The myth of the downwardly mobile college graduate

The heyday of the “high-skill” worker is ending.

As corporations find new ways to replace labor with machines, more and more professionals are seeing their vaunted credentials lose their value. Many have been forced into menial jobs — while others cling to their prestigious positions only by accepting ever more exploitative terms of employment. 

The class distinctions that once cleaved skilled workers from common laborers are therefore eroding. And as they do, the former are starting to embrace the politics of proletarians: identifying with the masses instead of management — and demanding structural change instead of milquetoast reforms. Today, “high-skill” workers’ declining fortunes are a problem for them; tomorrow, they will be one for the oligarchic elite. 

Or so Karl Marx argued in 1848. 

The ensuing 17 decades weren’t kind to Marx’s prophecies. Instead of melting every strata of worker into a uniform proletariat, capitalism generated myriad new gradations of skill, pay, and prestige. And rather than immiserating professionals and proles alike, market economies drastically raised living standards for workers in general, and the highly educated in particular (or at least, they did so once leavened with a spoonful of socialism).

Nonetheless, some now suspect that Marx’s predictions may have been less wrong than premature. The steam engine might not have devalued all skilled labor, but artificial intelligence sure seems like it might. What’s more, even before the past decade’s AI breakthroughs, many college graduates were already struggling to find white-collar work, growing disillusioned, and drifting left.

In a recent New York Times essay, the (very good) labor reporter Noam Scheiber argues that the past 15 years of economic change have taken a toll on young college graduates, bequeathing them “the bank accounts — and the politics — of the proletariat.”

In his telling, recent grads feel they were sold a bill of goods. Throughout their childhoods, every authority promised that they could attain a comfortable, middle-class lifestyle, so long as they secured a university diploma. But too many students took this offer. The economy started minting more knowledge workers than white-collar jobs, thereby consigning a historically large share of graduates to unemployment or low-wage service work.

As a result, in Scheiber’s telling, the politics of college graduates have been transformed. In the Reagan and Clinton eras, the highly educated tended to see themselves “as management-adjacent — ­as future executives and aspiring professionals being groomed for a life of affluence.” Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, university graduates voted to the right of working-class Americans, while holding more conservative views on economic policy.

Now, grads are more likely to identify with rank-and-file workers than their employers. In fact, overqualified baristas, discontented coders, and precariously-employed journalists have spearheaded a boom in labor organizing. 

Meanwhile, college-educated voters have become slightly more economically left-wing — and much more Democratic — than those without degrees.

Scheiber acknowledges that these political shifts have multiple causes. But his account of college graduates’ realignment is still largely materialist: The demographic was increasingly “proletarianized” — which is to say, shunted into working-class jobs — and moved left as a consequence.

There’s much truth in Scheiber’s reporting. And in his new book, Mutiny: The Rise and Revolt of the College-Educated Working Class, he offers keen insights into the radicalization of the overeducated and underemployed. 

But his big-picture narrative about college grads’ shifting fortunes and politics is a bit misleading. A variety of forces have been pushing highly educated voters to the left. But a broad collapse in the economic position of the well-educated is not one of them.

The (college) kids are all right

Without question, the past two generations of college graduates have faced some unique economic challenges. The cost of a university education has risen sharply since the 1990s, forcing students to shoulder larger debts. And in the cities where white-collar jobs are concentrated, housing costs have soared. 

Nevertheless, there is little evidence that college-educated workers have been proletarianized, en masse. To the contrary, by some metrics, graduates are doing better today than they were in the 1990s.

In painting the opposite picture, Scheiber leans heavily on anecdotes. Much of his reporting centers on college-educated workers who are stuck in low-wage service jobs. And he suggests that the fate of these scholarly waiters and well-read retail clerks is becoming increasingly common. 

To make this case, Scheiber cites Federal Reserve data on the types of jobs held by “underemployed” college graduates — meaning, graduates whose occupations don’t require a degree. He notes that, among this subset of young grads, the percentage with well-paying, non-college jobs — such as insurance agent or human resource worker — has declined over time, while the share with low-wage jobs has increased.

This is true. But Scheiber’s presentation of the data point is misleading. 

Low-wage workers do account for a rising share of underemployed college graduates. And yet, the percentage of college grads who are underemployed has declined over time. For this reason — according to Scheiber’s preferred data set — recent college graduates were less likely to hold a low-wage job in 2023 than they had been three decades earlier.

More critically, throughout this period, the share of recent graduates in low-wage jobs was always tiny. In 2023 — the most recent year in the Fed’s data — just 4.5 percent of young college-educated workers held such positions. Among college graduates of all ages, meanwhile, that figure was 2.2 percent. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s early career as a struggling bartender saddled with student loans is a key part of her political biography, but it’s not the typical experience for the diploma set. Nor has it become more common over time. 

Of course, just because a job requires a college degree doesn’t mean it’s well-paid. But college grads’ wages have also trended upward over time. And the gap between the pay of workers with a degree and those who only completed high school has widened slightly since 2003.

Scheiber argues that such wage data obscures as much as it reveals. He concedes that college grads earn much more than working-class Americans “on average.” But he suggests that these averages are skewed by the knowledge economy’s inequalities: If a small minority of workers in tech and finance reap massive pay gains, then the average wage for college graduates can go up, even if most are treading water or falling behind.

And yet, the median wage data tells the same general story as the averages: Between 2000 and 2025, the median college graduate’s earnings rose both in absolute terms, and relative to the median worker with a high school diploma (albeit only modestly). 

All this said, Scheiber identifies one indisputably concerning trend in the college-educated labor market: For five years now, the unemployment rate for recent college grads has been higher than the overall jobless rate. This is highly unusual; historically, young grads have had an easier time finding jobs than the typical worker. 

Still, it’s important to put this trend in context. Young college graduates remain much less likely to be unemployed than other workers of the same age. And joblessness still afflicts only a small fraction of graduates. In December 2025, the unemployment rate among recent grads was 5.6 percent; among all grads, it was only 3.1 percent.

None of this means that young college graduates have no legitimate grounds for complaint or concern. The point is merely that, in the aggregate, college-educated workers’ economic circumstances have not dramatically deteriorated, even as their political behavior has drastically changed. The “proletarianization” experienced by some college graduates therefore can’t explain more than a small fraction of the demographic’s leftward shift.

Why college graduates moved left (or “What’s the matter with Greenwich?”)

So, what can? Why have college graduates become so much more left-wing — in their economic attitudes, issue positions, and voting behavior?

There are many right answers to this question. Here, I’ll just sketch four:

1. The demographics of America’s college-educated population have changed.

“College-educated voters” are not a fixed caste of immortals, drifting through time — backing Calvin Coolidge in one era and Kamala Harris in another.

Rather, that phrase denotes a demographic category, whose internal composition is constantly changing. Over the past four decades, America’s college-educated population has grown less white and more female. In 1980, just 13.6 percent of American women over 25 had a college degree, while just 7.9 percent of Black Americans did, according to US Census data. By 2024, those figures had jumped to 40.1 percent and 29.6 percent respectively. (Rates of college attendance among white and male Americans also rose over this time period, but at a much slower rate.)

This shift surely pushed the college-educated population leftward. Since the 1980s, women have been more likely than men to espouse progressive views on the economy and vote for Democrats in elections. And the same is true of nonwhite voters relative to white ones. Thus, the feminization — and diversification — of the college-educated electorate likely accounts for much of its liberalization. 

Put differently: If nothing else had changed about America’s society or economy since 1980, the changing demographics of college-educated voters would have been sufficient to move that population to the left.

2. The culture war led many socially liberal college graduates to become Democrats.

College graduates have been more socially liberal — and cosmopolitan — than less educated voters, since at least the 1950s. In the mid-20th century, however, cultural issues were less politically salient. Republicans and Democrats didn’t have uniformly divergent positions on immigration, feminism, racial justice, or the environment. 

But the major parties began polarizing on those subjects in the 1970s. And such issues became increasingly central to our politics in the ensuing decades. In part for this reason, college graduates have been drifting toward Democrats — and working-class voters, toward Republicans — for half a century.

The French economist Thomas Piketty illustrated this trend in 2018. In the following chart, negative values mean that Democrats did better with working-class voters than college-educated ones in that election year; positive values mean the opposite:

In other words, the highly educated’s realignment began long before the (real and supposed) 21st-century economic trends that Scheiber describes. 

To be sure, the “diploma divide” widened dramatically in recent years. Yet the inflection point for that shift was not the Great Recession, but rather, Donald Trump’s 2016 campaign — which associated the GOP with an unprecedentedly anti-intellectual, authoritarian, and xenophobic brand of nationalism. 

And there are other signs that it was the culture war — not economic strife — that drove college graduates toward Democrats.

For one thing, across Western countries, there is a tight correlation between how central social issues are to political conflict and how likely college-educated voters are to support left-wing parties.

For another, the college-educated voters who’ve joined the Democratic coalition in recent years are disproportionately affluent. Of the 57 counties that have consistently moved toward the Democratic Party in all three presidential elections since 2012, 18 have a median household income above $100,000. 

The same pattern shows up in individual-level voting data. In 2012, white voters in the top 5 percent of the income distribution voted to the right of Americans as a whole. In every presidential election since 2016, however, rich whites have been more Democratic than those in the bottom 95 percent of the income distribution.

Simply put, Greenwich did not swing toward Democrats because its people were proletarianized, so much as because the GOP was Trumpified. 

3. When socially liberal college graduates became Democrats, many adopted the economic orthodoxies of their new coalition.

To his credit, Scheiber acknowledges that the culture war played a big role in college graduates’ partisan realignment. But he suggests that this can’t explain the transformation of educated voters’ economic views. 

Which is reasonable. Perhaps, the rising salience of immigration, feminism, and authoritarianism have made college grads more likely to vote Democratic. But why would it have rendered them more pro-labor? Surely, one may think, the latter must have more to do with changing economic circumstances than culture war allegiances.

As I’ll note in a minute, I do think that college graduates’ shifting economic views partly reflect their material challenges.

But it’s also plausible that, to a large extent, the demographic has become more economically progressive because it’s grown more Democratic.  

Voters often switch parties on the basis of a few key issues — those core to their political identities — and then take dictation from their new coalition on other subjects. One can see this anecdotally in the evolution of “Never Trump” Republican pundits like Bill Kristol or Jennifer Rubin. Each broke with the GOP over Trump’s authoritarianism and foreign policy views, but subsequently embraced a variety of liberal policy positions. 

This dynamic — in which partisanship can drive economic ideology — is arguably visible in some of the polling that Scheiber cites. In his essay, he notes that college graduates are much more likely to approve of labor unions today than they were in the 1990s. And he interprets this as a sign that graduates have stopped seeing themselves as “management-adjacent.” 

And yet, in the Gallup survey he references, college graduates were 15 points more likely to support unions than those with a high school degree or less. Meanwhile, Americans with annual incomes above $100,000 were 6 percentage points more pro-labor than those earning less than $50,000.

Notably, this appears to be a novel development. According to American National Election Studies data, college graduates expressed warmer feelings for “big business” than for “labor unions” virtually every year between 1964 and 2012. Then, in 2016, they abruptly became more pro-union than pro-business. By 2024, America’s most educated workers were its most pro-labor.

Conversely, the least educated segment of Americans —– those without a high-school degree —– went from being the most pro-union segment of the workforce in the early 1980s to the least in 2016 (although, they still approved of labor unions by more than big business in that year). 

This pattern of support is difficult to explain, if we assume that a voter’s opinion on unions is a reliable index of their (perceived or actual) adjacency to management. On the other hand, if voters’ economic opinions are shaped by both their material interests and partisanship, then the disparities make perfect sense. Labor unions are associated with the Democratic Party. So, as college graduates have grown more Democratic, they’ve looked more kindly on unions. As the “poorly educated” (in Trump’s famous phrase) became more Republican, they became less likely to approve of labor than other Americans. 

If true, this would be consistent with a large body of political science data showing that partisans express more sympathy for groups that favor their political party. 

4. Millennials and capitalism got off on the wrong foot.

In saying all this, I don’t mean to deny that some college-educated voters have embraced radical, pro-labor politics, in response to material difficulties. 

Although recent graduates have not been proletarianized en masse, many millennials did graduate into a labor market scarred by the Great Recession. During our first, formative years as workers, we often struggled to secure well-paying jobs, as a direct consequence of Wall Street’s malfeasance. 

Millennials’ earnings and net worths eventually caught up to those of prior generations. But people’s political beliefs are typically forged during late adolescence and early adulthood. The 2008 crisis therefore left many millennials persistently skeptical of capitalism, even when it didn’t render them durably underemployed. The 2011 Occupy Wall Street protests, which crystallized these grievances for many recent graduates, were an important precursor to today’s left-wing activism.

Separately, young professionals in the media and academia have seen a genuine collapse in their economic prospects: It was much harder to earn a middle-class living at a magazine or humanities department in 2016 than it was in 1996. And it is harder still to do so in 2026. 

The “ideas” industries comprise a small share of the overall economy. But they exert wildly disproportionate influence over political discourse. Thus, the declining fortunes of aspiring journalists and academics has likely colored the worldviews of other politically engaged millennials and zoomers, even if their own industries are fairly healthy.

This said, these factors probably don’t have that much to do with the movement of college-educated Romney 2012 voters toward the Democratic Party. Rather, the Great Recession — and jobs crises within journalism and academia — help explain why perennially left-of-center subsets of the college-educated electorate have gravitated toward socialism in recent years.  

AI could still prove Marx right

Capitalism still hasn’t turned educated professionals into immiserated proletarians — or unified the working class in opposition to the bourgeoisie. 

This may be about to change. Certainly, AI poses a greater threat to knowledge workers’ class status than any previous technological breakthrough. Indeed, many tech CEOs are explicitly promising to put millions of white-collar workers out of a job. So, reports of the college-educated’s economic dispossession — and political mutiny — may prove prescient. But such declarations remain, for the moment, ahead of their time.