reassessing their sustainability strategies. The upcoming higher education reform will shape policy from 2025 onwards, and universities must determine how best to adapt to new funding models and student expectations.
While skills-based education is often positioned as a solution, it is not an immediate financial fix. Many Degree Apprenticeships are run at a loss due to administrative complexities, employer engagement challenges, and high operational costs. Several articles, including those previously published at HEPI, highlight that while demand is growing, institutions face significant challenges in delivering these programmes at scale.
Government-backed funding in AI training and cybersecurity resilience offers targeted opportunities, but these remain limited in scope. Some universities have found success in co-designed upskilling and reskilling initiatives, particularly where regional economic growth strategies align with HE capabilities. The Institute of Coding, a national collaboration between universities and employers funded by the Office for Students, has developed industry-focused digital skills training, particularly in software development and cybersecurity. Additionally, the Office for Students Short Course trial has enabled universities to develop flexible, modular programmes that respond directly to employer demand in areas such as AI, digital transformation, and cybersecurity. Other examples include the National Centre for AI in Tertiary Education, which supports universities in embedding AI skills into their curricula to meet the growing demand for AI literacy across multiple sectors. However, a broader financial model that enables sustainable, scalable skills education is still required.
Regional Collaboration and Workforce Development
Since 2018, the Department for Education (DfE) has supported the creation of Institutes of Technology (IoTs), with 19 now operational across England and Wales. These institutions prioritise digital and cyber education, aligning with local skills needs and economic strategies. Strengthening collaboration between HE and IoTs could enable universities to support regionally tailored workforce development.
Examples such as the East Midlands Freeport, the Leicester and Leicestershire Local Skills Observatory, and CyberLocal illustrate the power of localised approaches. The Collective Skills Observatory, a joint initiative between De Montfort University and the East Midlands Chamber, is leveraging real-time workforce data to ensure that training provision matches employer demand. These initiatives could provide a blueprint for future HE collaboration with regional skills networks, particularly as the UK government reviews post-2025 skills policy.
Cyber Resilience, AI, and the Challenge of Adaptive Curricula
The government’s focus on cyber resilience and AI-driven industries underscores the urgent need for skills development in these areas. With AI poised to reshape global industries, universities must ensure graduates are prepared for rapidly evolving job roles. However, one of the biggest challenges is the slow pace of curriculum development in higher education.
Traditional course approval processes mean new degrees can take two to three years to develop. In fields like AI, where breakthroughs happen on a monthly rather than yearly basis, this presents a serious risk of curricula becoming outdated before they are even launched. Universities must explore faster, more flexible course design models, such as shorter accreditation cycles, modular learning pathways, and micro-credentials.
Government-backed initiatives, such as the Institute of Coding, have demonstrated alternative models for responsive skills training. As the HE reform unfolds, universities will need to consider how existing governance structures can adapt to the demands of an AI-driven economy.
A New Skills Ecosystem: HE’s Role in the Post-2025 Landscape
The forthcoming higher education reform is expected to introduce significant policy changes, including revised funding structures, greater emphasis on employability and skills-based education, and stronger incentives for industry partnerships, particularly in STEM and digital sectors.
Higher education must position itself as a leader in skills development. The recent Universities UK (UUK) blueprint, calls for deeper collaboration between the further and higher education sectors, recognising their complementary strengths. Further education offers agility and vocational expertise, while higher education provides advanced research and higher-level skills training – together, they can create a seamless learner journey.
At the same time, national initiatives such as Skills England, the Digital Skills Partnerships, and Degree Apprenticeships present opportunities for universities to engage in long-term skills planning. The integration of Lifelong Learning Entitlement (LLE) loans will further support continuous upskilling and career transitions, reinforcing the role of HE in lifelong workforce development.
Conclusion: Shaping the Future of HE Through Skills and Collaboration
With the HE reform announcement expected in Summer 2025, universities must act now to align with the government’s long-term skills agenda. The future of HE is being written now, and skills must be at the heart of it.
