Browsing in a good bookshop sure beats scouring the internet for things to read. And when I was recently in my local independent bookshop (the Book House in Thame since you ask), I stumbled across a new biography of Donald Trump focusing on his pre-politics business career. Seeing that the book, Lucky Loser: How Donald Trump squandered his father’s fortune and created the illusion of success by Russ Buettner and Susanne Craig, included a section on Trump University, I snapped it up.
Every leader’s weaknesses are clear before they rise to power if you look in the right places. We knew Gordon Brown’s seriousness could merge into tantrums long before the revelations about throwing phones at staff came to light, and we knew Boris Johnson’s joie de vivre hampered an eye for detail long before he caught the ball ‘from the back of the scrum’ and entered Number 10. If Nigel Farage ever makes it to the top job, as ever more people seem to be predicting, no one will be able to claim his destructive approach to politics was previously hidden.
Similarly, this new biography of Trump written by two New York Times journalists proves the US President’s weaknesses were evident beneath the bluster throughout his long business career in hotels, casinos and golf courses. If the authors are right, Trump has long been prone to taking big risks on a hunch, to acting litigiously and to seeking credit for things that aren’t his doing. The title suggests he was a Lucky Loser, though perhaps that is just an uncharitable way of saying he was a big winner against the odds.
As a businessman, the book shows how Trump began lucky, with ‘the equivalent of half a billion dollars from his father’, and ended lucky, with ‘another half billion as a reality television star’. These allowed him to take on huge debts, aided by paying as little tax as possible and reclaiming what tax he had paid whenever he could (as during Obama’s Great Recession recovery programme).
Trump’s dollars from the TV show ‘The Apprentice’ came not so much from appearance fees as from his right to half the profits from any sponsorship deals and from lending his name to all sorts of businesses attracted by his TV success, from health supplements to early video phones. These enabled him to keep afloat. But there were many lows to Trump’s business career and a number of his big projects declared bankruptcy in the 1990s and 2000s, leading the two authors to conclude, ‘He would have been better off betting on the stock market than on himself.’
If there’s one person responsible for Trump’s rise to the top, it is Mark Burnett, a British Falklands veteran who is now the United States Special Envoy to the UK. Burnett invented the TV programme ‘Survivor’ before creating an urban equivalent in The Apprentice (and later also creating ‘The Voice’). And if there’s one thing responsible for Trump’s rise it seems to be vanilla-and-mint Crest toothpaste as Proctor & Gamble were the first mass consumer company to do serious sponsorship of The Apprentice. They paid $1.1 million to get the contestants to come up with a new toothpaste, thereby drawing attention to the actual new vanilla-and-mint product sitting on shop shelves.
Ostensibly, this all has little to do with higher education. But Trump University (also known as Trump U) is one of the most notable of all the current US President’s past projects and one of the ventures undertaken just before he stood for the Presidency for the first time. Trump not only lent his name to the project, he also invested millions of dollars in return for 93% of the business –like Victor Kiam, he liked it so much he bought the company. But the authors of this book conclude the whole thing was a disaster from start to finish.
Beginning as a way to sell recorded lectures to small and medium-sized businesses, Trump University quickly moved into get-rich-quick in-person seminars. The Trump Elite Gold programme had a fee of $34,995 (about the same as the entire cost of a three-year degree in England or Wales). Prospective learners were told, ‘There are three groups of people … People who make things happen; people who wait for things to happen; and people who wonder, “What happened?”’ If you wanted to be in the first group, you were encouraged to open your wallet or else borrow the necessary fee.
One failed applicant for The Apprentice, Stephen Gilpin, found himself tapped up to work for Trump U but later wrote an exposé that claimed, ‘the focus for Trump University was purely on separating suckers from their money.’ At the time, Trump said he hand-picked the instructors, but he did no such thing. The whole venture ended up in three major lawsuits, which were settled just as Trump became President for the first time.
In the end, the story of Trump University confirms a truism: it is vital to protect the use of the term ‘University’ and to police it actively and in real time. The book serves as a reminder that – as Jo Johnson has argued persuasively on the HEPI blog – pausing new awards for University Title means the Office for Students is giving less attention to this area than it should.
It is ironic that the global leader of right-wing populism should not only have sought to establish his own ‘University’ but that, having done so, it should embody in such exaggerated form all the negatives that populists tend to ascribe to traditional universities: poor value for money; an unoriginal curriculum taught by ill-trained staff; and insufficient personal attention to students. However, if a new book being published today attacking UK and US universities, Bad Education: Why our universities are broken and how we can fix them by Matt Goodwin, is any guide to populism more generally, then the failure of Trump U has not deterred the attacks on places that actually do have the legal right to call themselves a ‘University’.
Goodwin starts with a chapter called ‘Why I decided to speak out’ though it could just have easily been called ‘The grass is always greener’ or ‘Looking back with rose-tinted spectacles’. The book’s core argument is that:
the rapid expansion of the university bureaucracy, the sharp shift to the left among university academics and the politicization of the wider system of higher education have left universities in a perilous state.
As a result, Goodwin argues, ‘our universities are not just letting down but betraying an entire generation of students.’
He notes that, as the number of EDI (Equality, Diversity, and Inclusion) champions has gone up, some types of diversity, such as diversity in academic thought, have gone down. But Goodwin is a political scientist rather than a historian and the problems he identifies are not as new as he makes out. Far-left students used to disrupt Enoch Powell, Keith Joseph and Leon Brittan when they spoke on campus; now they try and block Helen Joyce, Kathleen Stock and Jo Phoenix. The issue of whether such individuals should be allowed to speak even if some people on campus will be ‘offended’ are the same. The recourse to legislation in response is the same too: the rows of the 1980s led to the Education (No. 2) Act (1986) and the rows of today led to the Higher Education (Freedom of Speech) Act (2023).
Notably, Goodwin’s views seem to have changed even more over time than the institutions he criticises. Two decades ago, Goodwin was a progressive studying for a PhD under Professor Roger Eatwell, an expert in fascism and populism at the University of Bath, after which he moved to Manchester and Nottingham, where he worked with political scientists like Rob Ford and Philip Cowley, and thereafter to Kent. These days, Goodwin has not only given up his professorship but is found speaking at Reform UK meetings while accepting a job as a GB News presenter.
And while Goodwin says his book has been 20 years in the making, it reads like it was 20 weeks in the writing. That is not meant to be rude for the piece is pacey, personal and polemical – and all the more readable for that. But while it is based in part on others’ research – including pieces of HEPI output – it generally draws from just one well: the place inhabited by Eric Kaufman, Jonathan Haidt and Niall Ferguson. The dust jacket includes endorsements from Douglas Murray, Claire Fox and Nigel Biggar among others.
Goodwin’s pamphleteer-style of writing ensures his text has little in common with the meticulous research on recent university history by Mike Shattock or Roger Brown and Helen Carasso or Steve Jones (who will be writing his own review of the book for HEPI in due course). Nonetheless, whisper it quietly but – whether you like his general approach or not, whether you like his new acquaintances or not and whether you like his writing style or not – Matt Goodwin may have something of a point.
Universities do not always welcome or reflect the full diversity of viewpoints in the way that perhaps they should, given their business is generating and imparting knowledge. It has been said many times before by others, so it is far from original, yet that doesn’t make it false. Goodwin quotes the US economist Thomas Sowell: ‘when you hear university academics talk about diversity, ask them how many conservatives are in their sociology department.’ It seems a fair question.
But grappling with that is not easy. The best answer, Goodwin argues, is a muscular response. Rather than leaving it to the sector to resolve its own issues, he wants to see hard-nosed interventions from policymakers and regulators:
only government action and new legislation, or pressure from outside universities, can change the incentive structures on campus. This means adopting a proactive rather than a passive strategy, making it clear that the individual freedom of scholars and students is, ultimately, more important than the freedom or autonomy of the university.
At the very end, Goodwin even argues someone should ensure ‘all universities be regularly audited for academic freedom and free speech violations’, with fines for any that transgress. Yet that begs more questions than it answers: we don’t know who would do the audit or what the rules for it would be.
So there is a paradox at the heart of Goodwin’s critique. He ascribes the problems he sees to flaws in the ‘system’ whereby the number of university administrators, institutions’ central bureaucracy and the pay of vice-chancellors have all increased rapidly. But such changes have often reflected:
- external influences, such as the increase in the regulation of education (in response to scandals of the Trump U variety);
- the need to have flattering statistics (such as to present to the Treasury in the battle for public resources); and
- recognition that the old ways of working are not going to root out inappropriate behaviours (for example, sexual harassment).
Perhaps making universities more accountable to regulators and policymakers will make them bastions of free speech in the way Goodwin hopes, but might it not just clog up the lives of academics even more?
