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Even when faced with pressure and threats from almost all sides, the actual, individual people shaping the education of our children will not let themselves be cowed.
There is a looming threat to K-12 public education in America, but it is not only the substantial amount of laws restricting what can be taught in classrooms. The equally profound danger is that we are allowing a narrow political narrative to overshadow what is actually happening inside schools.
National pundits and scholars frame “the law” as a singular force indoctrinating students, obscuring the fact that we are dealing with a patchwork of rapidly evolving laws. While these legal shifts are detrimental, a more comprehensive understanding requires considering the lived experiences of educators, students, and the organizations that navigate them. The threat is not simply complacency to this “silent majority.” It is also the refusal to recognize that our schools are not homogeneous battlegrounds, but diverse communities experiencing these political pressures in very different ways.
The problem is not “the law,” it is the laws, plural, rushed through statehouses by politicians eager to score cultural points without any clarity on implementation or impact. Political influence on standards is nothing new, but recent controversies have reached a fever pitch as conservative lawmakers push divisive-concepts bills restricting topics such as race, gender, and LGBTQ+ rights.
In 2022, the South Carolina legislature debated bills banning The 1619 Project and any content feared to make white students “feel guilty.” Today, 35% of K-12 students attend school in states with anti-critical race theory laws. By 2023, 65% of history teachers reported limiting political discussions. As one Ohio teacher put it, “It’s tough for teachers to stick their neck out… you just see the attack on teachers increasing over and over again.”
While the legislators passing these laws attempt to rally popular support behind a narrative that they are the “silent majority,” we can’t let them obscure their genuine presence as simply a highly outspoken minority.
For example, New Hampshire is facing restrictive “divisive-concepts” laws, dwindling public school funding, and bounties on teachers that Moms for Liberty hopes to “catch.” As much as Moms for Liberty promotes its bounty as protection for children, the bounty serves one exclusive purpose. To instigate fear among educators, parents, and the broader public.
But this fear is largely baseless. Despite its efforts to intrude into the classroom and attack teachers, Moms for Liberty has remained unsuccessful. Even with a $500 cash prize on the line, not a single teacher was “caught” and fired for Moms for Liberty’s agenda. It’s as if, when investigated, teachers are not posing dangers to students. Rather, they are trained educators fighting for the strong democratic education of the nation's children.
While the legislators passing these laws attempt to rally popular support behind a narrative that they are the “silent majority,” we can’t let them obscure their genuine presence as simply a highly outspoken minority.
Legislative activity across the nation is also propagating fear among educators. But these bills are poorly crafted, vague, lacking expert input, and inconsistent with the First Amendment and academic freedom. While these threatening bills infiltrate news headlines, most of them have no real power. In 2024, 56 educational gag orders were filed, but only 8 were actually implemented. These are also new lows for proposed and implemented gag orders compared with the last few years.
Instead, we continue to see bipartisan opposition to politicized state lawmakers making choices about the content in K-12 schools. In 2024, we saw the first successful challenges to K-12 gag orders in court. Groups like Moms for Liberty remain unpopular among the public. Moms for Liberty and the 1776 Project continue to suffer electoral losses, with their publicly endorsed candidates losing about 70% of their races nationwide in 2023.
Bearing this in mind, we must continue to hold strong against these loud (but little) groups. Although they’ve mastered the art of amplifying their voices and distracting us with frightening news headlines, we cannot succumb to their scare tactics and must continue to make informed decisions based on our own investigation.
Furthermore, beyond the failures of these scare tactics, perhaps one of the most profound places to look for hope is in the actions of individual teachers across the United States. Here, we will draw on the testimonies of three different teachers, whom we interviewed as part of an Amherst College course on the polarization of social studies education. Although they cannot single-handedly represent the entire nation, their words have been echoed throughout the sources and interviews we have examined in our class.
What these teachers can show us is that, even when faced with pressure and threats from almost all sides, the actual, individual people shaping the education of our children will not let themselves be cowed.
Even as some parents threaten the livelihoods and lives of teachers, a teacher in Florida makes the effort to reach out to the parents of the children he teaches, creating a parent-teacher relationship based on trust and respect, not hatred and anger. Even as legislators try to write teachers out of their laws, a teacher from Ohio continues to demand that his voice be heard and has ensured that, over the past six years, not a single bill has been passed that was not approved by the coalition of Ohio teachers. Even as the politicians in Washington squabble like children, a teacher in Arkansas crafts a classroom where the children she teaches learn to engage in civil debate and learn to disagree on a topic while still remaining friends.
All three of these teachers—and thousands more across the country—continue, quietly, to educate the nation's children with kindness and nuance, even as the politicians in the Capitol do their best to sabotage the fundamental educational structures of the United States.
So don’t give up, don’t let them win. Don’t let them write a story that places teachers as the villains.
Don’t let them make you forget how hope endures and that the strength of the educational system lies maybe not in the laws that politicians apply to it, but instead in the individuals who dedicate their lives to ensuring children can learn and play and will grow to shape the future of this country.
The right-wing effort to infringe on students' right to learn is an effort to hobble higher education as a force for creating a more just society.
We who believe in the value of academic freedom have been disheartened these past two years as quisling administrators at some of America’s once-great universities have caved to political pressure to quash protests, cancel courses, and limit professorial speech that is critical of inequalities in US society and US foreign policy.
These attacks on academic freedom are usually framed as threats to the freedom of faculty to conduct research, publish, speak, and teach, based on disciplinary expertise, without outside political interference. This portrayal of the threat, as true as it is, misses a key point: Also under attack are students’ rights to learn. The right-wing effort to infringe these rights is an effort to hobble higher education as a force for creating a more just society.
Long ago, as an undergrad in an introduction to physical anthropology course, I played a game we called stump the prof. It wasn’t a real game; it was just a few of us trying to liven things up by asking questions we thought would be hard or impossible to answer. The prof was young and upbeat, as I recall, and never seemed put out by our antics, though he no doubt saw what we were doing. I think he liked the energy. One time I asked if apes had orgasms. That got people’s attention.
In that class, taught 50 years ago at a public university, we as students felt free to ask whatever occurred to us (within the bounds of physical anthropology, of course). Our exercise of that freedom is part of what made the class memorable. We weren’t just amusing ourselves or bugging the prof. It might sound self-congratulatory, given that our motives weren’t entirely noble, but we were wringing a lot more knowledge out of the course than we might otherwise have gotten.
The worry is that students will develop the ability to question received truths, see through the ideologies that justify social and economic inequalities, and resist manipulative political rhetoric that bypasses rationality.
What was true back then is true today: How much students learn in college depends on the opportunities they’re given. When a course is scratched from the catalog, students miss out on the knowledge that would have been available to them in that course. Students lose out, too, when certain concepts are proscribed, or when faculty self-censor for fear that discussing those concepts and related topics might get them in trouble. That’s why interference with the ability of faculty to teach what they deem important infringes on the right to learn.
Suppose, for example, that students wanted to ask how conventional gender expectations constrain our humanity. That’s a serious question deserving a serious answer. It’s a question that might be asked in a sociology or gender studies course. But if no such course exists, or if an instructor feels compelled to say, “Sorry, a group of politicians has made it too risky to talk about such stuff,” students are kept from learning. That’s a betrayal of what higher education has promised them: freedom to ask questions, freedom to pursue their curiosity, freedom to grow through the acquisition of vetted knowledge.
Right-wing ideological warriors and politicians would like to leave students in the dark about many other troublesome things: institutional racism, white supremacy, the exploitation of labor, the global havoc wreaked by US imperialism, the domination of government by corporate capitalists and the very wealthy. In relation to these matters, there is much that needs to be faced up to and talked about if we hope to understand how our society works and how to make it work better. And, yes, some courage is required.
Suppose students asked how it is possible for racial disparities—in income, wealth, education, health status—to persist even when most people overtly disavow racism. That’s another question that deserves an answer. It’s also a question that can be answered based on decades of social science research. Students shouldn’t be denied the opportunity to ask these questions and get answers because the topic makes some people uncomfortable. We should not let discomfort be weaponized to protect ignorance.
Students might also want to know how it’s possible for some people to enjoy privilege and not know it. Or how racism has historically supercharged capitalism. Again, these are all legitimate matters for university-level inquiry. But they’re also threatening to politicians who, on the one hand, serve economic elites and, on the other hand, exploit popular prejudices to mobilize voters. That’s the real reason for right-wing attacks on the disciplines and courses where students can learn about our society’s inequalities, past and present.
Critics of intellectual spaces in which students can learn to think critically about US society often claim they want to protect students from liberal indoctrination. But it’s not really indoctrination they worry about. The worry is that students will develop the ability to question received truths, see through the ideologies that justify social and economic inequalities, and resist manipulative political rhetoric that bypasses rationality. Education that imparts these abilities is indeed “liberal,” in the classical sense of being liberating. Which is the opposite of indoctrination.
Universities are dangerous places—or they can be, when faculty are free to pursue the truth even if the results disturb political and economic elites; when faculty are free to teach what they have found through their research and scholarship; and when students are free to ask tough, even off-the-wall, questions. But of course the danger is not to those who want to inquire critically about social inequalities, or employ concepts that might upend common sense, or to teach and learn about these matters. The danger is not to those who seek in good faith to fulfill the promises of higher education. It is to those whose power and privilege depend on keeping these promises from being met.
The university at large has sold out our students, but the university is not all of us. There are hundreds of faculty on this campus dedicated to the right of our students to learn, debate, protest, research, and report without fear.
On September 17, 2025, one month before I was to teach my annual social justice reporting class at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism, the campus lowered its flag to half-mast in honor of far-right pontificator Charlie Kirk.
Nobody deserves to be murdered, as Kirk was, but to honor a man of his white supremacist, Christian nationalist, and misogynist beliefs was to spit in the face not only of all the women on campus, but of students and staff of color; the queer and trans students and employees whose identities he characterized as “abominations“; the Muslims whose religion, he said, “is a sword being used to slit the throat of America“; the immigrants he insisted will “replace us” with their “anti-white agenda”; and the Jews he accused of controlling America’s institutions.
Columbia did not have to lower that flag. President Donald Trump ordered federal institutions to do so, but the university is private, not part of the government. No, lowering the flag was a choice.
That Columbia made such a choice is nothing short of astounding, given that its past two years of capitulations to the Trump administration have rested upon the school’s promise to protect its Jewish students and staff from antisemitism. As our current acting president, Claire Shipman, wrote to the university community this past summer in classic Orwellian double-speak:
While Columbia does not admit to wrongdoing… the institution’s leaders have recognized, repeatedly, that Jewish students and faculty have experienced painful, unacceptable incidents, and that reform was and is needed.
So why honor a man who espoused Nazi conspiracy theories?
I bring this up because this flag business was only the latest example of the groveling submission Columbia’s trustees have shown toward this country’s proto-authoritarian government since the 2023 student protests against Israel’s genocide in Gaza gave Republicans the idea of using accusations of antisemitism to attack liberal arts colleges.
Allow me to illustrate with a brief history of this groveling.
In 2023, not long after the horrific Hamas attack on Israeli citizens and Israel’s insanely outsized retaliatory slaughter of tens of thousands of Palestinians, Columbia called in the police against our nonviolent student protesters, locked down the campus for the first time in history, and suspended both its own and Barnard undergraduates, most of them teenage girls, in punishment.
That same year, Columbia’s administration allowed Trumpian Christian nationalists to define who was antisemitic and who wasn’t. It succumbed to and accepted the right-wing false narrative that the campus was rife with Jew haters. And it refused to stand up for the Palestinian, Muslim, Arab, and Jewish students who were being harassed, threatened, and doxxed on and off campus for protesting Israel’s murderous policies.
In 2024, Columbia groveled even more. It kept the campus locked down (as it does to this day). It put in place so many rules governing protests that it effectively squashed the ability of students to voice their opposition to Israel’s genocide, or even to the government of President Donald Trump. And it refused to offer any support to Palestinian students Mahmoud Khalil and Mohsen Mahdawi when they were arrested and detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in violation of their First Amendment rights, or when their visas were revoked.
Other universities have not been so cowardly. For example, when Bard College student and Afghan refugee Ali Sajad Faqirzada, who had fled the Taliban regime with his sister, was arrested and detained by ICE at his asylum hearing this October, Bard president Leon Botstein offered him instant support. He contacted the student’s family, mustered local officials to help the family, and sent a letter to the government advocating for Faqirzada’s release. He also issued a statement vowing to stand up for Faqirzada and informing other Bard students of their rights. These were the kinds of morally sound actions we have yet to see from any of our presidents or trustees at Columbia.
In 2025, after Trump and his minions snatched $400 million away from Columbia, crippling the ability of our scientists and medical researchers to do their work, the university’s capitulations plummeted to even greater depths.
It suspended and even expelled anti-war students for having protested on behalf of slaughtered and starving Palestinians by occupying the campus library.
It agreed to comply with Trump’s ban on DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) by no longer using “race, color, sex, or national origin” when hiring anyone or even when admitting students, thus giving in to the Trumpian goal of creating a university largely filled with white, heterosexual, Christian men.
Columbia ought to haul itself up before the OIE for the act of lowering its flag for antisemite Charlie Kirk.
It put the Middle Eastern, South Asian, and African Studies department under special provost supervision or receivership.
It agreed to pay more than $200 million over the next three years in blood money to the Trump administration to restore our funding. (Is it a surprise that my colleagues and I had our salaries frozen this year? And what will Trump do with our school’s money—build a villa in Gaza?)
Columbia also agreed to pay a further $21 million to—in the words of the White House PR machine—“resolve alleged civil rights violations against Jewish employees that occurred following the October 7, 2023 Hamas attack on Israel.” I am sure not a penny of that money will go to Palestinian employees and students whose family members were wounded or killed in Gaza, or who suffered from Islamophobic harassment from other students and outsiders. Nor is it likely that any of that money will be given to the many Jewish students who were manhandled, arrested, and punished for protesting genocide.
Columbia made other concessions as well, too numerous to list here. But among the most egregious was its incorporation of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism, which conflates any criticism of the state of Israel with hatred of Jews. This set off alarms among many of our faculty members, Jewish and otherwise, who know that scholars have long rejected the IHRA definition as restricting free speech and academic freedom, and as nakedly antidemocratic.
Yet, in a summer letter to Columbia’s faculty and staff, president Shipman not only proudly announced the school’s incorporation of IHRA, but made it clear that any of us who don’t comply with that definition could be brought before the University’s Office of Institutional Equity (OIE) and censored or even fired.
Under that directive, Columbia ought to haul itself up before the OIE for the act of lowering its flag for antisemite Charlie Kirk.
Adding insult to injury, Columbia’s Task Force on Anti-Semitism, a committee of professors who spearheaded the dubious claim that our campus was riddled with anti-Jewish sentiment, offered not a peep of objection to the campus lowering of that flag. When I asked one of the Task Force’s architects why, he told me that the committee “does not issue statements.” The hypocrisy of a university that forms a task force against antisemitism and then honors a man like Kirk is, to put it mildly, mind-boggling.
Columbia’s faculty members have hardly remained silent in the face of all these capitulations. Many of us, including a large cohort of Jewish professors, have protested, rallied, held vigils, and met with our rapid rotation of presidents, as well as with the school’s trustees, to try to urge academic integrity for our campus and protect our students’ right to debate, question, and protest.
One of the most recent of these faculty actions occurred on September 29, when a group of professors, most of them Jewish, gathered at the sundial in the center of campus to speak out against this adoption of the IHRA’s definition of antisemitism. I joined to watch and listen, while the crowd around them grew.
The speakers explained why the IHRA makes it impossible for them to teach classes on the history of Israel and Palestine, on Islam, or even on Middle Eastern history in general, and leaves any of us who teach anything someone might deem critical of Israel vulnerable to being punished for discriminating against Jews—even if we are Jewish.
One of the speakers, Professor Emeritus Marianne Hirsch, a scholar of trauma and memory, pointed out the real-life dangers in IHRA’s conflation of criticism of Israel with the hatred of all Jews:
This conflation has made [IHRA] the preferred definition of the Israeli state, the Trump administration and authoritarian forces throughout the world who seek to silence those who stand in solidarity with Palestine. The IHRA definition has been cited as the basis for reporting international students, Trump’s travel ban, defunding universities, arresting protesters, and even targeting human rights organizations.
Hirsch then added, “Please note that the incorporation of IHRA was not part of Columbia’s deal with the Trump administration.”
In other words, its incorporation of IHRA was a preemptive concession. Like lowering that flag for Kirk, it was a choice.
To top off all these concessions, Columbia made a truly chilling move. Last summer, it agreed to appoint an “independent monitor” to play the Orwellian Big Brother role of watching to make sure that we faculty comply with all of the above rules. The agreement states that this monitor, chosen jointly with the Trump administration, will have access to “all agreement-related individuals, facilities, disciplinary hearings, and the scene of any occurrence that the monitor deems necessary,” as well as “all documents and data related to the agreement.”
The reaction of the American Association of University Professors (AAUP), the closest thing we have to a union, was swift and dramatic. Calling the appointment of this monitor an unprecedented disaster, AAUP issued the following statement:
Allowing the government to monitor and ultimately dictate decisions about the hiring of faculty and admission of students is a stunning breach of the independence of colleges and universities and opens the door for the ideological control this administration so eagerly craves. This is an extremely dangerous precedent that will have tremendous consequences for the sector.
In a clear-eyed assessment of what Columbia’s concessions really mean, several authors at the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia wrote this last August:
The settlement is an astonishing transfer of autonomy and authority to… an administration whose disdain for the values of the academy is demonstrated anew every day. It will have far-reaching implications for free speech and academic freedom at Columbia.
The authors went on to say in academic jargon what many of us had been saying all along: When you give a bully what he wants, he only demands more. “Indeed,” they concluded, “the settlement itself gives the administration an array of new tools to use in the service of its coercive campaign.”
It makes me wonder what comes next. Flags with Trump’s face on them all over campus? Forced pledges of allegiance to him? After all, Iraq’s dictator Saddam Hussein did it. Why not Donald Trump?
For now, however, we faculty are stuck with Columbia as it is. In my case, this means that I must teach social justice journalism not only under the cloud of the Kirk aftermath, with professors and employees being fired or chased out of the country for daring to criticize that purveyor of hate, but with the IHRA sword of Damocles dangling over my head.
Social justice journalism is essentially about covering the ways in which the powerless are oppressed by the powerful—that is, a manifestation of Joseph Pulitzer’s mantra that journalism should “afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted.” This means that just about every topic my students will cover flies in the face of all that the Trump government wants to suppress and might well come up against Columbia’s new rules, too.
What if one of my students should want to cover the deportation hearings for Columbia student Mohsen Mahdawi, for instance? Or a speech by our former student, the once-imprisoned Mahmoud Khalil? Will even a mention of a Palestinian activist be deemed antisemitic now? Will quoting someone who criticizes Kirk or Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu be grounds for expulsion? Can we report on Planned Parenthood or transphobia, the ICE persecution of brown and Black immigrants, the ongoing climate catastrophe, environmental racism, violence against women, or Islamophobia? Can we talk about social justice at all?
Such students represent the generation that is going to have to claw back capitulations and hold onto integrity in the face of truly hard times.
However, the aspect of teaching that worries me the most is how Columbia’s capitulation will affect my students’ trust in one another. I don’t want anyone to be afraid that someone will snitch on them and get them punished, suspended, expelled, bullied online, deported, or otherwise silenced. I want to foster a culture of camaraderie and trust in my classroom, not suspicion and fear.
But students are afraid. Just a couple of weeks ago, I spoke on a campus panel to a group of young women undergraduates of color, several of whom are international students. They told us that (with reason) they’re afraid to protest, post anything political, or speak out at all. They’re afraid that their visas will be revoked, their degrees and futures whisked away. They’re afraid of being kidnapped from campus and disappeared by ICE.
This makes me worry that my students, too, will censor themselves out of fear, a dangerous scenario indeed. A journalist who is afraid to publish the truth or question power can’t be a journalist at all.
That said, there is nothing like sitting in a classroom full of journalism students to give one hope. It’s uplifting to know that there are still young people out there who want to be reporters, who are dedicated to evidence-based facts, who have compassion for the downtrodden and still see journalism as essential to upholding democracy. Such students represent the generation that is going to have to claw back capitulations and hold onto integrity in the face of truly hard times.
So, yes, the university at large has sold out our students. But the university is not all of us. There are hundreds of faculty on this campus dedicated to the right of our students to learn, debate, protest, research, and report without fear.
The task now is to keep up their courage—and our own fight.
Let’s stand together and go on the offensive to create a social democratic vision for higher education and other universal public goods now under assault by Trump and his right-wing allies.
There is no question that the contemporary system of higher education in the United States was facing several crises (commodification of education, access and affordability, faculty precarity, violations of academic freedom, the “rationality crisis”, administrative bloat, etc.—what we generally refer to as the neoliberalization and corporatization of education) before the Trump administration began its assault on colleges and universities in 2025. Trump’s Executive Orders (EOs) related to education have magnified these crises. At the very least, he has forced those of us working in higher education to seriously reflect on what needs fixing. I point to these EOs as an illustration of intent to destroy colleges and universities as public goods by his administration, supporters, and surrogates, including Chris Rufo and Marc Rowan, two of the most notable agents who are not shy about using the authoritarian playbook. They are deliberately pushing the limits of legal and constitutional mores and precedents to achieve their goals. This should not be a controversial interpretation of intent, considering how transparent the expression of the authoritarian turn has been and continues to be when it comes to higher education and, well, everything else.
Their goal, and the goal of at least some elements of the capitalist class, is to dismantle the administrative state as part of the long-running backlash against FDRs New Deal programs that were rooted in the progressive ethos that government should directly serve the needs of the people. The construction of an enemy is crucial in executing the backlash. Today, the targets are, though not exclusively, teachers and what they do in the classroom, college and university professors, immigrants, transgender people, and the working class writ-large. Collectively, it’s time for faculty to show their power, moving beyond the lines of defense they have already established, creating networks of solidarity across industrial sectors, all while conducting political education about how the system works and who benefits under capitalism. It’s time we start to engage in discussing different tactics and overall strategies that include, but are not limited to, building the capacity for strike actions in collaboration with unions nationwide.
The good news, and perhaps to this end, is that Trump’s attacks have galvanized organized opposition from within higher education institutions. A bevy of coalitions led by faculty have taken the lead in pushing back against not only the Trump administration’s Education Department, but also against internal, administrative pressure to comply. The City University of New York (CUNY), the largest urban university system in the United States, led by faculty, has evolved to become one of the leaders in the national call for mutual academic defense compacts across the US. Galvanized by recent attacks on academic freedom and the weaponization of antisemitism by political and administrative actors, the CUNY Alliance to Defend Higher Education is one of the many initiatives that have popped up across the country.
These coalitions have developed under the strain of what feels like daily attacks against the mission of higher education and all its community members, particularly the most vulnerable. This opposition is grounded in the idea that faculty governance should dictate how colleges and universities operate as institutions of higher education focused on the pursuit of truth in the interest of the public good.
Mobilizing the working class means promoting a long-term, positive vision for public higher education.
At the core of this idea is the material reality that faculty, or faculty labor power, as Clyde W. Barrow has explained, is the sole "producer of value": without faculty, there are no students, no knowledge being produced and taught, therefore no colleges and universities. Historically, administrators—from Board of Trustees, Presidents, Vice Presidents, Provosts, and Deans, what I call the Administrative Elite—are called upon to play a supportive role in the governance of colleges and universities. The employment relation between administrators and faculty is fundamentally a managerial one, where administrative dictates carry the implicit and at times explicit weight of exerting discipline against the perceived violators of college rules, regardless of governance structures and safeguards. To be sure, there are more guardrails against administrative overreach if faculty and staff are protected by a contractual bargaining agreement (CBA) backed by a strong union presence in the workplace. But as we have seen at CUNY and elsewhere, even a CBA cannot stop administrators from acting with McCarthyite impunity.
Colleges and universities, whether public or private, are creatures of the state. Either through regulatory means executed by the state or federal governments or both, through accreditation, or through fiscal dependency, institutions of higher education are subject to the political-economic imperatives of elected politicians and wealthy donors. In turn, they communicate their interests through formal and informal channels directly to boards of trustees, chancelleries, and college and university presidents with the goal of influencing how faculty do our jobs, placing limits on the range of what they deem to be acceptable actions and behavior. To be sure, given the diverse nature of higher education institutions across the country, the Administrative Elite will impose limits to the extent that they are called upon to do so by their respective institutional decision-making hierarchy. While there are well-meaning administrators in positions of power, some who intentionally rise through the ranks of faculty, they are nevertheless subject to the demands placed on them within this hierarchy, oftentimes placing them at odds with competing interests between the state government, politically motivated dictates, and students and faculty, particularly during moments of crisis. We cannot assume that this Administrative Elite will side with faculty and student interests if threats against their institutions are framed as existential. And we cannot convince them to do the “right thing” if their overall material interests are aligned with the dominant political and managerial hierarchy that rules over them.
This brings us to the question of faculty governance. The modern system of faculty self-governance, which dates back to the rise of the modern university in the early 20th century, rests on the assumption that faculty occupy a distinct and “professional” status in American society as intellectuals. The rise of the modern university also coincides with the rise of “corporate liberalism”, within the capitalist state, and the emergence of the corporate university. Historically, the corporate university evolved to adopt the logic and methods of the market as guiding principles which, as Larry G. Gerber has explained, deprofessionalizes and undermines faculty governance.
Since the 1970s, one manifestation of the “market model” that Gerber identifies is the increasing number of precarious employment in the form of “contingent” faculty and the simultaneous decrease in the number of tenure-track faculty lines at colleges and universities. Contingency in employment is one step towards deprofessionalization. The advantages of having a deprofessionalized workforce, as far as managers are concerned, is that workers become vulnerable and more easily subject to employer disciplinary actions. In this case, it also leads to weak faculty governance structures because faculty are already bursting under the full weight of teaching loads, pressure to research and publish, and serve in various committees, leaving no time to participate extensively in governance structures. Some faculty may continue to adjust to the constant juggling of work demands placed on them, while others tune out, keep their heads down, and carry on.
From a broader, social, political, and economic perspective, some faculty may carry on their work under the belief that they are professionals, distinct and separate from other workers who contribute their labor to maintain our workplaces in order. Here, for example, I am thinking of janitorial staff, clerical workers, and safety and security staff. One of the most successful accomplishments of the neoliberalization of the university system is getting us to believe that we are all individuals, working for our own benefit, separate and apart from other workers in a system that commodifies our experience. In other words, the logic of the market obliterates the social relations necessary to produce knowledge. It also produces the belief that as professionals, faculty, in whatever rank, are part of the Professional Managerial Class (PMC), defined by Barbara and John Ehrenreich in 1977 as “salaried mental workers who do not own the means of production and whose major function in the social division of labor may be described broadly as the reproduction of capitalist culture and capitalist class relations.”
Christopher Newfield recently captured the consequences of this neoliberalization process. Referring to the current political climate, he says:
Academics are not well prepared for this moment. This was unfortunately foretold by the Ehrenreich prophecy: the PMC was too subservient to capital and its representatives to build an independent power base, in the teeth of disapproval. Not a class but a contradictory class position, academics have a diverse membership that lacked a class interest in aligning with the noncollege working class, in spite of such an interest held by many individual members. They also failed to build organizational power for themselves; instead, they bonded with senior managers and their superiors through academic senates and status-based private bargains, in a stable PMC-capital overlap of interests.
Newfield suggest that,
[W]e must work step by step, in an organizational way, toward direct control of universities. If we do, we’ll be of real use to our knowledge allies—government scientists,public health advocates, local news journalists, community researchers, theater company directors, et al.—in building the self-governing knowledge systems we need to block authoritarian implosion and get a future we want.
As uncomfortable as it may make some individuals who identify and occupy the class position of the PMC, one conclusion that I suggest we draw from Newfield’s observation and analysis is that we must engage in anticapitalist politics within the university and, by extension, at the state level. There’s a reason why Trump deemed this word to be a threat to national security, conflating it with the word anti-fascist.
As the Trump administration continues to exert pressure using the full weight of the federal government, the Justice Department, and compliant Administrative Elites, we must move forward with a clear agenda for improving the system of higher education we have inherited. And I would argue that we must do so in collaboration with labor across different sectors and with the full acknowledgement that education in general and higher education in particular are public goods worth preserving and expanding. We must create the conditions so that the cost of attacking our communities is so high that they’ll at least think twice before doing so. It’s time for New York City labor unions, for example, to exercise their power and work strategically to overcome the legal and ideological limitations that have held them back for decades. For nearly 60 years, as New York State employees, we are prohibited from striking. It’s time we challenge the Taylor Law, which has been hindering our ability to mobilize New York’s working class, and reflect on any lessons to be learned from the 2005 TWU strike.
Mobilizing the working class means promoting a long-term, positive vision for public higher education. At CUNY, that positive vision should include the democratization of the governance structures and decision-making processes, allowing for community, faculty, and student representation and voting power within the Board of Trustees (BoT). As the institution’s policy-making body, CUNY’s BoT is made up of 17 members, with the vast majority being political appointees (ten appointed by the Governor and five by the Mayor), and only two representing the direct interests of faculty and students (the Chairperson of the University Faculty Senate and the Chairperson of the University Student Senate). Maybe it is time to reflect on and rethink what faculty governance means, in practice, under the existing neoliberal regime where administrators have so much power over university governance.
As part of a democratic and representative discussion, a key question to be addressed is what would a decommodified version of education look like? How can we decouple a college credential from the process of teaching and learning that can inspire students to view a diploma as more than a ticket into the labor market? A crucial component of this positive vision would also include providing full, government-funded free tuition for students and the infrastructure necessary to support their education. The Professional Staff Congress (PSC), the union representing faculty and staff at CUNY, has already taken steps towards achieving this vision.
In the short term, we are bracing ourselves for the Trump show of force to come down on the city, as he has promised, if Zoran Mamdani is elected as our new Mayor in New York City. We need a strong coalition of groups to not only resist but to put forward a positive vision of the city we want. One of these coalitions is already taking shape aiming to “protect and prepare” for the onslaught that is sure to come.
Statements and resolutions are important, at the very least, to set the record straight about which side we are on and where we stand in a time of crisis. But they cannot replace organized, strategic actions that will have a positive impact on our workplaces and our communities. Moments of struggle can bring out the best, and worst, in people. We saw that during the Covid-19 pandemic. Let us not wait but be proactive in this fight. Let’s stand together and go on the offensive to create a social democratic vision for higher education that affirms the value of knowledge and truth-seeking for the benefit of the public good.The new robber barons are having their names etched into the pediments of the giant new ostentatious ballroom President Donald Trump is adding to the White House.
In the first Gilded Age, which ran from the 1890s through the 1920s, captains of American industry were dubbed “robber barons” for using their baronial wealth to bribe lawmakers, monopolize industry, and rob average Americans of the productivity of their labors.
Now, in a second Gilded Age, a new generation of robber barons is using their wealth to do the same—and to entrench their power.
The first Gilded Age was an era of conspicuous consumption. The second is an era of conspicuous influence.
The new robber barons are having their names etched into the pediments of the giant new ostentatious ballroom President Donald Trump is adding to the White House.
Trump is now literally taking a wrecking ball to the White House—sending parts of the East Wing’s roof, the building’s exterior, and portions of its interior crumbling to the ground.
They already own—and influence—much of the news Americans receive. And they are eager to promote their views.
Marc Benioff, the billionaire founder and CEO of Salesforce, told the New York Times that Trump should send the National Guard to San Francisco. (After his remarks drew condemnation from many of the city’s civic leaders, he apologized. He seems about to get his wish nonetheless.)
Marc Rowan, the billionaire chief executive of Apollo Global Management, is the force behind Trump’s recent “compact” calling on universities to limit international students, protect conservative speech, require standardized testing for admissions, and adopt policies recognizing “that academic freedom is not absolute,” among other conditions. The Trump regime dangled “substantial and meaningful federal grants” for universities that agree.
(It didn’t work. Seven of the nine universities approached rejected the deal.)
Billionaire Stephen A. Schwarzman, the chief executive of Blackstone, is also shaping the Trump regime’s campaign to upend American higher education. Schwarzman has emerged as a key intermediary between Trump and Harvard University.
Other of America’s new robber barons are rapidly consolidating their control over what Americans read, hear, and learn about what’s occurring in our country and the world. They include Jeff Bezos; Larry Ellison and his son, David; Mark Andreessen; Rupert Murdoch; Charles Koch; Tim Cook; Mark Zuckerberg; and, of course, Elon Musk.
Perhaps the new robber baron’s most lasting impression on the US government will be the lavish White House ballroom Trump is constructing—a 90,000-square-foot, gold-leafed, glass-walled banquet room that will literally overshadow the so-called People’s House.
It will not be an assembly hall, dance hall, music hall, dining hall, village hall, or town hall. It will be a giant banquet and ballroom designed to accommodate 650 wealthy VIPs.
Trump claims that the East Room, the largest room in the White House, is too small. Its capacity is 200 people. He doesn’t like the idea of hosting kings, queens, and prime ministers in pavilions on the South Lawn.
Trump’s real intention is to have the White House resemble Versailles.
Potential billionaire donors have already received pledge agreements for “The Donald J. Trump Ballroom at the White House.” In return for donations, contributors are eligible for “recognition associated with the White House Ballroom.”
Their names will be etched in the ballroom’s brick or stone edifice.
Trump last week hosted a dinner at the White House for the project’s donors, which included representatives from Microsoft, Google, Palantir, and other companies, as well as Schwarzman, Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss, and other billionaires.
Meredith O’Rourke, a top political fundraiser for Trump, is leading the effort, paired with the Trust for the National Mall, an organization that supports the National Park Service.
The trust’s nonprofit status means donations come with a federal tax write-off.
Construction began Monday. Trump is now literally taking a wrecking ball to the White House—sending parts of the East Wing’s roof, the building’s exterior, and portions of its interior crumbling to the ground.
It seems fitting that in this second Gilded Age—an age of conspicuous influence and affluent access—the People’s House will be replaced by the Billionaire’s House.
Universities need to recognize that they are being targeted because of what they represent, not because of what they've failed to do, and resist accordingly.
I grew up watching my mother teach histories she was forbidden to teach, in a language that was illegal to speak. I know what authoritarianism looks like. And I'm watching American universities respond to this moment with the same dangerous pattern I witnessed then: accepting the narrative of their accusers, capitulating to illegal demands, destroying themselves from within.
At a time when blue cities become military zones, when citizens are arrested and abused on camera, when journalists are forced to transform from truth tellers to White House publicists, when the president accepts planes as gifts from foreign governments and then offers them military bases on US soil, it is not a moment for universities to ask, "What did we do wrong?" This is a moment to recognize: We are living through an authoritarian takeover, and universities are being targeted because of what they represent, not because of what they've failed to do.
Across the country, university leaders are grappling with attacks on their institutions by asking: "How did we get here?" But without proper historical analysis, these questions lead directly into a trap set deliberately by those who seek to dismantle higher education as we know it.
The narrative is seductive: Universities became too focused on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). They pushed "woke ideology." They marginalized conservative voices. They failed to serve their students properly. And now, this narrative suggests, they're reaping what they've sown.
When universities face these attacks, they have a choice: Resist in solidarity with the broader democratic struggle, or accept the framing of their accusers and try to appease them.
This is all a lie. More precisely, it's what political theorist Isaac Kamola calls a decade-long psychological operation, a well-funded, well-organized campaign of disinformation designed to make Americans believe that what's happening in universities is not what's actually happening.
The reality? American higher education has more women enrolled than ever before. More people of color than ever before. An educated populace is a civically engaged populace, a populace capable of critical thinking and democratic participation. Universities haven't failed. Universities have been succeeding. And that success threatens the wealth and power of those orchestrating these attacks.
We’ve seen this script before. Universities are always the first targets of authoritarian regimes. Look at Hungary, where Viktor Orbán seized control of higher education through a national system, banned gender studies programs, and forced the Open University to leave the country. Look at Turkey. After 2016, more than 6,000 academics were expelled in Turkey, hundreds prosecuted, and entire universities were closed. Many dismissed scholars were banned from public sector employment and from seeking academic work abroad due to travel bans, creating widespread precarity and self-censorship among remaining faculty. The pattern is unmistakable and deliberate.
When universities face these attacks, they have a choice: Resist in solidarity with the broader democratic struggle, or accept the framing of their accusers and try to appease them. History shows us that appeasement doesn't work. It only accelerates the destruction.
Look at Brown and Columbia. In both cases, Brown and Columbia accepted Trump administration demands largely to avoid funding cuts, yet both remain under sustained attack from the administration. Rather than fighting to preserve institutional independence and democratic principles in higher education they have accelerated the authoritarian takeover by capitulating.
We are watching universities and their leaders across America choose the second path. They're eliminating DEI programs, not because they believe these programs are wrong, but because they're afraid of losing funding. They're censoring faculty, not because academic freedom suddenly matters less, but because trustees are buckling under financial threats. They're accepting the premise that they somehow deserve what's happening to them.
They are playing into the tiny hands of authoritarians.
If we take a historical view, we can see more clearly what's actually driving these attacks: race. The legislative assault on curriculum, the attacks on critical race theory, the dismantling of DEI programs, all of this escalated in inverse proportion to the access that Black and brown people were gaining to higher education.
The bookeyman of DEI is a strategic tool for turning civil rights laws on their heads, for weaponizing the very protections meant to ensure equity. When White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller tells law enforcement they're "unleashed," when apartments on Chicago's South Side are raided and destroyed in the middle of the night and families, including citizens, are separated and detained for hours, when the National Guard is deployed to terrorize Democratic cities with large populations of Black and brown people, we're watching the same white supremacist project that universities are being punished for challenging.
Powerful interests have recognized how threatening an educated, diverse, critically thinking populace is to their accumulation of wealth and power.
Chris Rufo has been explicit about his counterrevolutionary agenda. He accuses universities of ideological capture and promotes a fiction: that radical leftists completed a "long march through the institutions" from the 1960s to today, turning universities into engines of woke ideology. His strategy has been devastatingly effective, tying federal funding to demands that colleges eliminate "race-based" programs and DEI initiatives, end political activism on campus, and enforce what he falsely calls "ideological neutrality." The bitter irony, of course, is that this neutrality means alignment with conservative values. Authoritarian regimes always claim neutrality while enforcing ideology.
The actual transformative change that generations of civil rights leaders have fought to achieve in higher education has been painfully, frustratingly slow. As Dr. King reminded us, the arc of the moral universe is long. Diversity, equity, and inclusion work had just begun when the backlash hit. As Isaac Kamola reminds us, we haven't gone too far, we've barely started. And that's precisely why the backlash is so fierce. Progress, however incremental, is intolerable to those who benefit from the status quo.
Rapid response to individual attacks, while sometimes necessary, keeps universities perpetually defensive and reactive. Each response accepts the terms of the debate as set by those seeking to destroy higher education. Today, it's a demand to eliminate a DEI office. Tomorrow it's a threat to revoke accreditation. Next week, it's federal agents on campus or trustees forcing out presidents who won't comply. The exhausting onslaught of breaking news pushes institutions into pure survival mode, where they can only see the immediate threat in front of them. Meanwhile, the bigger picture, the systematic dismantling of democratic institutions, disappears from view.
This is how authoritarianism works. It overwhelms. It exhausts. It forces you to fight a hundred small battles so you cannot see the war.
And when universities respond by looking inward, by searching for their own failures, by implementing "reforms" that mirror the demands of their attackers—cutting DEI programs, restricting faculty speech, purging curricula of "controversial" content—they believe they're defending themselves. They're not. They're participating in their own destruction. Worse, they're legitimizing the authoritarian narrative: that universities deserved what's happening to them, that the attacks are a reasonable response to institutional failure rather than a calculated assault on democratic education itself.
This is precisely what authoritarians count on: that institutions will police themselves, that fear will accomplish what force alone cannot.
First, universities must stop accepting the false premise that they've failed. Higher education remains one of the most important engines of democratic participation, social mobility, and civic engagement in American society. The Truman Commission understood this in 1947: Higher education's core mission includes preparing citizens who can respond to social needs with intelligence and creativity.
That mission hasn't changed. What's changed is that powerful interests have recognized how threatening an educated, diverse, critically thinking populace is to their accumulation of wealth and power.
The question isn't "What did we do wrong?" The question is: "Will we defend democracy, or will we aid its destruction?"
Second, universities must understand themselves not as isolated institutions defending their own interests, but as part of a broader democratic movement under siege. The attacks on higher education are interconnected with attacks on blue cities, on journalism, on voting rights, on the rule of law itself. Universities cannot win this fight alone, and they cannot win it by trying to appease authoritarians.
Third, universities must reclaim the narrative. Higher education is not a commodity that consumers buy and sell. Universities are not corporations. They are communities, students, faculty, staff, administrators, and the broader public, engaged in the vital work of knowledge production, teaching, and the preparation of democratic citizens. That means the university belongs to all of us, and all of us have a stake in its defense.
Finally, universities, that is all those who create the university community, must act with courage. We’ve seen examples of this courage—boards (like that of MIT’s) standing behind presidents who refuse to capitulate, faculty senates (like that of the University of Texas at Austin) adopting new academic freedom principles, and institutions using the rule of law to protect their faculty and students. Courage, in this moment, is the super multiplier. It gives others permission to resist.
Universities stand at a crossroads. They can continue to react defensively to each attack, to implement “reforms” demanded by those who seek their destruction, to accept the narrative that they've somehow failed and deserve what's happening. Or they can recognize this moment for what it is: an authoritarian assault on one of democracy's essential institutions.
I know from experience that once authoritarianism takes hold, it moves swiftly. The window for resistance narrows quickly. My mother made her choice, to keep teaching the truths she was forbidden to teach. Now universities must make theirs.
The question isn't "What did we do wrong?" The question is: "Will we defend democracy, or will we aid its destruction?"
The answer to that question will determine not only the future of higher education, but the future of American democracy itself.
"Workers, students, campus community members across this great country are coming together to fight for a higher education system that actually works for all—one that is affordable, strengthens freedom and democracy, and stands up to its public mission."
Campus activist groups are banding together to fight against President Donald Trump's proposed "compact" with universities in which they would receive priority access to federal funding in exchange for pledging support for aspects of the president's political agenda.
The Sunrise Movement on Wednesday said that students and workers at the universities who have been invited by the Trump administration to sign the compact have "already gathered thousands of petition signatures" urging school administrators to reject it, and they are "planning coordinated campus protests in the coming weeks" to keep the pressure on their schools to resist any effort to infringe upon academic freedom.
The proposed deal with the Trump administration requires that universities abolish institutions on campus that "purposefully punish, belittle, and even spark violence against conservative ideas." Additionally, it would completely overhaul admissions processes so that schools are not allowed to consider factors "such as sex, ethnicity, race, nationality, political views, sexual orientation, gender identity, [or] religious associations."
Critics have said that agreeing to these terms would essentially end schools' academic freedom, and the Sunrise Movement compiled quotes from both students and professors explaining their opposition to the Trump administration's proposed deal.
Kelsey Levine, a student at the University of Virginia, said the school's signature on the agreement would be tantamount to "selling out its most vulnerable populations of students: international students, transgender students, and students of color," as well as "compromising its foundational principles of independence, truth-seeking, and democracy."
Todd Wolfson, president of the American Association of University Professors, described the Trump administration's proposal as a "corrupt bribery attempt" that "would usher in a new draconian era of thought policing in American higher education, cripple our technological innovation capacity, and assault our very democracy."
Evan Bowman, vice chair of Higher Ed Labor United, said that the battle against the Trump administration's efforts to infringe upon academic freedom were being waged with an all-hands-on-deck effort.
"Workers, students, campus community members across this great country are coming together to fight for a higher education system that actually works for all," he said. "One that is affordable, strengthens freedom and democracy, and stands up to its public mission."
Jan-Werner Müller, a professor of politics at Princeton University, wrote in The Guardian on Tuesday that all universities must reject Trump's proposal on the grounds that "it is a thinly veiled attack on academic freedom; it is a test case for whether Trumpists can get away with demanding loyalty oaths; it exceeds the president’s powers to begin with; and it is bound to achieve the opposite of its stated goal of 'academic excellence in higher education.'"
Müller also linked the agreement to what he described as "Trump's emerging mafia state," in which "there is no guarantee that those bending the knee will not be bullied again."
The Chronicle of Higher Education reported on Monday that only one institution, the University of Texas at Austin, has so far signaled support for the compact, while others have started to signal their opposition.
Dartmouth president Sian Beilock, for instance, said late last week that she was "deeply committed to Dartmouth’s academic mission and values and will always defend our fierce independence," and vowed that "we will never compromise our academic freedom and our ability to govern ourselves."
National legal organization Democracy Forward on Wednesday announced that it was launching an investigation into the Trump administration's efforts to strong-arm universities into signing the compact, which it described as an effort to "stifle free thought" on college campuses.
To that end, the organization is seeking access to all public records related to the compact, including "all records and communications between U.S. Department of Education officials... and any representatives" of the nine universities that were invited by the administration to sign.
Skye Perryman, president and CEO of Democracy Forward, said "every American should be concerned about these threats to freedom" from the Trump administration, adding that the organization would "get to the bottom of what is happening to protect people and our democracy."
This compact goes against every democratic principle our country and our schools should uphold, and we reject the Trump administration’s attempt to cajole universities into compliance through explicit bribery.
We are students at the nine universities most recently targeted by President Donald Trump. We've spent years demanding that our universities improve conditions for students, lower tuition, and create spaces for the free exchange of ideas. No one told us the way to influence our universities was simply to bribe them with millions of dollars of federal funding.
On October 1, the Trump administration sent our schools a 10-point memo titled "Compact for excellence in higher education." If adopted, the compact would limit international student enrollment, force universities to share student information with the federal government, enforce the adoption of a specific definition of gender and threaten affinity spaces, and take action against actors that “punish, belittle, and even spark violence against conservative ideas.” In return, our universities are promised increased access to federal funding opportunities. If they don't comply? Well, any school can “elect to forgo federal benefits.”
This compact goes against every democratic principle our country and our schools should uphold, and we reject the Trump administration’s attempt to cajole universities into compliance through explicit bribery. It should go without saying that extorting universities to comply with ideological demands and quell freedom of speech is antidemocratic, but here we are.
In a public statement, White House Official May Mailman claimed that our nine universities—Brown, the University of Texas at Austin, the University of Arizona, Dartmouth, MIT, the University of Pennsylvania, Vanderbilt, the University of Virginia, and the University of Southern California—were chosen because they are "good actors." In other words, the Trump administration expects our universities to fold. And they expect to use our compliance as a green light to force universities across the country into similar agreements.
If any one of our universities agrees to this compact, it risks creating a chain reaction for the higher education system at-large to side with tyrants over students.
Here's the thing—we cannot deny that Trump's compact pointed out some very real issues in our higher education system. It is true that "too many young adults have become saddled with life-altering debt." It is true that "truth-seeking is a core function of institutions of higher education." For decades, young people have borne the brunt of our country's refusal to invest in education. As federal funding has fallen, administrator salaries have ballooned while faculty, staff, and graduate worker wages have stagnated and tuition prices have skyrocketed. Today, many of our schools are run more like hedge funds than like centers of learning. That's why we have continuously demanded that our government and our universities make higher education more accessible, and allow us to freely share our viewpoints on campus.
Trump's memo, however, does not actually sincerely seek to confront these issues. It is a thinly-veiled attempt to undermine fundamental principles of university independence and attack vulnerable students, and it is a clear instance of authoritarian overreach. Trump claims to value "truth-seeking," yet limits what "truth" can be sought. The compact places surveillance on what ideas can and cannot be present in the campus setting, requiring screening of international students for "anti-American" values. Under the guise of promoting campus discourse, it gives institutions the tools to gut departments that the Trump administration could frame as "belittling" conservative ideas. What counts as an "anti-American" value or "belittling" conservative ideas is malleable to the Trump administration's vantage point. The compact also effectively bans peaceful campus protest, a crucial part of civil discourse on our campuses.
To define a "free marketplace of ideas" by its adherence to a specific set of ideas and exclusion of a specific set of individuals is not creating a free marketplace at all: It's breeding authoritarianism.
This compact also asks our universities to commit to repression of LGBTQ+ students, including "biological" definitions of sex and gender, that would strip our queer students of protections and resources crucial to their right to a free and safe education. For LGBTQ+ students, this compact is not just a "political" attack; it is an immediate threat to our education and survival.
And this comes after a speech-chilling effect has already taken over our campuses. Students who dared to speak out in support of Palestine, especially, have faced extreme repression on campus, including police sweeps, expulsions, and attempted deportations. Over the summer, we watched as Brown University and the University of Pennsylvania signed agreements that sold students' personal information to the Department of Justice, excluded trans students from university life, and stripped them of their healthcare. We watched as the University of Virginia acquiesced to the Department of Justice's demands to dissolve diversity, equity, and inclusion offices against the wishes of the university community and forced President Jim Ryan to step down. We've watched our peers, Mahmoud Khalil and Rumeysa Öztürk, taken for daring to speak against Israel's genocide, and we continue to watch as Immigraton and Customs Enforcement takes our community members on and near our campuses.
The founding principles of our universities—quality education free from censorship, workforce development, and shared governance of university structures—have been under attack for decades. The solution is not to take a bribe from a wannabe-dictator who wants to trojan-horse exclusionary policies under the guise of protecting American students. The solution is to listen to the students, faculty, and staff who actually make our schools run.
This memo was sent out during a government shutdown. While key government programs are stopped and unknown numbers of federal employees are furloughed, the Trump administration is seeking ways to expand its power. If any one of our universities agrees to this compact, it risks creating a chain reaction for the higher education system at-large to side with tyrants over students. We demand that our universities do not fold, and do not sign.
Too many of the president’s alleged adversaries are keeping their head down and trying to stay out of the line of fire. That has to change, and change soon, or they—and we—will all hang separately.
The appalling spectacle of some of the nation’s most prestigious law firms, media companies, and universities surrendering to bully pulpiteer Donald Trump’s extortion brings to mind that quip Benjamin Franklin made at the signing of the Declaration of Independence: “We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.”
Trump’s revenge campaign is just one aspect of his all-out war on democracy—and it’s easy to get distracted by his latest daily outrage—so there’s no blame for not following it closely. The gist of it is, since taking office, Trump has relentlessly attacked his perceived enemies and has brought a significant number of them to heel.
Trump’s crusade should not come as a total surprise. After all, he told his supporters at a March 2023 rally: “For those who have been wronged and betrayed… I am your retribution.” What is shocking is the capitulation rate. One by one, Trump has been picking off his alleged adversaries. To be sure, some are fighting back, but too many are keeping their head down and trying to stay out of the line of fire. That has to change, and change soon, or they—and we—will all hang separately.

Nine prominent law firms, including Paul Weiss, Skadden Arps, and Latham & Watkins, have struck deals to avoid punitive executive orders Trump issued because they represented clients or took legal positions at odds with his administration. The orders would have revoked the firms’ security clearances, blocked their access to government buildings, and canceled their federal contracts. To get Trump to back down, they agreed to provide a total of $940 million in pro bono legal services to support Trump’s pet causes and eliminate diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) considerations in hiring and promotion.
At least four other major law firms, including Perkins Cole and WilmerHale, are resisting. They filed lawsuits arguing that Trump’s executive orders are unconstitutional retaliations that threaten the rule of law and violate First Amendment protections. Judges have issued temporary injunctions to block the executive orders.
Trump has not issued any executive orders against law firms since April, but the threat has had a chilling effect. “Some of the country’s largest law firms have declined to represent clients challenging the Trump administration…,” a recent ProPublica investigation found, “while others have sought to avoid any clients that Trump might perceive as his enemies.”

Both ABC News and Paramount, owner of CBS News, crumpled in the face of a meritless Trump lawsuit.
Trump’s case against Disney’s ABC News, which settled last December for $15 million for Trump’s presidential library, largely turned on semantics. Anchor George Stephanopoulos incorrectly stated on air that Trump was found civilly liable for raping writer E. Jean Carroll. In fact, he was found guilty of sexually assaulting (and defaming) Carroll. That said, the judge handling the case said the claim that Trump raped Carroll was “substantially true,” but the term “rape” is narrowly defined by New York state law. At any rate, to win the case, Trump would have had to clearly prove that Stephanopoulos’ comment was false and that he said it with “actual malice”—that he knew it was false or acted with reckless disregard of the truth. Trump would have lost.
Will news organizations now think twice before criticizing Trump? Most likely, yes.
Paramount’s July 2 settlement of $16 million for Trump’s library was tantamount to bribery. Trump sued Paramount for $10 billion last October, alleging that “60 Minutes” deceptively edited an interview with presidential candidate Kamala Harris to make her look good. No matter that editing interviews for time and clarity is what broadcast news organizations do.
Trump did not have a case, but Paramount had a $8.4 billion merger with Skydance, a Hollywood studio, pending before the Federal Communications Commission (FCC)—now chaired by Project 2025 coauthor Brendan Carr—and it didn’t want to antagonize Trump. On July 14, CBS “Late Show” host Stephen Colbert called Paramount’s settlement a “big fat bribe.” The network cancelled his show three days later. On July 24, the FCC approved the merger.
Critics characterized the two settlements as acts of cowardice that threaten press freedom by emboldening frivolous lawsuits. Will news organizations now think twice before criticizing Trump? Most likely, yes.

At least a handful of news organizations, including the Associated Press and NPR, have pushed back against Trump’s bullying, but the results were hardly a victory for the First Amendment.
The Associated Press (AP) sued the White House in February for blocking its reporters from Oval Office briefings and Air Force One press pools because the news service didn’t adopt Trump’s new name for the Gulf of Mexico. AP argued banning its reporters violates its First Amendment rights. The case is still tied up in court.
In late April, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) sued Trump for firing three of its five board members. In late May, NPR and PBS sued the Trump administration over the executive order to revoke federal funding for public broadcasting. Late last month, Trump signed a bill canceling $1.1 billion in public broadcast funding—which Congress had originally approved—in a “rescission” package, and on August 1, CPB announced it was shutting down.
More recently, Trump filed a $10 billion defamation lawsuit after the Wall Street Journal published a story on a sexually suggestive letter Trump sent to Jeffery Epstein for his 50th birthday. Denying that he had written the letter, Trump sued Rupert Murdoch; News Corp and its CEO, Robert Thomson; Dow Jones & Company; and the reporters who wrote the piece, calling the article “false, malicious, defamatory, FAKE NEWS” on Truth Social. The Journal stands by the story and is prepared to defend it in court.
“There’s nothing inherently wrong with a president bringing a libel suit,” the renowned constitutional lawyer Floyd Abrams told the AP. “But this claim [against the Wall Street Journal] certainly seems like nothing more or less than an effort to suppress speech that our president finds discomforting. That’s not why we have libel law. It’s why we have a First Amendment.”

Under the pretext of rooting out antisemitism and DEI programs on campus, Trump has been bludgeoning the most prominent American universities, threatening to cancel their federal research funding unless they change their policies.
On July 23, my alma mater Columbia University and the University of Pennsylvania were the first to capitulate. Columbia did not admit to any wrongdoing, but agreed to pay a $200 million fine; stop considering race in admissions and hiring; share with the federal government applicants’ standardized test scores, grade point averages, and race; and pay an additional $21 million to settle US Equal Employment Opportunity Commission investigations. In return, the school regains access to nearly $1.3 billion in annual federal funding that was placed on hold. Penn settled the same day but did not agree to pay anything. Among other things, it promised to align its athletic department’s policies with the Trump administration’s position banning transgender athletes.
Less than a week later, my other alma mater, Brown University, settled with the administration, agreeing to dismantle DEI programs and spend $50 million over 10 years on Rhode Island workforce development organizations. In return, the administration will reinstate $510 million in federal contracts and grants it threatened to block. Like Columbia, Brown also agreed to share details about its applicants with the federal government. Trump celebrated the agreement with a post on Truth Social proclaiming: “Woke is officially DEAD at Brown.”
In a March interview with the AP, former Trump White House lawyer Ty Cobb said giving in to a bully makes things worse by creating a snowball effect. “
Harvard University, which initially stood up for academic freedom and sued the administration, is reportedly moving toward a settlement requiring the university to pay $500 million to vocational or work force training programs instead of directly to the federal government or Trump’s presidential library. If finalized, the Trump administration would then restore billions of withheld federal dollars to the school for research and other programs.
The administration’s professed rationale for punishing universities because of antisemitism on campus doesn’t pass the smell test. It’s a ruse. It’s all about trying to stamp out perceived leftist ideology and snuff out speech it opposes, according to Trump’s education secretary, Linda McMahon.
In a July 24 interview with Fox Business, McMahon applauded the Columbia settlement as “a monumental victory for conservatives who wanted to do things on these elite campuses for a long time because we had such far left-leaning professors…” “We’re really hopeful,” she added, “this particular settlement agreement is going be a template for other universities to follow.”
Likewise, Vice President JD Vance has made it clear that, in his opinion, “professors are the enemy.” In November 2021, he delivered the keynote address at the National Conservatism Conference in Orlando. He spent 30 minutes railing about corrupt American universities and then closed by quoting Richard Nixon, who he called a “great prophet and statesman.”
“I think in this movement of national conservatism what we need more than inspiration is we need wisdom,” Vance said, “and there is a wisdom in what Richard Nixon said approximately 40 or 50 years ago. He said, and I quote: ‘The professors are the enemy.’” (During that same taped conversation, ironically with former professor Henry Kissinger, Nixon also said “the press is the enemy.”)

In a March interview with the AP, former Trump White House lawyer Ty Cobb said giving in to a bully makes things worse by creating a snowball effect. “The more of them that cave, the more extortion that that invites,” he said. “You’ll see other universities and other law firms and other ‘enemies’ of Trump assaulted and attacked into submission because of that.”
So, what is to be done?
New York Times columnist David Brooks addressed this question on the “PBS News Hour” during his weekly discussion with MSNBC’s Jonathan Capehart on July 25.
“Well, there are two possible responses,” he said. “One, the one that’s being chosen by most organizational leaders right now, is lay low. It’s so, well, maybe they won’t pick on me, or maybe we will make a concession and they won’t pick on me...”
“The other option, which I thought we were going to have, is a broad coalition, not only of all universities, but all law firms, businesses, nonprofits, foundations, anybody in any sector that could be part of the extortion attempt,” he continued. “And they would say, we will band together. There’s strength of numbers. If they come for one of us, they come for all of us, sort of a domestic NATO Article 5.”
I would take Franklin’s proposition a bit further: It is the first responsibility of every citizen to defy authority when that authority is illegitimate.
I made the exact same argument in my graduation speech at Brown in 1976. I wasn’t talking about how to buck an authoritarian government, I was talking about how to challenge a top-down, undemocratic workplace, but it’s analogous.
The nation’s bicentennial year wasn’t a great time for a recent grad to be looking for a job. Industrial output had rebounded from a slump and corporate profits were up, but the recovery was jobless, and states and municipalities—and colleges—were facing major deficits. Given the scarcity of jobs in academia and the difficulty of earning a living as a solo practitioner, I warned my classmates: “More often than not we will find ourselves in basically undemocratic, hierarchical institutions that are resistant to change. These institutions are characterized by authoritarian control from above, and those who are not in the upper reaches of the hierarchy are excluded from the decision-making process.”
How did Brown prepare us for that future? By providing a taste of it. I cited examples of how, during my time there, Brown acted like any other corporation to protect its interests at the expense of its students, faculty, and workers. And then, like David Brooks, I spelled out the two ways to respond to authoritarians.
The first, I explained that June morning, is the “individual survival” response. One person alone has little chance against an institution, so it makes sense to keep your head down and accept the status quo. (By the same token, one university, one law firm, or one news organization alone has little chance against an authoritarian government.)
The second, more effective way is with a collective, community response. The civil rights, women’s, anti-war, gay, and environmental movements my generation grew up with demonstrated firsthand that united action can lead to positive change. It’s clear that strength comes in numbers, be it in school, the workplace, the voting booth, or the streets.
As mentioned above, 200 years before I gave that speech, Benjamin Franklin said: “We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.” He also pointed out: “It is the first responsibility of every citizen to question authority.”
I would take Franklin’s proposition a bit further: It is the first responsibility of every citizen to defy authority when that authority is illegitimate.
Certainly, there are significant risks to sticking your neck out, but the risks of doing nothing are even greater. If I learned anything during my four years at Brown—and my 40 years in Washington, DC—it’s that democracy is not a spectator sport, and we are all being tested by the worst political crisis of our lifetime.
This article first appeared at the Money Trail blog and is reposted here at Common Dreams with permission.America will not be great again by closing its doors. It will flourish through welcoming the world’s best minds and taking pride in that.
Once, the United States truly was the land of opportunity, a place where young scholars arrived with suitcases full of hope, chasing the white picket fence version of the American Dream: studying in leafy college towns, dreaming of raising families under skies of limitless possibility.
But in early June 2025, US President Donald Trump delivered a shattering blow to that promise. With two sweeping proclamations, one banning all new visas for Harvard bound international students and the other reimposing travel restrictions on 19 countries, many of them Muslim majority, the Trump administration effectively expelled the very brilliance that makes America great.
These orders not only redirect visas, but they also overturn a national identity built on access, freedom, and merit. The administration justifies the actions under the guise of protecting against foreign influence, radicalism, and even campus antisemitism. But in truth, this is a punitive escalation, a direct response to elite universities like Harvard and Columbia resisting federal overreach in governance.
It sends a chilling message: that merit and dreams matter less than nationality or ideology. That the invitation once extended to the world’s best and brightest is now conditional. This is not a means to protect national infrastructure; it is a means to coerce institutional compliance with injustice.
We must fight for a country where politics do not gate opportunity and where the world’s brightest minds are not exiled but embraced.
International students earned nearly half of all STEM PhDs in the US in recent years and contributed nearly $44 billion to the US economy in 2023–24 alone. Breaking this pipeline will hollow out AI labs, biotech firms, and university research hubs.
Experts warn of a looming brain drain that will hand leadership in critical fields to other nations. This represents an ideological turn in presidential power, unchecked and unprecedented.
The Trump administration has already suspended Harvard’s Student and Exchange Visitor Program status; frozen billions in research funding; and implemented intrusive social media vetting for visa applicants.
Thousands of international students, many of whom simply expressed political views or joined peaceful protests, have seen their legal status revoked. Rather than investing in long-term domestic talent pipelines, the Trump administration is deliberately dismantling the systems that anchor America’s intellectual and innovation ecosystems.
The shrinking H‑1B visa access, reduced Optional Practical Training (OPT) retention, and ideological bans reflect a shortsighted, transactional worldview. And economic theory makes one thing clear: These restrictive moves will not fix the trade deficit—they will erode America’s competitive edge.
So what must be done?
Lawmakers and universities must ground policy in principle and pragmatism. They must codify protections that prohibit ideological or religious discrimination in visa decisions, ensuring no future administration can replicate Proclamation 10949. Visa policy should be amended to retain international STEM graduates, scaling OPT, and opening clear talent pipelines to citizenship.
Academic autonomy must be protected by rejecting funding threats tied to political compliance and affirming universities’ independence.
America’s strength has always come from being a place where merit and motivation, not birthplace or belief, determine opportunity. Expelling brilliance to score political points may win applause from a few, but globally, it signals surrender. America will not be great again by closing its doors. It will flourish through welcoming the world’s best minds and taking pride in that.
When brilliance, innovation, and the freedom to think, speak, and believe are driven out, we must be wary and active citizens; we cannot stay silent. We must fight for a country where politics do not gate opportunity and where the world’s brightest minds are not exiled but embraced. The future of America depends on it.