BILL GATES: DO YOU STILL HAVE TO MOW YOUR ASTROTURF
In the land of democracy and free markets, a peculiar breed of philanthropist has emerged. These were not your average donors with hearts full of altruism and wallets full of modesty. No, these were the billionaire oligarchs—titans of industry who wore the cloak of benevolence but wielded the sword of privatization. Their mission? To "save" public education. Their method? Astroturfing. Their endgame? Well, that depended on which billionaire you asked. For Gates, it was software sales. For Walton, it was charter schools. For DeVos, it was a religious revival. And for the Koch brothers, it was whatever the free market whispered in their ears that morning.
Astroturfing, for the uninitiated, is a political tactic as old as fake sincerity itself. It’s when corporate interests dress up as grassroots movements to convince the public that their agenda has widespread support. Think of it as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but the wolf is wearing a T-shirt that says "Parents for a Better Future" and handing out glossy brochures at a PTA meeting.
The Birth of the Billionaire Reformers
The early 2000s were a fertile time for these education reform crusaders. Bill Gates, armed with his Microsoft billions and an insatiable desire to disrupt things that weren’t broken, decided that American public schools needed saving. He funded initiatives to improve graduation rates, increase college readiness, and—let’s not forget—sell a boatload of educational software. Organizations like Khan Academy and YouthBuild USA were showered with Gates Foundation grants. On the surface, it looked like pure philanthropy. But peel back the layers, and you’d find a carefully orchestrated campaign to reshape education in the image of corporate efficiency.
Meanwhile, the Koch brothers were busy funding their own brand of reform. Through organizations like the Vela Education Fund and Yes. Every Kid., they championed school choice, vouchers, and other market-based solutions. Their approach was less about helping students and more about dismantling public institutions in favor of private enterprises. After all, nothing says "freedom" like turning education into a commodity.
Not to be outdone, the Walton Family Foundation poured millions into charter schools. Their strategy was simple: fund as many startups as possible, replicate successful models, and quietly ignore the ones that failed spectacularly. They also supported groups like the National Alliance for Public Charter Schools and the Charter School Growth Fund, ensuring that their vision of privatized education had a robust network of advocates.
And then there was Betsy DeVos, the queen of school choice herself. Her family’s contributions to organizations like the American Federation for Children and the Great Lakes Education Project were less about reform and more about redirecting public funds to private schools—preferably ones with a Christian curriculum.
The Great Grassroots Disguise
What made these efforts so insidious wasn’t just the money—it was the marketing. These billionaires didn’t just throw cash at their pet projects; they created entire ecosystems of faux-grassroots organizations to sell their agenda to the public. Groups like Parent Revolution, Moms for Liberty, and Students for Education Reform popped up seemingly overnight, each claiming to represent concerned parents or passionate students. In reality, they were bankrolled by the same handful of billionaires who stood to benefit from privatization.
Take Parent Revolution, for example. This Los Angeles-based group was ostensibly about empowering parents to improve failing schools. In practice, it was a slick operation funded by Walton, Broad, and Gates money, designed to push charter schools and undermine teachers’ unions. Their piรจce de rรฉsistance was the "Parent Trigger Law," which allowed parents to petition for drastic changes in underperforming schools—changes that almost always led to privatization.
Then there was Moms for Liberty, a group that started as a parental rights organization but quickly became a vehicle for conservative culture wars. With support from figures like Ron DeSantis and Vivek Ramaswamy, Moms for Liberty turned school board meetings into battlegrounds over issues like critical race theory and LGBTQ+ inclusion. Their slogan might as well have been "Liberty for some, censorship for all."
The Firehose of Propaganda
Of course, no astroturf campaign would be complete without a media blitz. The billionaires leveraged their control over mainstream media to flood the airwaves with pro-reform narratives. Teachers’ unions were painted as villains; public schools were portrayed as failing institutions beyond redemption. The voices of actual students, parents, and educators were drowned out in a deluge of think tank reports, op-eds, and glossy ad campaigns.
Social media only amplified this dynamic. Groups like Students for Education Reform used Instagram-worthy activism to attract young supporters who often had no idea they were pawns in a larger game. Meanwhile, critics of corporate reform struggled to compete with the sheer volume of content churned out by these well-funded organizations.
The Inevitable Backlash
But here’s the thing about astroturf: it doesn’t hold up well under scrutiny. As more people began to question the motives behind these reforms, cracks started to appear in the billionaires’ carefully constructed facade.
Critics like Diane Ravitch, Anthony Cody, Mike and Fred Klonsky, Leonie Haimson, Larry Ferlazzo, Bruce D. Baker, Mark Weber, Nancy Flanagan, Deborah Meier and so many more took to blogs and social media to expose the truth about corporate education reform. They highlighted how charter schools siphoned funds from public schools without delivering better outcomes. They pointed out how high-stakes testing and teacher evaluations based on test scores created perverse incentives that harmed students and educators alike.
Even some of the billionaires’ chosen policies began to backfire. The Obama administration’s Race to the Top program, which incentivized states to adopt controversial reforms, led to widespread dissatisfaction among teachers and parents. And while groups like Teach For America initially enjoyed widespread support, their emphasis on short-term teaching stints began to draw criticism for undermining professional educators.
The Fall of the Astroturf Empire
By the mid-2010s, the tide was turning against corporate education reform. Grassroots organizations like Network for Public Education, Public Education Partners, Parents Across America and the Badass Teachers Association began to push back against astroturf groups, exposing their funding sources and dubious tactics. Local school board elections became battlegrounds where real grassroots activists fought to reclaim public education from corporate interests.
Even some of the billionaires themselves began to retreat. Bill Gates shifted his focus away from controversial policies like teacher evaluations based on test scores. Betsy DeVos’s tenure as Secretary of Education was marked by widespread opposition and limited legislative success.
Today, many of these astroturf organizations are shadows of their former selves. Parent Revolution has largely faded from view. Students for Education Reform is no longer making headlines. And while groups like Moms for Liberty continue to make noise, their influence is increasingly confined to conservative echo chambers.
The Lessons Learned
So what can we learn from this sordid chapter in American education history? First and foremost, we must remain vigilant against efforts to privatize public goods under the guise of philanthropy. Billionaires may have deep pockets, but their vision for education often prioritizes profits over people.
Second, we must invest in true grassroots activism. Real change comes from communities working together—not from top-down initiatives funded by distant oligarchs.
Finally, we must recognize that public education is not just a service; it’s a cornerstone of democracy. When we allow billionaires to dictate its future, we risk losing not just our schools but our collective voice. We must fight for full funding of public education to meet the needs of each new generation of American children.
In the end, the story of billionaire-funded astroturf education reform is a cautionary tale—a reminder that even the most well-funded campaigns can crumble under the weight of their own hubris. Let us hope that future generations will look back on this era not as a blueprint but as a warning: never underestimate the power of true grassroots movements—or the folly of those who try to fake them.