Category: Education

I, as discussed in the previous essay on this subject, believe students have a right to know the contents of a class in advance and that I am, as a professor, bound by the requirements of civility and compassion. Professors should inform students about potentially upsetting material in their classes. That said, I have some concerns about the imposition of guidance upon faculty. I am especially concerned when the state imposes ideological mandates forbidding and requiring content; this goes far beyond any imposition of trigger warning requirements.

One concern is that guidance might strike some as based on what was called “politically correct” ideology. Nowadays the right would call it “woke”, although that terms seems to have no clear meaning to them beyond denoting what they dislike.  While claims about the dominance of wokeness in academics are overblown, guides that appear based on ideology could be used to criticize the academy. That said, many states (such as my adopted state of Florida) mandate ideological content in GENED classes in state colleges.

An obvious counter is to contend that such guides are not politically correct impositions and to see them as such would be overblown suspicion. Another obvious counter is that such guidance is ideologically neutral and merely aims at protecting students from trauma. Even if trigger warnings were imposed by a university, this is radically different from imposed or forbidden ideological content.  A third counter is that the classroom is a suitable place for the imposition of ideology onto a captive audience; the fight in some states could be seen as being over who gets to impose their ideology.

While this might seem naïve, I think that the classroom should not serve as a place of ideological indoctrination, even when the ideology is my own. As a philosopher, my objective is to teach students how to think and not to preach to them. That said,  someone might say it is a contradiction to instill the principles of academic inquiry and learning while maintaining that ideologies should not be imposed in the classroom. After all, it might be argued that such things as honesty, respect, reason, and intellectual curiosity are ideological in nature.

A second concern is that while guiding faculty about trigger warnings is not imposing a restriction on academic freedom it does do at least two negative things. One is that it makes a value judgment about the material and implies that such material is not suitable for all students. As such, it seems to suggest that faculty should, perhaps, not include it. Another is that it is the first trickle in what might grow into a stream that erodes academic freedom. To lay out the progression, it is not unreasonable to see guidelines gradually evolve into suggestions which then, over a few years, become actual restrictions. As such, it seems sensible to stop the trickle well before the possible flood.

The obvious reply to this concern is that it the feared evolution might never take place—that is, there would be no expansion from guidance to “ism based” restrictions on what faculty are permitted to include. This is a reasonable point in that to simply assume that the slide must be inevitable would be to fall into a slippery slope fallacy. That said, there does seem to be a clear and reasonable path from guidance to actual restriction and thus this is still a matter of legitimate concern.

While my old concern was with an imposition from “the left” what has occurred under Republican rule is an ideological imposition from the right, including weaponizing federal funding to compel universities to comply with an ideology. While some claim the right is being hypocritical given their professed love of freedom, one can only properly understand the right once one understands how their concepts differ from the usual meanings of such terms. They do not oppose the imposition of ideologies, in principle. Rather, they oppose what they see as the imposition of what they perceive as an ideology other than their own.

A third point of concern is a practical one, namely that students might exploit trigger warnings s. As some examples, students might use trigger warnings as an excuse to skip classes, avoid work, or as a way to get a higher grade (based on an appeal to emotional trauma). It would be difficult to prove that a student was exploiting trigger warnings. There is also the concern since trigger sensitivity is linked to various –isms a professor who decided to question a student’s triggers could find themselves accused of various –isms (such as sexism or racism). Professors also generally prefer not to delve too deeply into the emotional issues of students—we are, after all, generally not trained therapists or counselors and professionalism requires a certain emotional distance.

One objection is that students would not exploit such trigger warnings. The obvious counter is that some certainly would. While not a trigger warning case, the 2025 University of Oklahoma essay controversy shows how a student could exploit accusations of -isms.  Another objection is that a system could be created to verify triggers to ensure that excuses are legitimate. While this would be possible, this would entail more bureaucracy and still would not do much to deter exploitation.

A third objection is that allowing some students to exploit the system is an acceptable price to pay to allow students to avoid triggering material. This might be true—although it does raise the question of whether avoiding triggering material is a legitimate reason to miss class, etc. 

It could also be countered that the avoidance of trigger material would not provide a legitimate excuse for missing class, avoiding certain coursework, etc. While this is possible, one might wonder about the value of trigger warnings—that is, there would seem to be something odd in acknowledging that something is potentially traumatic enough that people must be warned while also holding that students are not excused if they elect to avoid the potential trauma. It could be countered that the purpose of the warning is not to allow avoidance but to allow students the chance to be prepared for the incoming trauma. This could be good enough, although it does invite a debate about the value of trigger warnings.

In closing, I do agree that students should be informed about course content and that a professor should be polite and compassionate about letting students know about potentially traumatic material. However, I do have concerns about administrators imposing guidelines and mandating trigger warnings. I have far greater concerns about the ideological impositions of the state, which does illustrate how the “left” and “right” differ in the context of academics in the United States.

 

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A trigger warning, in the context of a university class, is a notification that class content might be upsetting or cause a PTSD response. While warning people about potentially disturbing content is an old one, the more recent intellectual foundations of trigger warnings lie in the realm of feminist thought. While the political right generally does not favor trigger warnings, the return of Trump and the triumph of the right has resulted in state-imposed restrictions on class content. My adopted state of Florida has imposed ideological requirements on the content of GENED classes. Some content is forbidden, some permitted and others (such as the Western canon) are mandated by the power of the state.

Years ago, some colleges considered requests from students for trigger warnings. Oberlin briefly posted a guide: professors should warn students about anything that would “disrupt a student’s learning” and “cause trauma.” The guide also urged professors to “be aware of racism, classism, sexism, heterosexism, cissexism, ableism, and other issues of privilege and oppression. Realize that all forms of violence are traumatic, and that your students have lives before and outside your classroom, experiences you may not expect or understand.”

As a concrete example, the guide used Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe as an example. While noting that it is a “triumph of literature that everyone in the world should read,” the guide warned that it could “trigger readers who have experienced racism, colonialism, religious persecution, violence, suicide and more.” At Rutgers, a student proposed that the Great Gatsby be labeled with a trigger warning because of “a variety of scenes that reference gory, abusive and misogynistic violence.” Interestingly, the right has professed it also wants to protect students from distressful content; however, their approach is to restrict or ban such content rather than warning students.

While I defend academic freedom, I agree that professors should inform students about content that might be traumatic, offensive or disturbing. I base my view on two principles. The first is that students have a right to know the class content so they can make an informed decision. That is why I make my course material readily available and routinely respond to emails from students inquiring about content. I am not worried that my course content will shock or traumatize students—I tend to use readings from thinkers such as Aristotle, Lao Tzu, Wollstonecraft, King, Plato, Locke, and Descartes. Hardly traumatic or shocking stuff. While I think students should leave their comfort zones, students should do this as a matter of conscious choice and not by being ambushed because they have no idea what the course contains. While I am suspicious of the motives of the state of Florida, I do agree with the new policy that syllabi must be publicly available long before the semester begins. For those familiar with the “free” state of Florida, it will come as no surprise that that our syllabi are reviewed for words the state forbids. I’m not a fan of that ideological policing, but I am glad potential students can see the syllabus well before they need to register. It might, in fact, be the only time they glance at the syllabus.

It might be countered that students should be forced out of their comfort zones and keeping them ignorant of class content is a legitimate way to do this. In reply, while I think education should force students out of their comfort zones, the correct way to do this is not by keeping the students ignorant of what they are getting into. After all, they do have the right to select their classes based on an informed choice. And the more information the better. Most of my classes are, for example, available on YouTube and students can see the content for themselves. I also make notes and PowerPoints readily available.

Obviously, informing students of content is distinct from explicit warnings about content. For example, letting the students know that class will include a showing of Deliverance would not inform those ignorant of the movie that it contains a rape scene and violence.

It can be contended that students should be proactive about checking content and the professor’s obligation ends with simply listing the content. To use an analogy, food labels should list ingredients, but it is up to the consumer to do some research, especially if they have allergies. As the Oberlin guide noted, professors might have no idea what might trigger someone—and warning about the unknown can be challenging. It would be like knowing every food allergy and including a warning for each, just in case.

The second principle is my commitment to the virtues of politeness, civility and compassion. While my classes do not contain material that could be sensibly regarded as traumatizing, if I were to include such material I would be obliged to warn the students. Just as when I have people over for dinner and do not know whether they are vegetarians (vegans always tell me they are vegans), I am careful to indicate which dishes contain meat. I also inquire about possible allergies. While I have no food allergies and I am an omnivore (with some moral exceptions, like veal), I recognize that this is not true of everyone and being a good and civil host requires considering others. As such, if I taught a class on morality and war and decided I needed to include graphic images or video, I would let students know ahead of time.

It might be countered that a professor is exempt from the normal rules of civility on the grounds that they have a right to push students out of their intellectual comfort zones (as a coach can push athletes). This does have some appeal—but I tend to think that courtesy is consistent with presenting an intellectual challenge to the students.

That said, I do acknowledge an obvious problem with the subjectivity of the emotional effect of content. What might have no effect on me might revive old traumas for others or offend them. However, one of the responsibilities of being a professional is being able to make judgments about proper content. We can err in this—obviously. However, if I am competent enough to teach a class, then I should be competent enough to distinguish what I should warn students about and what I should not. Admitting, of course, that I could get it wrong. While I am willing to seek guidance in this matter from others, I have moral concerns about imposed guidance and stronger concerns about state imposed ideological mandates.

 

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The cost of higher education has increased dramatically resulting in a corresponding increase in student debt. It is worth considering the cause and what could be done to reduce costs without reducing the quality of education.

One obvious approach is to consider whether university presidents are worth their expense. If a university president received $1 million in compensation, they would need to contribute the equivalent of 40+ adjuncts in terms of value created. It could, of course, be argued public university presidents bring in money from other rich people, provide prestige and engage in the politics needed to keep money flowing from the state. If so, a million-dollar president is worth 40+ adjuncts. If not, either the adjuncts should be paid more or the president paid less (or both) to ensure that money is not being wasted—and thus needlessly driving up the cost of education.

One reply to criticisms of high president pay is that for big public universities, even a million dollar president is a tiny part of the budget. As such, cutting the presidential salary would not yield significant savings. However, something is driving up the cost of education—and it is not faculty salary.

One major contribution to the increasing costs is the growth of the administrative sector of higher education.  A study found that the public universities that have the highest administrative pay spend half as much on scholarships as they do on administration. In such situations, students go into debt being taught by adjuncts while supporting the administration.

It is easy enough to demonize administrators. However, a university (like any organization) requires administration. Applications need to be processed, equipment needs to be purchased, programs need to be directed, state paperwork needs to be completed, the payroll must be handled and so on. There is a clear and legitimate need for administrators. However, this does not mean that all administrators are needed or that all high salaries are warranted. As such, one potential way to lower the cost of education is to reduce administrative positions and lower their salaries. That is, to take a standard approach used in the business model so often beloved by some administrators.

Since a public university is not a for-profit institution, the reason for the reduction should be to get the costs in line with the legitimate needs, rather than to make a profit. As such, the reductions could be more just than in the for-profit sector.

In terms of reducing the number of personnel, the focus should be on determining which positions are needed in terms of what they do in terms of advancing the core mission of the university (which should be education). In terms of reducing salary, the focus should be on determining the value generated by the person and the salary should correspond to that. Since administrators seem exceptionally skilled at judging what faculty (especially adjuncts) should be paid, presumably there is a comparable skill for judging what administrators should be paid.

Interestingly, much of the administrative work that directly relates to students, and education is already handled by faculty. For example, on top of my paid duties as a professor, I have always had administrative duties that are essential, yet not important enough to merit an increase in my pay proportional to an administrative salary. In this I am not unusual. Not surprisingly, faculty and students at universities often wonder what some administrators do, given that so many administrative tasks are done by faculty and staff. Presumably the extra administrative work done by faculty (often effectively for free) is already helping schools save money, although perhaps more could be offloaded to faculty for additional savings.

One obvious problem is that those who make decisions about administration positions and salaries are usually administrators. While some are noble and honest enough to report on the true value of their position, self-interest makes an objective assessment problematic. As such, it seems unlikely that an administration would want to act to reduce itself merely to reduce the cost of education. This is, of course, not impossible—and some administrators would not doubt be quite willing to fire or cut the salaries of other administrators.

Since many state governments have been willing to engage in close management of state universities, one option is for them to impose a thorough examination of administrative costs and implement solutions to the high cost of education. Unfortunately, there are sometimes strong political ties between top administrators and the state government. There is also the general worry that any cuts will be more political or ill-informed than rationally based.

Despite these challenges, the administrative costs need to be addressed and action must be taken—the alternative is ever increasing costs in return for less actual education.

It has been suggested that the interest rates of student loans be lowered and that more grants be awarded to students. These are both good ideas, those who graduate from college generally have better incomes and end up paying back what they received many times over in taxes and other contributions. However, providing students with more money from the taxpayers does not directly address the cost of education, it just shifts it.

Some states, such as my adopted state of Florida, have endeavored to keep costs lower by freezing tuition for as long as possible. While this seems reasonable, one obvious problem is that keeping tuition low without addressing the causes of increased costs does not solve the problem. What often happens is that the university must cut expenses and these tend to be in areas that serve the core mission of the university. For example, a university president’s high salary, guaranteed bonuses and perks are usually not cut—instead faculty are not hired, and class sizes are increased. While tuition does not increase, it does so at the cost of the quality of education. Unless, of course, the guaranteed bonuses of a university president are key to education quality.

As such, when trying to lower the cost of education, it should be done in a way that does not sacrifice the quality of education.

 

 

 

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Despite being seen as an academic liberal (with all associated sins), I have long had a mixed view of affirmative action in education and employment. As an individualist who believes in the value of merit, I hold that college admission and hiring should be based entirely on the merit of the individual.  That is, the best qualified person should be admitted or hired. This is based on the principle that admission and hiring should be based on earning the opportunity and this is fairly and justly based on whether an individual merits the admission or job.

To use a sports analogy, the person who gets the first-place award for a 5K race should be the person who runs the race the fastest. This person has merited the award by winning. To deny the best runner the award and give it to someone else in the name of diversity would be absurd and unfair—even if there is a lack of diversity among the winners.

However, I know about the foundational institutionalized inequality in America and that addressing it can, on utilitarian grounds, allow treating some people unfairly for the greater good. There is also the matter of the fairness of the competition, which allows me to believe both in merit and affirmative action.

In my 5K analogy, I assume the competition is fair and victory is a matter of ability. Everyone one runs the same course, and no one possesses an unfair advantage, such as having a head start or using a bike. In such a fair competition, the winner earns the victory. Unfortunately, the world beyond the 5K is rigged and unjust.

Discrimination, segregation and unjust inequality remain the order of the day in the United States. So, when people are competing for admission to schools and for jobs, some people have unfair advantages while others face unfair disadvantages. For example, African-Americans are more likely to attend underfunded and lower quality public schools and they face the specter of racism that still possessed the body of America. So, when people apply for college or for jobs they are not meeting on the starting line of a fair race which will grant victory to the best competitor. Rather, people are scattered about (some far behind the starting line, some far ahead) and some enjoy unfair advantages while others carry unfair burdens.

Many of these advantages and burdens involve employment and education. For example, a family that has a legacy at a school will have an advantage over a family whose members have never attended college. As such, affirmative action can shift things in the direction of fairness by, to use my 5K analogy, moving people to bring everyone closer to the starting line for a fairer competition.

To use a problematic analogy, 5K races usually divide awards by age and gender (and some have wheelchair divisions as well). As such, an old runner like me can win an age group award, even though the young fellows have the advantage of youth in competing for the overall awards. The analogy works in that the 5K, like affirmative action done properly, recognizes factors that influence the competition that can be justly addressed so that people can achieve success. The analogy, obviously enough, does start to break apart when pushed (as all analogies do). For example, affirmative action with awards will never make me as fast as the youth, whereas affirmative action in college admission can allow a disadvantaged student to gain an education to match those who have enjoyed advantages.   It also faces the obvious risk of suggesting that the competitors are inferior and cannot compete in the open competition. However, it does show that affirmative action can be squared with fair competition.

In closing, I do believe that a person of good conscience can be concerned about the ethics of affirmative action. After all, it does seem to run contrary to the principles of fairness and equality by seeming to grant an advantage to some people based on race, gender and such. I also hold that a person of good conscience can be for affirmative action—after all, it is supposed to aim at rectifying disadvantages and creating a society in which fair competition based on merit can properly take place. Unfortunately, the most vehement foes of affirmative action are white supremacists and misogynists who do not argue in good faith. Ironically, the anti-DEI folks in positions of power, such as certain Trump regime officials, seem to have been gifted with these positions despite their utter lack of merit. That is, they exemplify the claimed horrors of affirmative action gone wild.

 

 

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Since education is expensive, it is reasonable for a student to expect a return on their investment (ROI). Given that the taxpayers contribute to the education of students, it makes sense that they also receive a return on their investment.

A practical measure of the ROI for a student is often the salary of the job they get relative to the cost of their education. Roughly put, a student should be able to work out of their school debt and be able to live with the job that education is supposed to get them. In terms of the ROI for the taxpayer, the return is similar: students funded by the taxpayers are supposed to get jobs and repay the investment through the taxes they pay. The student becomes the taxpayer, thus enabling the next generation of students to also become taxpayers. One could also factor in the role of the worker as a consumer and the impact of the very few who become job creators.

Because the cost of education grew so high, some folks placed their hopes on the free market. The idea was that for-profit schools would provide a high-quality product (education that leads to a job) at a lower cost than the state and traditional private schools. As might be suspected, the ideal turned out very different from the real.

While state schools obviously receive state funds, the for-profit schools received massive federal support. Unfortunately, this money was ill-spent: 20% of the for-profit school students defaulted on student loans within three years of entering the repayment period. About half of all student loan defaulters went to such for-profit schools, although these schools made up only 13% of the student population. The estimate was that about half the loans funneled through students to the for-profit schools were lost to default, which is not a good investment for the taxpayer.

Students most often default on loans due to financial hardship. As might be imagined, not earning an adequate paycheck leads to hardship. While there are over 2,000 programs where the students had loan debt, but whose earnings put they below the poverty line, 90% of these programs were at for-profit schools. As such, these schools were a bad investment for both taxpayers and students. While public and traditional private schools did account for the other 10%, they have been a better investment for taxpayers and students. This is not to say that such schools do not need improvement—but it is to say that the for-profit model was not a solution and probably never will be. For all the obvious reasons you suspect.

There were some attempts, such as in 2011, to impose regulations against the predatory exploitation of students (and taxpayers) by institutions. Not surprisingly, these were countered by the well-paid lobbyists working at the behest of the for-profits. Under the Trump regime, the stated goal is to destroy the Department of Education, so little help for students can be expected from that department.

Interestingly, some states pushed hard for performance-based funding for public institutions. For example, my adopted state of Florida has seen the Republican dominated state legislature micro-managing of education and imposing their professed ideology. In any case, we have been operating under a performance-based model in which funding is linked to achieving goals set by the state. Naturally, for-profit schools do not fall under the same rules as public schools, which could give them an advantage.

Some might suspect the performance-based funding approach is cover for reducing funding even more. This approach also shifts funding towards schools that have more political influence—which is supported by looking at where the money goes.

It might be suspected that performance-based funding was designed to harm public schools and push students towards for-profit schools. These schools often enjoy political connections and would benefit from reduced public education opportunities. Of course, the profits of such schools come largely at the expense of students and taxpayers. They are well-subsidized by the state in a new twist on the old corporate welfare system.  Shockingly enough, there has been little conservative rage at this wasteful socialism and these academic welfare queens.

 

 

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I have seen the cost of a university education explode since I was a student, even adjusting for inflation. As a professor, I can assure you that faculty salaries have not increased proportionally nor are we to blame for the increase in the cost.

Professor salaries, especially at state school, are often compressed. For those of us who have been around a while, the compression can be extreme. For example, a full professor who was hired in the early 1990s might have a salary on par with a brand-new hire. This is one reason why star faculty move around in search of ever larger salaries. Universities also rely heavily on underpaid adjuncts. While the rates vary, an adjunct might make $24,000 over nine months for teaching eight classes. As adjuncts usually receive no benefits, they are cheap labor for higher education. As adjuncts often have advanced degrees, they are perhaps the worst paid of the best educated.

To be fair and balanced there are star faculty who command large salaries and perks. They are celebrities of academics who use their status and connections to slide from one well-paying job to an even better paying job. Such stars sometimes enjoy exemptions from the mundane duties of faculty, such as teaching. As with any profession, stars are relatively rare and are usually not a significant factor in the increased cost of education. As such, blaming the faculty for the higher cost is not, in general, a legitimate complaint.

But complaining about the cost of education is legitimate: costs have increased significantly while there are increasing doubts about the quality and value of education. The rise of AI is also raising significant doubts, although AI is likely to be yet another bubble. However, we should put the cost of education into perspective. Being a professor, I will focus on the educational aspects.

At a state school like my own Florida A&M University, a student will most often take a class from a person with a terminal degree, usually a doctorate. A standard class is three credit hours, which means that a student is supposed to be in class two and a half hours per week. In my college four classes per semester is common and we are required to hold two hours of office hours per class. We also have various research and administrative duties. For example, I am the unit facilitator for Philosophy & Religion and seem to have a lifetime sentence to be the chair of two university committees. Thanks to email, students can contact us around the clock—and most faculty, including myself, respond to emails outside of normal hours and on the weekends. I’m writing this on a Sunday and just completed an email exchange with a student.  We also typically do work for the classes, such as grading, preparing lessons and so on throughout the week and during vacations. Even the unpaid three months that 9-month faculty get in the summer.

While the exact hours will vary, a student at a school like FAMU will have access to a professional with an advanced degree for 2.5 hours in the classroom, have access to 8 hours of office hours, and typically have unlimited email access. Most faculty are also willing to engage with students in their off time—for example, I have stopped while grocery shopping to explain a paper to a student who also happened to be in Publix at that time. This is in return for the cost of tuition, only a small fraction of which goes to the professor.

Now, compare this to the cost per hour for other professionals. For example, a psychiatrist might charge between $125-$285 per hour. As another example, a plumber might charge $9-150 an hour. As a third example, a consultant might charge anywhere from $30 to thousands of dollars an hour. As a fourth example, an attorney might charge hundreds of dollars per hour or more.

 Imagine what it would cost to have a plumber, medical doctor, or attorney spend 2.5 hours a week with you for 16 weeks (divided by the other people, of course), be available an additional eight hours a week, do work for you outside of those hours, respond personally to your emails and so on.  If professors billed like plumbers, lawyers or medical doctors, the cost of school would be insanely high.

It might be replied that plumbers, lawyers and medical doctors perform services that are more valuable than professors. After all, a plumber can fix your pipes, a lawyer could get you a nice settlement and a medical doctor might re-attach your quadriceps tendon. A professor merely teaches and surely that has far less value. The obvious practical reply is that people with college degrees make, on average, more than those without—this would suggest that teaching does provide some value. There is also the fact that plumbers, medical doctors and lawyers need education to do what they do—thus showing that education does provide something of value (although plumbers typically do not go to college to become plumbers).

As such, while education is too expensive, the actual cost of paying professors is ridiculously cheap relative to what other comparable professionals cost. You might suspect that I implying the blame lies elsewhere, and you would be right.

 

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Negativity bias is the tendency to give more weight to the negative than the positive. For example, people tend to weigh wrongs done to them more heavily than the good deeds done for them. As another example, people tend to be more swayed by negative political advertisements than by positives ones. This bias can also have an impact on education.

Some years ago, one of my colleagues always asked his logic students if they planned to attend law school. When he noticed a dramatic decline in logic students planning on law school, curiosity led him to investigate. He found that logic had been switched from being a requirement for pre-law to just recommended. Back then, my colleague said it seemed irrational for students who planned on taking the LSAT to avoid the logic class, given that the LSAT was largely a logic test and that law school requires logical reasoning.  From his philosophical soap box, he said that students prefer to avoid the useful when it is not required and only grudgingly take what is required. We discussed how this relates to the negativity bias.  A student who did not take the logic class when it was required would be punished by being unable to graduate. When the class became optional, there remained only the positive benefits of taking the class. Since people weigh punishments more than rewards, this behavior made sense—but still seemed irrational. Especially since many of the students who skipped the logic class ended up paying for LSAT preparation classes to spackle over their lack of logic skills.

Over the years, I have seen a similar sort of thing in my own classes. My university had a policy that allowed us to lower a student’s grade if they missed too many classes. While attendance has always been required in my classes, I have never inflicted a punishment for missing class. Not surprisingly, when the students figure this out, attendance plummets. Before I started using Blackboard and Canvas for coursework, attendance would increase dramatically on test days. Now that all work can be done on Canvas (a relic of COVID), attendance remains consistently low. Oddly, students often say my classes are interesting and useful. But, since there is no direct and immediate punishment for not attending (just a delayed “punishment” in terms of lower grades and a lack of learning), many students are not motivated to attend class.

I do consider I might be a bad professor or that most students see philosophy courses as useless or boring. However, my evaluations are consistently good, former students have returned to say good things about me and my classes, and so on. That said, perhaps I am deluding myself and being humored. That said, it is easy enough to draw an analogy to exercise: exercise does not provide immediate rewards and there is no immediate punishment for not staying fit—just a loss of benefits. Most people elect to avoid exercise. This and similar things show that people often avoid that which is difficult now but yields lasting benefits latter.

I have, of course, often considered adopting the punishment model for my classes. However, I have resisted this for a variety of reasons. The first is my personality: I am inclined to offer benefits rather than punishments. This is an obvious flaw given the general psychology of people. The second is that I believe in free choice: like God, I think people should be free to make bad choices and not be coerced into doing what is right. It must be a free choice. Naturally, choosing poorly brings its own punishment—albeit later. The third is the hassle of dealing with attendance: the paperwork, having to handle excuses, hearing poorly crafted lies, and so on. The fourth is the that classes are generally better for the good students when people who do not want to be there elect to do something else. The fifth is my moral and religious concern for my students: if they are not punished for missing classes, there is no reason to lie to me about what they missed. Finally, COVID changed things and if I punished students for not attending, too many students would end up failing simply because of not attending enough.

I did consider adopting the punishment model for three reasons. One is that if students are compelled to attend, they might learn something and I do worry that by not compelling them, I am doing them a disservice. The second is that this model is a lesson for what the workplace will be like for most of the students—so habituating them to this (or, rather, keeping the habituation they should have acquired in K-12) could be valuable. After all, they will probably need to endure awful jobs until they retire or die. The third is that perhaps people must be compelled by punishment—this is, of course, the model put forth by thinkers like Aristotle and Hobbes. But I will almost certainly stick with my flawed approach until I retire.

Back in 2014 Sandra Y.L. Korn proposed dispensing with academic freedom in favor of academic justice. Korn begins the essay with example of Harvard psychology Professor Richard Hernstein’s 1971 article for Atlantic Monthly. Hernstein endorsed the view that intelligence is primarily hereditary and linked to race. Hernstein was criticized for this view but was also defended by appeals to academic freedom. Korn seems to agree that the attacks on Hernstein impinged on academic freedom. However, Korn proposed that academic justice is more important than academic freedom.

Korn uses the American Association of University Professors view of academic freedom: “Teachers are entitled to full freedom in research and in the publication of the results.” However, Korn regards the “liberal obsession” with this freedom as misplaced. 

Korn notes that there is not “full freedom” in research and publication. As Korn correctly notes, which proposals get funded and which papers get published is largely a matter of academic politics. Korn also notes, correctly, that no academic question is free from the realities of politics. From this, Korn draws a conditional conclusion: “If our university community opposes racism, sexism, and heterosexism, why should we put up with research that counters our goals simply in the name of ‘academic freedom’?”

One might suspect a false dilemma is lurking here: either there is full academic freedom or restricting it on political values is acceptable. There is not full academic freedom. Therefore, restricting it on political values is acceptable. This would be a false dilemma because there are many options between full academic freedom such restrictions. As such, one could accept that there is not full academic freedom while also rejecting that academic freedom should be restricted on the proposed grounds.

To use an analogy to general freedom of expression, the fact that people do not possess full freedom of expression (there are limits on expression) does not entail that politically based restrictions should therefore be accepted. After all, there are many alternatives between full freedom and the specific restrictions being proposed.

To be fair to Korn, no such false dilemma might exist. Instead, Korn might be reasoning that because political values restrict academic expression it follows that adding additional restrictions is not a problem. To re-use the analogy to general free expression, the reasoning would that since there are already limits on free expression, more restrictions are (or could be) acceptable. This might be seen as a common practice fallacy but could be justified by showing that the proposed restrictions are warranted. Sorting this out requires considering what Korn is proposing.

In place of the academic freedom standard, Korn proposes “a more rigorous standard: one of ‘academic justice.’ When an academic community observes research promoting or justifying oppression, it should ensure that this research does not continue.”

While Korn claims this is a more rigorous standard, it seems to be only more restrictive. There is also the challenge of rigorously and accurately defining what it is for research to promote or justify oppression. While this was of concern way back in 2014, it is of even greater concern in 2026. This is because the American right has embraced the strategy of claiming that white, straight, men are the truest victims of “woke” oppression. This is part of a broader approach of the right to turn terms, tactics and strategies used by the left against them. For example, the right has used accusations of antisemitism to attack institutions of higher education.

Back in 2014, Korn proposed that students, faculty and workers should organize to “to make our universities look as we want them to do.” While that sounds democratic, there is still the concern about what standards should be used.

While there are paradigm cases (like the institutionalized racism of pre-civil rights America), people do use the term “oppression” to refer to what merely offends them. In fact, Korn refers to the offensiveness of a person’s comment as grounds for removing a professor.

 One danger is that the vagueness of this principle could be used to suppress and oppress research that vocal or influential people find offensive. There is also the concern that such a principle would create a hammer to beat down those who present dissenting or unpopular views. Ironically, this principle from 2014 would be ideal for “conversion” into a tool for the right: they could claim that “woke” and “DEI” views oppress white, straight men and hence “academic justice” would require suppressing such views. This would, of course, strike some as a perversion of the principle.

In closing, I favor justice and what is morally good. As such, I think people should be held morally accountable for their actions and statements. However, I do oppose restrictions on academic freedom for the same reason I oppose restrictions on the general freedom of expression. In the case of academic freedom, what should matter is whether the research is properly conducted and whether the claims are well-supported. To explicitly adopt a principle for deciding what is allowed and what is forbidden based on ideological views would, as history shows, have a chilling effect on research and academics. While the academic system is far from perfect, flawed research and false claims do get sorted out. Adding in a political test would not seem to help with reaching the goal of truth. Ironically, this sort of political test under the guise of addressing (imagined) oppression of white straight men (like me) is now being used by the right.

In terms of when academic freedom should be restricted, this is when an action creates enough harm to warrant limiting the freedom. Merely offending people is not enough to warrant restrictions—even if people are very offended. Threatening people or engaging in falsification of research results would not be protected by academic freedom.

As such, back in 2014 I was opposed to Korn’s modest proposal to impose more political restrictions on academic freedom. As Korn noted, there were already many restrictions in place—and there seemed to be no compelling reasons to add more. As this is being written in 2026, the right is using their own version of Korn’s principle and attempting to achieve their end of shaping the academy to fit their values. As would be suspected, I also oppose this.

https://famu.zoom.us/meeting/register/kPbbUjbsTWayeb7ceb3HTw#/registration

On April 8, 2026 I’ll be participating in a debate on the question “will AI destroy higher education?” I’m taking the “no” side. It takes place on Zoom from 12:00-1:00 PM Eastern and you can register (free) here: Meeting Registration – Zoom.

As this is being written, I’m scheduled to debate whether AI will destroy higher education. I’m arguing that it will not and what follows is how I will make my initial case.

In supporting my position, I have optimistic and pessimistic arguments (although your perspective on optimism might differ from mine. I’ll begin with my optimistic arguments, the first two of which are analogical arguments.

One way that AI might destroy higher education is by making students, broadly speaking, incompetent. While the exact scenarios vary, the idea is that using or depending on AI will weaken the minds of students and thus doom higher education. Fortunately, this is an ancient argument that has repeatedly been disproven. Socrate, it is claimed, worried that writing would weaken minds. More recently, TV, calculators, computers and even the dreaded Walkman were supposed to reduce the youth to dunces. None of these dire predictions came to pass and, by analogy, we can conclude that AI will not make the youth into fools.

A related concern is that AI will destroy higher education by rendering it obsolete though radical economic change. While scenarios vary, the worry is that higher education will no longer be needed because AI will eliminate certain jobs. While AI might result in radical change, this is also nothing new and higher education will adapt, by analogy, as it has done in the past. This will be an evolutionary event rather than a mass extinction.

My third optimistic argument is in response to worries about cheating. While AI does provide a radical new way to cheat, cheating remains a moral (and practical) choice and is not inherently a technological problem. Good ethical training and practical methods can address this threat, allowing higher education to survive.

My fourth optimistic argument, which is unrealistic and idealistic, is to content that AI might succeed and bring about a “Star Trek” utopia in which an abundance of wealth means that higher education will thrive as people will have the time and resources to learn for the sake of learning. I put the odds of this even with my various AI kills us all scenarios. Now, on to the pessimistic arguments.

One pessimistic argument is that AI will either be a bursting bubble or, less extreme, fail to live up to the hype. If the AI bubble bursts, it will hurt higher education because of the economic damage, but the academies will survive yet another bubble. If AI fails to live up to the hype, it will continue as it is, doing some damage to higher education but failing to destroy it.

My two remaining arguments are very pessimistic. The first is that AI will not destroy higher education because state and federal government will kill it first. What began with  cruel negligence has evolved into outright hostility that seems likely to only worsen. As such, the state might kill the academy before AI can do the job.

The second is, obviously enough, that AI might destroy everything else. But higher education might persist embodied in AI educating new models, with Artificial Education being the new higher education.