Colleges Need to Be More Welcoming to Post-9/11 Veterans

The Post-9/11 GI Bill is the most generous educational benefit afforded to veterans since World War II and holds the potential to profoundly impact the lives of an entire generation of military families. A common narrative has been that this potential won’t be realized until for-profit colleges can be stopped from fleecing veterans out of this historic opportunity with their relentless (some say predatory) recruiting practices, paltry graduation rates, and questionable degree value.

But there is another side to this story that deserves both attention and action — not from government watchdogs but from traditional nonprofit and, yes, elite colleges and universities.

Consider that last year, post-9/11 veterans represented less than 1 percent of the total undergraduate students enrolled in the U.S. News & World Report’s top-20 colleges and universities in America. In fact, some of those top institutions count in the single digits the number of post-9/11 veterans enrolled as undergraduates. Further, last year Syracuse University’s Institute for Veterans and Military Families, which I direct, surveyed more than 8,500 post-9/11 veterans about their experiences with and future plans for higher education, and found that the most cited barrier to their pursuit of a traditional college degree was the perception that, as veterans, they would not be “welcome” or would not “fit in” on a college campus.

Where is the outrage here? Why have the same groups that have gone after the for-profit colleges with such vigor over veterans largely given a pass to traditional colleges with regard to providing veterans with an accessible, affordable, and practical alternative to the for-profit institutions?

I pose this question as a veteran and also as someone serving in a leadership role at one of those traditional institutions. And that’s exactly why I’m simultaneously frustrated with the for-profit debate and compelled to ask why so many of America’s best colleges and universities have been largely on the sidelines when it comes to educating an entire generation of veterans.

Part of the challenge is structural, and rooted in the fact that veterans are nontraditional students — older than their nonveteran student peers, more likely to be married, have children, and need to hold down a job while going to school. Unfortunately, too few of the country’s top colleges have been willing to invest in programs and supportive services that would help nontraditional students succeed. That includes creating an atmosphere of inclusion (for example, by creating orientation and bridge programs designed specifically for nontraditional students) and adapting the academic environment and administrative processes (such as offering night, weekend, and asynchronous distance-education classes).

For veterans, however, the challenge goes beyond structural barriers. It’s about the narrative. Even today, the prevailing rhetoric related to veterans and traditional higher education is grounded in the notion of obligation — a responsibility to “repay a debt” to those who have served. This narrative is limiting, patronizing, and just wrong.

First, the lens of obligation serves to entrench a perception among recruiters, admission officials, and faculty that veterans can’t succeed at top colleges on their own merits, but out of obligation we should let a few into our ivory tower. Second, viewing veterans through the lens of obligation seeds a campus climate that can make veterans feel unwelcome and even unsafe. Instead, the narrative should be about opportunity — the opportunity to make our best institutions richer, more dynamic, more diverse, and ultimately better by integrating and empowering veterans across our campus communities. The history of my own institution represents a powerful example of this opportunity.

Following World War II, Syracuse University opened its doors to veterans, and by 1949 we had welcomed more than 10,000 to our campus. Their experiences at Syracuse University, when combined with their military experiences, accelerated their potential as both individuals and citizens, to the benefit of our nation. Most relevant to this argument, however, is the fact that they changed our institution profoundly for the better.

They made us better because they came to campus with global experiences, broad diversity, and a commitment to service. They made us better because in our classrooms and in our student organizations they proved to be resilient, resourceful, entrepreneurial, and adept at team building. They exercised dynamic leadership abilities that had been tested under the most real-world conditions imaginable. The opportunity was a quid pro quo: They made us better, and in turn we empowered those veterans of the “Greatest Generation” to change the world.

Similarly, when President Obama signed the Post-9/11 GI Bill he said, “We do it because these men and women must now be prepared to lead our nation in the peaceful pursuit of economic leadership in the 21st century.” Those words were a call to action directed squarely at higher education, and it’s time we act with purpose and collaboration.

The Post-9/11 GI Bill confers to the nation’s colleges and universities a rare opportunity — that is, to educate an entire generation of American veterans. To that end, history will judge the great university leaders of this generation to be those who acted purposefully to engage and empower the post-9/11 generation. Conversely, in the absence of bold leadership and coordinated action, the picture that historians will paint of the opportunity presented by the Post-9/11 GI Bill will be an epic failing of higher education as an institution.

Mike Haynie is vice chancellor of Syracuse University, a former U.S. Air Force officer, and executive director of Syracuse University’s Institute for Veterans and Military Families.