Where Ivy League Can Afford Principles, Cash-Strapped HBCUs Face Impossible Choices

When MIT discovered it had accepted $800,000 from convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein, the university could afford to apologize profusely and donate an equivalent amount to charities supporting sexual abuse survivors. When Harvard faced scrutiny over its $9 million in Epstein donations, it promised reviews, committees, and policy reforms.

But what happens when a university is so desperate for funding that turning down any donation—no matter how tainted—could mean closing its doors forever?

That's the reality facing historically Black colleges and universities across America, institutions caught in a moral paradox that elite schools never have to confront: How do you maintain ethical standards when you're fighting for survival?

Two Higher Education Systems, Two Different Realities

The contrast couldn't be starker. Harvard's endowment stands at $50 billion—more than the combined endowments of all 102 HBCUs, which together total about $4 billion. On average, HBCUs raise roughly $3 to $4 million per institution annually, while Harvard, Yale, and Stanford each raise $3 to $4 million per day.

When you have Harvard's resources, you can afford to be selective. Cornell, Yale, and Columbia announced they would no longer accept donations from Sackler family philanthropies after the family's role in the opioid crisis became public. MIT placed a tenured professor on paid administrative leave after discovering he "purposefully failed" to inform the university that Epstein funded his research.

These are institutions wealthy enough to turn down millions on principle. HBCUs don't have that luxury.

When Survival Trumps Principle

Saint Augustine's University faces an uphill battle not only to regain its accreditation but to remain open as one of the country's oldest HBCUs, with millions of dollars in debt and multiple lawsuits. Florida A&M University lost a $16.3 million federal grant in March 2025 as the Trump administration cut funding over diversity, equity, and inclusion programs.

Fifty-four percent of Black colleges' total revenue depends on federal and state funds, compared with just one-third for other colleges and universities. When those funds are threatened or withdrawn, HBCUs face existential crises that make questions about donor ethics seem like luxuries they cannot afford.

Johnson C. Smith University receives around $10 million annually from federal research and academic support grants—money that could disappear with policy changes. As administrators prepare contingency plans, they're not debating whether to accept controversial donations. They're figuring out how to keep the lights on.

The Price of Prestige vs. The Cost of Survival

The difference isn't just financial—it's philosophical. When elite institutions accept controversial money, they're accused of "laundering reputations" and providing "a veneer of credibility" to problematic donors. Critics argue that for people like Jeffrey Epstein, prestigious university donations represent "a trade: respectability for money".

But when Harvard debates whether to remove the Sackler name from its art museum or MIT agonizes over anonymous donations, they're engaging in a moral calculus that HBCUs can't even access. HBCUs are vastly underfunded as a result of racial politics and the general lack of support received from the federal government.

Four states underfunded HBCUs by between $1.1 billion and $2.1 billion over the last three decades, while HBCUs in 12 other states were underfunded by $172 million to $852.6 million. When you're owed billions in systematic underfunding, the luxury of moral selectivity becomes almost obscene.

The Structural Inequality of Ethics

Here's the uncomfortable truth: The ability to reject money on ethical grounds is itself a privilege that reflects existing inequalities.

Enrollment at Saint Augustine's has dropped precipitously, and the school faces potential loss of accreditation, meaning students would no longer have access to federal financial aid. When an HBCU faces closure, it's not just the institution that suffers—it's the students, 73% of whom receive Pell Grants compared to 36% of non-HBCU students.

Elite universities can afford elaborate vetting committees and gift acceptance policies. Harvard's Gift Policy Committee, chaired by the provost and made up of faculty members and administrators, reviews controversial donations—but the university has declined to make its gift policy publicly available.

Meanwhile, HBCU administrators describe a shared "culture of concern" as they consider what their budgets may look like with less or no federal funding. They're not debating the finer points of donor ethics in committee meetings. They're trying to figure out how to pay faculty and maintain dormitories.

The Impossible Burden

The irony is painful: The institutions that have historically served the most vulnerable students—students who are disproportionately low-income and dependent on federal aid—are the ones least equipped to reject problematic funding sources.

The Trump administration announced it would send almost $500 million to HBCUs and Tribal colleges, funded mainly by cuts to programs and grants that specifically aid minority students. When funding comes with strings attached or questionable origins, what choice do institutions have when the alternative is closing their doors?

Morgan State University had to cancel a field trip for K-12 students after the Department of Defense terminated a $450,000 contract as part of anti-DEI directives. These aren't abstract ethical debates—they're programs canceled, students turned away, opportunities lost.

Two Standards, One System

When MIT accepted Epstein's money while claiming to refuse his donations by marking them anonymous, critics called it "a murky middle path" that simply shielded MIT from public scrutiny. The university had the resources to engage in elaborate ethical gymnastics.

HBCUs don't have that option. They can't afford to be selective, they can't afford elaborate vetting processes, and they certainly can't afford to donate away controversial gifts to make symbolic gestures.

The question isn't whether HBCUs would reject problematic donors if they could—it's whether they can survive long enough to ever have that choice.

The Real Scandal

While media attention focuses on whether Harvard will remove the Sackler name from its museum or MIT will tighten its gift acceptance policies, the real scandal goes largely unreported: a funding gap so vast that all 102 HBCU endowments combined equal less than one elite university's endowment.

HBCU leaders hope that federal executive orders supporting their institutions signal better times ahead, but many can ill afford a financial hit while all kinds of higher education institutions face federal grant cuts.

The debate over controversial donations reveals an uncomfortable truth about American higher education: We've created a two-tier system where some institutions can afford principles while others struggle for survival. Elite universities get to agonize publicly over donor ethics while HBCUs scramble to meet payroll.

Beyond Hypocrisy

This isn't about accusing elite institutions of hypocrisy for returning controversial donations. It's about recognizing that the ability to do so is itself a product of profound inequality.

The Biden administration allocated over $17 billion to HBCUs since 2021, and Congress passed legislation providing $250 million in annual, permanent federal funding. But even robust recent investments can't undo decades of systematic underfunding.

When we criticize universities for accepting tainted money, we need to ask a more fundamental question: Why have we created a system where some institutions are so desperate that they can't afford to say no?

The real ethical failure isn't that some universities accept controversial donations—it's that we've built a higher education system where survival itself depends on compromises that wealthier institutions never have to make.

As elite universities debate the nuances of donor vetting and gift acceptance policies, HBCUs are fighting for their very existence. That's not a difference in values—it's a difference in options. And until we address the systematic inequalities that created this disparity, we have no right to judge institutions that are simply trying to survive.

Editor's Note: University Herald reached out to multiple HBCUs for comment on funding challenges and donor vetting policies. Several administrators spoke on condition of anonymity, citing concerns about jeopardizing potential funding sources. This in itself speaks volumes about the impossible position these institutions occupy.