I often feel like the skunk at a garden party.
This is not unusual for journalists: Our jobs often require us to ask tough questions and say things that others may be too polite to say (at least out loud). I can’t blame it all on my career, though; that’s just who I am, and the old dog hasn’t changed.
Over the past few years, I have attended numerous gatherings of university leaders that included representatives from highly selective wealthy institutions. No doubt one or more of them will refer to their institution as “elite” when discussing certain higher education issues.
This was a record-breaking moment for me. Sometimes I can let go, but not long ago at a Washington party hosted by the Ivy League, I couldn’t help myself. I remained silent for several hours, but I couldn’t help myself as the participants (who came from what my colleague Rachel Toor calls “the fancy school”) kept referring to themselves as “elites” while lamenting why their relationship with the federal government had soured.
I first (and I admit it was a bit annoying) read the definition of the word: “a select group of people who are superior in ability or quality to the rest of the group or society.” I (dis)respectfully suggested that if we had a clear definition of “excellence” that everyone could agree on, it might be reasonable to refer to the Yales, Amherst Colleges, and UVAs of the world in this way.
But I don’t think there is a clear definition of “good” or any other synonym for elite in higher education. Some colleges and universities are often considered the best because they are the oldest or because us news Other rankers, whose methods often favor wealth, selectivity and research output, agree. Or because my colleagues in the national media are obsessed with them at the expense of thousands of other institutions.
(As I wrote recently, I’m totally open to a rigorous discussion about how we define “the best” or the most valuable, i.e. those who can best help students achieve the educational goals they set, or which learners learn or develop the most during their time at an institution. Anyone interested?)
When we refer to a group of colleges and universities as “elite”—and when people at these institutions refer to themselves So – what exactly are we communicating?
The Oxford Learner’s Dictionary defines “elite” as “a small but powerful and influential group of people in society because they are rich, intelligent, etc.”
The top synonyms for the word on Thesaurus.com are “exclusive” and “stockings.”
Now we’ve made progress.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with exclusivity or influence, and goodness knows, the dozens of highly selective, often wealthy, most visible and powerful colleges and universities that journalists and pundits often refer to as “the elite” contribute greatly to our society. They typically do a great job for the students who are lucky enough to be admitted, producing important research and knowledge, developing leaders, and generating huge economic benefits for society and students. (It’s important to admit that I am one of these personal beneficiaries.)
It feels a little unfair to kick them when they’re on the defensive, and in my 40 years of paying close attention to higher education, they’re more on the defensive than ever.
But as the name of this column suggests, I ask this question out of (tough) love. Yes, these institutions have contributed greatly, but several aspects of how they operate have put them in their current predicament (made worse by the Trump administration’s efforts to punish these institutions for its own political and class-war reasons).
Reasons why the most selective private and public colleges and universities (appropriately) find themselves under scrutiny include:
- Their benefits accrue disproportionately to those who are already privileged. Yes, most of them have prioritized recruiting low-income, first-generation, and minority students over the past 10 to 15 years more than ever before, and they deserve credit for doing so (with the help of organizations like America’s Talent Initiative).
But the release of the so-called Chetty data in 2017, more formally known as Opportunity Insights’ Social Mobility Index, reinforces years of work by the Pell Institute and others to show that, rather than undermining the social order, many of the most prestigious institutions of higher education reinforce it rather than giving advantages to the rich and white. While Chetty’s study cannot be replicated, this recent chart from James Murphy, which focuses on representation of low-income learners, is significant.
While this is most problematic among selective private colleges, many public flagship universities have also been moving in the wrong direction when it comes to access as they pursue affluent out-of-state learners instead of working-class, backyard transfer students.
- Broadly speaking, they are generally not good citizens of higher education. There are many examples of wealthy colleges providing services to less fortunate colleges: Ivy League schools like Brown, Princeton, and Harvard partner with historically black colleges, and Stanford University’s Community College Outreach Program and Educational Equity Lab do excellent work for poor colleges and students, to name a few. Many creations of wealthy and highly ranked universities benefit the rest of higher education (and the world), such as the Internet.
But, as one might reasonably expect, pursuing one’s own agenda often comes at the expense of the rest of higher education. Taking advantage of their wealth and canceling loans for low-income students clearly helps those lucky enough to get valuable spots, but it also increases competition for state financial aid to the detriment of other institutions. Currently, flagship universities across the country—seeing international enrollment under threat—are increasingly selecting talented (and paying full tuition) domestic students from their regional public university peers.
In other ways, self-interest trumps good citizenship. Most highly selective and wealthy institutions are, at best, barely participating in the National Association of Colleges and Universities, and they bristle at accreditation, often believing they should be treated differently than other institutions.
As an old man, I carry some historical grudges, especially against the institutions that helped shape me. In a particularly galling moment during the Obama administration’s review of accreditation in 2011, a Princeton lobbyist, guided by then-President Shirley Tilghman, argued to a federal accreditation panel that institutions could learn best from those who had “the same background and the same experience in higher education.” (Princeton is upset that its accrediting agency, the Middle States Commission on Higher Education, has the audacity to ask the university to prove that its undergraduate thesis requirement benefits its learners.)
Tillman said it doesn’t make sense for Princeton and its neighbor Mercer County Community College to be accredited by the same accrediting agency. “This is a very good community college,” Tillman wrote. “It serves the student body very well. But Mercer County Community College and I have nothing in common… We have nothing to say about each other other than that we live in the same county.”
The nation’s most powerful institutions sometimes stand aside while other colleges and universities come under attack. When Ron DeSantis and other Southern governors launched attacks on diversity, tenure and governance at their state’s public universities early this century, most said and did almost nothing.
Of course, critics are ultimately targeting the Ivy League and other wealthy and most selective colleges and universities, and due to their arrogance and selfishness, they arguably have far fewer friends and defenders.
These institutions have disproportionate visibility, importance, and power, and we all need them to thrive. They’ll be fine – and fine – but they have a lot of work to do to regain the public’s confidence and trust.
One starting point is to stop thinking of themselves as superior to their peers and to participate more fully in the larger ecosystem that benefits them, like community colleges and regional public and private universities that successfully educate more Americans than “elite colleges.”
Can we stop using this word?
