The issues discussed in this interview will be taken up in the roundtable “Reclaiming Legitimacy: Universities, Elites, and Democratic Renewal” (May 14, 6–8 PM, Rome), held as part of an international seminar on higher education.
At a moment when universities are increasingly caught between populist attacks, technocratic pressures, and a growing crisis of legitimacy, Chris Higgins argues that higher education must recover its democratic and human purpose. Higgins, who coordinates the program in Transformative Educational Studies and co-directs the Formative Leadership Education Project at Boston College, reflects on the failures of meritocracy, the culture of competitive individualism, and the reduction of learning to what he calls “studenting.”
How could universities end up embodying the symbol of privilege—of hated elites?
The political use of that idea—especially in congressional hearings—may be new, but elitism in higher education is not. Speaking from the U.S. context, where I’ve taught across different types of institutions, the system has long favored upper-class students and reflected racial biases. As Jerome Karabel shows in The Chosen, Ivy League admissions historically institutionalized these exclusions. So the accusation is new; the underlying problem is not.
This criticism doesn’t come only from Republicans, but also from Democrats and left-leaning thinkers like Michael Sandel…
I agree with Sandel. Meritocracy hasn’t reshuffled the social hierarchy—it has legitimized inequality, laundering inherited advantage, as if it were the result of talent and effort.
How can selection be reformed to reconcile excellence and inclusion?
The U.S. system sorts students according to a narrow—and distorted—idea of academic talent. Students are driven to chase benchmarks, so we end up selecting not for intelligence or even genuine academic achievement, but for the ability to jump through hoops. This favors those who, by background and resources, already have an advantage in the “game” of school. It also rewards people who are willing to define success in others’ terms—who conform and follow rules.
The deeper problem is that learning itself has been eclipsed by what I call “studenting”: performing well within the system—getting the grade, ticking the boxes—rather than engaging in meaningful inquiry and development. As I argue in Undeclared, any reform needs to broaden what counts as excellence and move away from this performative model.
What are the main problems in the university system, and what can be reformed?
We need to reboot the culture of higher education—away from a meritocratic logic of social sorting and competitive individualism. Education is about character—not just skills or knowledge. We are so focused on the formal curriculum that we forget that it is ethos—the values embedded in interactions and institutions—that is the true formative power.
The ethos of contemporary higher education teaches students that learning is a zero-sum game. As Michael Sandel correctly points out, this breeds arrogance in the “winners” and resentment in the “losers.” This is no way to foster social trust and form democratic citizens.
How can universities practically redefine their public mission—to form future citizens?
The first step, as mentioned, is to question the ethos of competitive individualism and move away from seeing the university primarily as a mechanism for social sorting and credentialing. Once that shift begins, other possibilities open up. The focus can return to a broader idea of education—what in the U.S. is called “general education”—aimed at the whole person. That includes not just technical knowledge, but also judgment, imagination, and reason.
In an age where people are increasingly tempted to defer judgment to experts, gurus, or even algorithms, universities have a crucial role to play. A central task of liberal education is precisely to cultivate independent judgment and the capacity to think critically about the world and oneself.
How can we prevent universities from having this role of social sorting then?
I find Michael Sandel’s critique persuasive here. To step back, John Dewey argued that one of the core problems in education is the divide between the liberal and the vocational—between culture and utility. This divide reflects a society that artificially elevates some forms of work while devaluing others, and the curriculum ends up reinforcing that hierarchy.
Part of the solution, then, is to rethink how we value work: not as a marker of status—measured by salary or credentials—but as an expression of human dignity and contribution to the common good. If we develop a broader appreciation for different kinds of valuable work, the pressure on universities to act as arbiters of a high-stakes competition for a narrow set of “prestigious” outcomes could be reduced.
Are there examples historically of that?
There are examples—historical and contemporary—of institutions where this sorting function is less central. In my book Undeclared, I discuss Black Mountain College, an experimental institution in North Carolina active in the mid-20th century. There, education was not organized around sorting, but around personal and intellectual development: understanding the world, cultivating creativity, and engaging with meaningful work. Such examples suggest that when universities are not structured around meritocratic competition, education can take a very different form.
How can democratic legitimacy be restored to the formation of elites?
Rather than focusing on restoring the legitimacy of elites, we should double down on the idea of the demos and rethink higher education. John Dewey argued that democracy is not just a set of mechanisms—elections, term limits, separation of powers—but a way of life, “a mode of associated living.” If that’s the case, then the task is to revive the public purpose of higher education: creating spaces where people experience and practice that democratic way of life.
For Dewey, this includes genuine communication across difference. Democracy is inherently educative—it requires people to move beyond closed silos and engage with those who think differently. That process, in turn, expands one’s perspective and strengthens the capacity for judgment essential to democratic life.
Universities have been attacked not only as symbols of privilege and elitism—a typical populist stance—but also as a way for politics, especially in the United States but not only, to delegitimize any liberal purpose.
On the one hand, we have to acknowledge a real problem of elitism and social sorting in universities. On the other, we should reject the idea that efforts like fighting racism amount to imposing a narrow liberal ideology, or that universities should be reduced to neutral “marketplaces of ideas.”
Universities are formative spaces. They shape character—what one might even call virtue—including respect for others, the ability to confront inherited prejudices, and to understand difference and power. So while the critique of elite institutions becoming disconnected from broader society is valid, populist responses that claim to speak for “the people” often project narrow, self-serving agendas.
What’s the response to that criticism?
What’s needed is a threefold response. First, serious self-critique about the university’s role in reproducing elitism. Second, resistance to reactionary attacks on so-called “wokeism.” Third, avoiding a retreat into a narrow, technocratic vision of the university as merely producing and transmitting knowledge.
That technocratic drift is visible, for instance, in the emphasis on “innovation.” The term is often treated as inherently positive, but it is morally neutral—many harmful developments were also “innovations.” Treating it as an unquestioned good risk aligning universities with a purely instrumental, profit-driven logic, rather than a broader search for understanding.
How can change actually happen within universities?
Change is possible within institutions, but it has to start with concrete areas—admissions, for example. In the U.S., admissions have become deeply inhumane. Students spend years trying to make themselves “worthy” of highly ranked universities, and experience real distress when they fall short.
As William Deresiewicz argues in Excellent Sheep, the system creates a paradox: to win the competition, you have to become the kind of person who is no longer able to fully benefit from what the university is supposed to offer—exploration, self-discovery, meaningful direction. The skilled hoop jumper arrives on campus looking for more hoops to jump. So, both those who lose and those who win are, in different ways, damaged by the process.
How can governing bodies be pushed to put reform on the agenda?
This is a systemic problem, so there’s no simple fix. But there are signs of a broader cultural shift. Even before AI, admissions officers were starting to acknowledge the brokenness of a system that rewards students for cynical, performative resume building. And I think we are starting to recognize how meritocracy serves as a cover for the reproduction of privilege.
Meanwhile, the economistic logic that has come to dominate education is unraveling, as the inherently destabilizing force that is capitalism—now turbocharged by AI—dissolves the jobs that were supposed to be the “return on investment.”
So this is a multifaceted crisis—but also an opening. As the system’s flaws become more visible, there is space to rethink what higher education is really about. The university can and should be more than a queue for the labor market.
What can be done to increase social mobility and real inclusiveness—so that access to elite universities is not simply reproduced across generations? What is most urgent: changes in admissions, costs, grants, or something else?
Speaking from the U.S. context, a first priority is to equalize opportunities before college. School quality is often tied to local property values, since funding comes largely from property taxes. This means wealthy areas have well-funded public schools, while poorer communities do not. Breaking that link would give working-class students a fairer chance to reach competitive admissions.
A second step is to reduce the intensity of competition by reinvesting in public universities and addressing the strong stratification of higher education—from elite institutions down to regional colleges and community colleges. Strengthening accessible, lower-cost public education would ease the pressure to land a spot in a small number of highly selective universities.
Are there concrete institutional examples?
Bard College, in New York, is a serious liberal arts college that truly walks the talk of inclusion. They offer combined high-school/early-college programs to scaffold the college admissions process for students from less-privileged backgrounds. And they offer alternatives to an admissions process that places so much weight on standardized test scores and resource-intensive resume-padding. They have both an online essay entrance exam and an “Immediate Decision Plan” where applicants come to campus, participate in a class, and meet with an admissions counselor. If the student shows they are ready for college-level work, they can be admitted on the spot, bypassing the college admissions “Hunger Games.”
After dedicating so much of your work to these issues, are you confident that it will lead to real change—shaping political agendas and government action?
I wouldn’t say I’m confident—only hopeful. The world is changing quickly, and not in reassuring ways. I do think we’re at a moment where capitalism and democracy, once aligned, are coming into tension. In its current form, capitalism is destabilizing institutions such as the university needed to pursue democracy as a way of life.
What I am confident about is that there is a growing dissatisfaction with an educational system that is narrowly careerist, ruthlessly competitive, and morally hollow. People hunger for educational spaces where they can seek meaning and purpose, in community. This gives me hope that we can work to reconnect education with democratic life and the common good.
Cover photo: Photo by OLI SCARFF / AFP
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