Tag: Liberal

  • House Republicans Accuse Truman Scholarship of Liberal Bias

    House Republicans Accuse Truman Scholarship of Liberal Bias

    House Republicans held a hearing Wednesday broadcasting long-standing conservative allegations of a left-wing bias in the small, prestigious Truman Scholarship program. Witnesses called by the GOP said the winners disproportionately espouse causes such as promoting racial justice and fighting climate change—and wind up working for Democrats and left-leaning organizations—while few recipients profess interest in conservative aims.

    But rather than counter the allegations, Democrats and their invited witness largely called the proceedings a distraction from the issue of college unaffordability, which they accused the GOP of exacerbating.

    The Subcommittee on Higher Education and Workforce Development hearing reflected a trend in conservative criticism of higher ed: allegations of favoritism toward liberals and left-leaning thought within very exclusive programs, including certain Ivy League institutions. The Trump administration’s sweeping research funding cuts for particular universities—and the congressional grillings of university presidents during antisemitism hearings before Trump retook the White House—have targeted institutions that only a fraction of Americans attend.

    “The Truman Scholarship represents an appropriation of $3 million a year, and directly impacts just 50 to 60 students annually,” said Democratic witness Ashley Harrington, senior policy counsel for the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. “The cuts to the higher education safety net made in the One Big Beautiful Bill are of far greater consequence to the millions of Americans who have never even heard of the Truman Scholarship.”

    “I hope today’s conversation can shift toward making our entire higher education system more affordable and accessible for all students,” Harrington said, “instead of having a narrow, partisan dialogue about the very few who receive this elite scholarship.”

    Republicans and their witnesses—one from a conservative-leaning media outlet and two from conservative-leaning think tanks—didn’t take her up on that invitation. Jennifer Kabbany, editor in chief of The College Fix, said her outlet has been researching liberal bias in the Truman Scholarship for 10 years and argued that its recipients hold a lot of sway.

    “They’re lobbying, they’re working for lawmakers, they’re consulting, they’re working for very influential, liberal-leaning law firms,” Kabbany said. “And so they’re having a big influence on our nation’s conversation and what legislation is brought forth. This isn’t just a $3 million scholarship—this is the direction of our country.”

    The scholarship, which provides junior undergraduates up to $30,000 for a “public service–related” graduate degree, was founded as a memorial to the namesake Democratic president. Congress passed legislation creating it in 1974, and Republican president Gerald Ford signed the bill into law the next year.

    Lawmakers didn’t invite anyone from the Harry S. Truman Scholarship Foundation to testify. Rep. Burgess Owens, the Utah Republican who chairs the subcommittee, told Inside Higher Ed he didn’t know why no one from the foundation appeared. Audra McGeorge, communications director for the Education and Workforce Committee, said the full committee chooses witnesses.

    “We provided an opportunity for the Truman Scholarship program to respond to the Committee’s concerns” outlined in a letter last year citing a report on the program from the American Enterprise Institute, McGeorge said. “Since they chose not to engage with us on those issues, we did not see a productive path in repeating the outreach. So we sought out researchers who have examined this issue fairly.”

    The minority Democratic party gets to choose only one witness. Raiyana Malone, a spokesperson for the committee’s Democrats, said, “We really wanted to focus on the Big Ugly Bill cuts to higher education,” so they chose Harrington.

    The report from AEI, a conservative-leaning think tank, said that, of the 182 Truman winners between 2021 and 2023, just six espoused interest in a traditionally “conservative-leaning” cause. While numerous winners cited an interest in topics such as immigrants’ rights or racial justice, none professed interest in protecting the rights of the unborn or defending the Second Amendment, the report said.

    Frederick Hess, AEI’s director of education policy studies and co-author of the report, said the Truman Foundation began hiding past news releases and reduced the amount of biographical information on its website to prevent the replication of such studies. In an email, Tara Yglesias, the foundation’s deputy executive secretary, said its 2025 scholar listing had returned to a format used in the early 2000s partly because “scholars, particularly those working in national security and similar areas, had made requests that we not post their biographical information publicly. Additionally, significant staff time was required to keep the biographies current, even for the short time they were visible.”

    Rep. Suzanne Bonamici, an Oregon Democrat, criticized the fact that the report’s other author, Joe Pitts, didn’t disclose in the report that he was a failed applicant for the scholarship. Bonamici called Pitts “disgruntled,” which Pitts rebutted on X.

    The scholarship foundation didn’t provide Inside Higher Ed an interview Wednesday or answer some specific emailed questions. Terry Babcock-Lumish, its executive secretary, wrote in an email that while no one from the foundation was invited to testify, “We welcome Members of Congress’s assistance in raising awareness of our opportunity and hope they will encourage the colleges and universities in their districts to nominate qualified candidates.” She said it’s “a merit-based scholarship program committed to identifying aspiring leaders throughout the United States, regardless of ideology.”

    “Unless candidates apply, we cannot select them,” she wrote.

    While the Republican witnesses shared their specific issues with the program’s recruitment and selection process—including not seeking out candidates from traditionally conservative campuses—they and the Republican subcommittee members also traced the alleged liberal bias to the left-leaning nature of academe in general.

    “On the campus level, those that are deciding who gets put to the regional committees, I mean, they’re professors,” said Kabbany, of The College Fix. “And we all know, 30 to one, professors are liberals, so they’re obviously going to advance candidates who have beliefs and pet causes that they love … It’s really systemic.”

    A few Republicans, including Owens, said Congress should end the program.

    “The Truman committee and this entire process is anti-conservative,” Owens said in his closing remarks. He said, “This has been a pipeline for Democrats, no question about it … I don’t think it’s fixable.”

    Rep. Mark Harris, a North Carolina Republican, said, “It’s deeply ironic to me that taxpayers who also never attended college, just like [President] Truman himself, are now forced to fund elite postgraduate degrees for a handpicked few. In my opinion, the federal government has no business running a scholarship program at all.” (According to the Truman Library, Harry S. Truman attended a business college for one year before dropping out to help with his father’s business.)

    Two Republicans—current New York gubernatorial candidate Elise Stefanik and Rep. Randy Fine, a staunchly pro-Israel Florida Republican who has said, “We have a Muslim problem in America”—accused the program of fostering antisemitism. “This, to me, is beyond liberal bias,” Fine said. “This is a flat-out embrace of Muslim terror and [represents] the fact that U.S. taxpayer dollars are being used to fund terrorists.”

    Fine, who is Jewish, said, “I have zero desire to reform the Truman fellowship. I’m not interested in borrowing $3 million from my children and grandchildren to give it to people who would like to kill them, so I believe we should shut down the program.” (Fine also made a point to say he wasn’t asking questions of Adam Kissel, a Republican witness, because of Kissel’s connection to the Heritage Foundation, which many conservatives accuse of tolerating antisemitism.)

    Stefanik, who is on the scholarship foundation’s board, cited a 2025 Truman scholar who “publicly espoused support for Hamas,” adding, “We need to address this rise in antisemitism with some of the recipients.”

    Eva Frazier, the Truman recipient whom Stefanik has publicly named in the past, told Inside Higher Ed in an email, “Congresswoman Stefanik’s comments followed a long pattern of politicians attempting to scare students into silence for speaking out about the Palestinian cause, but we refuse to be intimidated by such attacks.”

    Rep. Tim Walberg, a Michigan Republican and chair of the Education and Workforce Committee, said the alleged Truman Scholarship issues are “illustrative of so much that goes on.”

    “We’re seeing a bias in opposition to the American idea,” he said. “That isn’t liberal or conservative—it’s American.”

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  • Tax Policy Belongs in Liberal Arts Curriculum (opinion)

    Tax Policy Belongs in Liberal Arts Curriculum (opinion)

    As congressional Republicans scratched and clawed to pass President Trump’s signature policy effort, the One Big Beautiful Bill Act—a sprawling, tax-heavy package celebrated as much for its branding as for its contents—it is notable how few people could explain what exactly was in it. Tax cuts for some, probably. A Social Security bonus, maybe. A gutting of public benefits, almost certainly. What is clear, though, is that the bill’s complexity was always in service of its politics: When no one understands tax policy, it’s much easier to sell whatever story you want.

    That confusion is exactly why we should be teaching tax policy more broadly—not just in sparsely attended law school classes and accounting departments, but in general education curricula and first-year seminars. Tax isn’t just a technical rule-following subject; it’s a civic one. Tax policy shapes everything from fairness and inequality to the functional shape of the state itself. Yet, most students will graduate college without ever being asked to consider what tax is for—much less whom it helps, whom it harms and why it remains so easy to obscure.

    That is precisely the starting point for the course I designed at Drexel University, Introduction to Tax Theory and Policy, which I teach in our innovative undergraduate law major, housed at the Thomas R. Kline School of Law. It’s not a course for aspiring tax attorneys, prospective C.P.A.s or Excel mavens—few of my students intend to practice tax law. They’re interested in criminal or family law, or they’re business majors, future social workers, engineers or undecided second-years. But they’re all taxpayers—and that’s the relevant bit.

    Courses like mine aim to democratize access to legal and policy tools so that all students, irrespective of their major, can become more informed and empowered participants in civic life. In class, we don’t parse tax rates or calculate deductions. No calculators are required, and at no point is anyone expected to consider the straight-line depreciation of an apartment complex. We ask why the system is built the way it is, and we talk about the power that it reflects and protects. We talk about values: what kinds of behavior the tax code encourages or punishes. We talk about trust and legitimacy: What happens when people believe the system is rigged, and what if they’re right? In short, we treat tax not as a set of arcane rules and rates to memorize, but as a lens through which we can better understand the power structures we live under.

    The surprising part (at least to me, when I first taught it and admittedly just hoped I wouldn’t be lecturing to an empty room) is how much students connect with this approach. More than connect with it—they often enjoy it. I’ve received feedback from students that describes the class as life-changing and course reviews that have noted how it changed assumptions regarding what tax even is. High praise from 19- and 20-year-olds.

    The course itself draws on philosophy, political theory, economics and law—but what it really cultivates is a kind of civic literacy. It asks students to think about who they are in relation to the state and how much of their future may be shaped by the tax policy they’ve never been taught to see. For many, it is the first time they’ve encountered taxation not as something to dodge, but as something to question, debate and reimagine in furtherance of their own values.

    In one session, we explore how the tax code is employed as a kind of soft steering wheel in the economy—how it at turns encourages homeownership, subsidizes sports stadiums, directs corporate research and development, and shapes (or even outright creates) the market for electric vehicles. Another week, we explore estate taxes and inheritance: not just who pays, but what it means to redistribute wealth across generations and what happens when we don’t. We read Garrett Hardin’s “The Tragedy of the Commons,” engage in spirited debates about the potential for tax to solve the artificial intelligence copyright debate, and unpack why TurboTax spent two decades fighting free filing.

    Over the course of the class, the question shifts away from what is a tax and toward whose values does this system reflect? That shift—from mere definitional awareness to focused critical engagement—is when I know the class is working. Students cease to see tax as someone else’s problem and begin seeing it as a potent tool of and for democracy.

    In their final papers, students have proposed remarkably forward-looking and sophisticated tax policy reforms—reflecting both creativity and civic seriousness. One student argued that companies receiving public subsidies through tax credits, like chemical and drug manufacturers, should be barred from claiming additional credits to remediate harms their products create. Another proposed a data-collection “sin tax” aimed at discouraging exploitative surveillance practices by tech companies. These aren’t rote academic exercises. They’re thoughtful intervention proposals that treat tax as a lever for shaping society.

    If tax policy determines who gets what, who pays for it and how the government keeps a hand in the marketplace, then it belongs squarely at the heart of a liberal arts education. We don’t cabin discussions of justice in law schools, and we don’t isolate questions of the public good in policy programs—why do we treat taxation, which intersects with both and innumerable other facets of modern life, as off-limits or too technical for undergraduates?

    This isn’t a plea to teach undergraduates to file their own taxes—though there is probably a case to be made for that, too. It’s about ensuring curricula help them understand how the world works and how it’s been designed to work for some more than others. That means tackling the politics of Internal Revenue Service funding, exploring how “tax relief” often functions as an upstream transfer of wealth and how a positively sprawling bill like the one recently passed through Congress can obscure much more than it reveals.

    If no one understands how tax policy works, how can anyone meaningfully weigh in on whether they support one revenue bill or another? On issues like immigration, abortion or education funding, many people bring at least some passing knowledge or lived experience to the conversation. Tax remains, for most, a black box. The more opaque it becomes, the more tempting it is for lawmakers to retreat into it—tucking major redistributive choices into the shadows of the tax code, where they can be shielded from public scrutiny.

    On the other hand, when students come to see tax as a form of the civic superstructure—something they live within and not just under—they are empowered to not only understand tax policy but to shape it. That should be one of the goals of any serious undergraduate education.

    We don’t have to, and should not, keep treating tax as one professional niche within other professional niches. If we want students to understand how tax relates to power, fairness and democratic participation, we should give them the tools to talk about it. This needn’t focus on the rates and rules but should illustrate the values taxes reflect and trade-offs they embed.

    Courses like mine don’t require a background in economics, accounting or law. They require a willingness to take seriously the idea that how we tax equates to how we govern. If we can help students see tax not as a source of dread or line item on their paycheck, but as the site of collective economic decision-making, we don’t just produce better-informed graduates—we’ll also produce more engaged citizens.

    Andrew Leahey is a practice professor of law at Drexel University’s Thomas R. Kline School of Law.

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  • AI, Irreality and the Liberal Educational Project (opinion)

    AI, Irreality and the Liberal Educational Project (opinion)

    I work at Marquette University. As a Roman Catholic, Jesuit university, we’re called to be an academic community that, as Pope John Paul II wrote, “scrutinize[s] reality with the methods proper to each academic discipline.” That’s a tall order, and I remain in the academy, for all its problems, because I find that job description to be the best one on offer, particularly as we have the honor of practicing this scrutinizing along with ever-renewing groups of students.

    This bedrock assumption of what a university is continues to give me hope for the liberal educational project despite the ongoing neoliberalization of higher education and some administrators’ and educators’ willingness to either look the other way regarding or uncritically celebrate the generative software (commonly referred to as “generative artificial intelligence”) explosion over the last two years.

    In the time since my last essay in Inside Higher Ed, and as Marquette’s director of academic integrity, I’ve had plenty of time to think about this and to observe praxis. In contrast to the earlier essay, which was more philosophical, let’s get more practical here about how access to generative software is impacting higher education and our students and what we might do differently.

    At the academic integrity office, we recently had a case in which a student “found an academic article” by prompting ChatGPT to find one for them. The chat bot obeyed, as mechanisms do, and generated a couple pages of text with a title. This was not from any actual example of academic writing but instead was a statistically probable string of text having no basis in the real world of knowledge and experience. The student made a short summary of that text and submitted it. They were, in the end, not found in violation of Marquette’s honor code, since what they submitted was not plagiarized. It was a complex situation to analyze and interpret, done by thoughtful people who care about the integrity of our academic community: The system works.

    In some ways, though, such activity is more concerning than plagiarism, for, at least when students plagiarize, they tend to know the ways they are contravening social and professional codes of conduct—the formalizations of our principles of working together honestly. In this case, the student didn’t see the difference between a peer-reviewed essay published by an academic journal and a string of probabilistically generated text in a chat bot’s dialogue box. To not see the difference between these two things—or to not care about that difference—is more disconcerting and concerning to me than straightforward breaches of an honor code, however harmful and sad such breaches are.

    I already hear folks saying: “That’s why we need AI literacy!” We do need to educate our students (and our colleagues) on what generative software is and is not. But that’s not enough. Because one also needs to want to understand and, as is central to the Ignatian Pedagogical Paradigm that we draw upon at Marquette, one must understand in context.

    Another case this spring term involved a student whom I had spent several months last fall teaching in a writing course that took “critical AI” as its subject matter. Yet this spring term the student still used a chat bot to “find a quote in a YouTube video” for an assignment and then commented briefly on that quote. The problem was that the quote used in the assignment does not appear in the selected video. It was a simulacrum of a quote; it was a string of probabilistically generated text, which is all generative software can produce. It did not accurately reflect reality, and the student did not cite the chat bot they’d copied and pasted from, so they were found in violation of the honor code.

    Another student last term in the Critical AI class prompted Microsoft Copilot to give them quotations from an essay, which it mechanically and probabilistically did. They proceeded to base their three-page argument on these quotations, none of which said anything like what the author in question actually said (not even the same topic); their argument was based in irreality. We cannot scrutinize reality together if we cannot see reality. And many of our students (and colleagues) are, at least at times, not seeing reality right now. They’re seeing probabilistic text as “good enough” as, or conflated with, reality.

    Let me point more precisely to the problem I’m trying to put my finger on. The student who had a chat bot “find” a quote from a video sent an email to me, which I take to be completely in earnest and much of which I appreciated. They ended the email by letting me know that they still think that “AI” is a really powerful and helpful tool, especially as it “continues to improve.” The cognitive dissonance between the situation and the student’s assertion took me aback.

    Again: the problem with the “We just need AI literacy” argument. People tend not to learn what they do not want to learn. If our students (and people generally) do not particularly want to do work, and they have been conditioned by the use of computing and their society’s habits to see computing as an intrinsic good, “AI” must be a powerful and helpful tool. It must be able to do all the things that all the rich and powerful people say it does. It must not need discipline or critical acumen to employ, because it will “supercharge” your productivity or give you “10x efficiency” (whatever that actually means). And if that’s the case, all these educators telling you not to offload your cognition must be behind the curve, or reactionaries. At the moment, we can teach at least some people all about “AI literacy” and it will not matter, because such knowledge refuses to jibe with the mythology concerning digital technology so pervasive in our society right now.

    If we still believe in the value of humanistic, liberal education, we cannot be quiet about these larger social systems and problems that shape our pupils, our selves and our institutions. We cannot be quiet about these limits of vision and questioning. Because not only do universities exist for the scrutinizing of reality with the various methods of the disciplines as noted at the outset of this essay, but liberal education also assumes a view of the human person that does not see education as instrumental but as formative.

    The long tradition of liberal education, for all its complicity in social stratification down the centuries, assumes that our highest calling is not to make money, to live in comfort, to be entertained. (All three are all right in their place, though we must be aware of how our moneymaking, comfort and entertainment derive from the exploitation of the most vulnerable humans and the other creatures with whom we share the earth, and how they impact our own spiritual health.)

    We are called to growth and wisdom, to caring for the common good of the societies in which we live—which at this juncture certainly involves caring for our common home, the Earth, and the other creatures living with us on it. As Antiqua et nova, the note released from the Vatican’s Dicastery for Culture and Education earlier this year (cited commendingly by secular ed-tech critics like Audrey Watters) reiterates, education plays its role in this by contributing “to the person’s holistic formation in its various aspects (intellectual, cultural, spiritual, etc.) … in keeping with the nature and dignity of the human person.”

    These objectives of education are not being served by students using generative software to satisfy their instructors’ prompts. And no amount of “literacy” is going to ameliorate the situation on its own. People have to want to change, or to see through the neoliberal, machine-obsessed myth, for literacy to matter.

    I do believe that the students I’ve referred to are generally striving for the good as they know how. On a practical level, I am confident they’ll go on to lead modestly successful lives as our society defines that term with regard to material well-being. I assume their motivation is not to cause harm or dupe their instructors; they’re taking part in “hustle” culture, “doing school” and possibly overwhelmed by all their commitments. Even if all this is indeed the case, liberal education calls us to more, and it’s the role of instructors and administrators to invite our students into that larger vision again and again.

    If we refuse to give up on humanistic, liberal education, then what do we do? The answer is becoming clearer by the day, with plenty of folks all over the internet weighing in, though it is one many of us do not really want to hear. Because at least one major part of the answer is that we need to make an education genuinely oriented toward our students. A human-scale education, not an industrial-scale education (let’s recall over and over that computers are industrial technology). The grand irony of the generative software moment for education in neoliberal, late-capitalist society is that it is revealing so many of the limits we’ve been putting on education in the first place.

    If we can’t “AI literacy” our educational problems away, we have to change our pedagogy. We have to change the ways we interact with our students inside the classroom and out: to cultivate personal relationships with them whenever possible, to model the intellectual life as something that is indeed lived out with the whole person in a many-partied dialogue stretching over millennia, decidedly not as the mere ability to move information around. This is not a time for dismay or defeat but an incitement to do the experimenting, questioning, joyful intellectual work many of us have likely wanted to do all along but have not had a reason to go off script for.

    This probably means getting creative. Part of getting creative in our day probably means de-computing (as Dan McQuillan at the University of London labels it). To de-compute is to ask ourselves—given our ambient maximalist computing habits of the last couple decades—what is of value in this situation? What is important here? And then: Does a computer add value to this that it is not detracting from in some other way? Computers may help educators collect assignments neatly and read them clearly, but if that convenience is outweighed by constantly having to wonder if a student has simply copied and pasted or patch-written text with generative software, is the value of the convenience worth the problems?

    Likewise, getting creative in our day probably means looking at the forms of our assessments. If the highly structured student essay makes it easier for instructors to assess because of its regularity and predictability, yet that very regularity and predictability make it a form that chat bots can produce fairly readily, well: 1) the value for assessing may not be worth the problems of teeing up chat bot–ifiable assignments and 2) maybe that wasn’t the best form for inviting genuinely insightful and exciting intellectual engagement with our disciplines’ materials in the first place.

    I’ve experimented with research journals rather than papers, with oral exams as structured conversations, with essays that focus intently on one detail of a text and do not need introductions and conclusions and that privilege the student’s own voice, and other in-person, handmade, leaving-the-classroom kinds of assessments over the last academic year. Not everything succeeded the way I wanted, but it was a lively, interactive year. A convivial year. A year in which mostly I did not have to worry about whether students were automating their educations.

    We have a chance as educators to rethink everything in light of what we want for our societies and for our students; let’s not miss it because it’s hard to redesign assignments and courses. (And it is hard.) Let’s experiment, for our own sakes and for our students’ sakes. Let’s experiment for the sakes of our institutions that, though they are often scoffed at in our popular discourse, I hope we believe in as vibrant communities in which we have the immense privilege of scrutinizing reality together.

    Jacob Riyeff is a teaching associate professor and director of academic integrity at Marquette University.

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  • Integrating Systems Thinking to Enhance Liberal Arts Curriculum through Learner-Centered Teaching – Faculty Focus

    Integrating Systems Thinking to Enhance Liberal Arts Curriculum through Learner-Centered Teaching – Faculty Focus

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