From Context Magazine http://www.contextmag.com/setFrameRedirect.asp?src=/archives/199806/Feature0digitalcivilization.asp For Discussion and Comment Not since the Wizard of Oz handed the Scarecrow his "Doctor of Thinkology" scroll have college degrees been so easy to come by. For the right price, Internet diploma factories will hand out sheepskins practically overnight. No qualifications necessary. One investigation found that a diploma mill—variously known as the University of San Moritz, the University of Palmers Green, or Harrington University—didn’t ask questions when paid to grant a master’s degree and a doctorate to a six-month-old basset hound. Nearly 500 of these so-called universities exist, according to John Bear, former consultant to the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s DipScam (diploma scam) task force. He estimates they rake in nearly $250 million in revenue a year. While diploma mills have been around since the 1920s, the Internet has greatly expanded their number. Setting up a fake university is now as easy as building a Web site, and people just have to point and click to buy their bogus credentials. Though people can find legitimate programs, such as the University of Phoenix Online’s distance-learning program, the vast majority of options range from the dreadful to the blatantly fraudulent. Degrees come in nearly every discipline imaginable. One diploma mill, College Services Corp. (www.graduatenow.com), even offers degrees in Amharic (one of the languages spoken in Ethiopia) and offers classes in areas where the public interest would seem to demand real expertise, such as hazardous materials risk management. All it takes to secure a diploma is a bit of money. At College Services, bachelor’s degrees go for $425, master’s degrees cost $550, and a doctorate sets "students" back a scant $800. Those ordering all three get a more than $300 discount off the total. (In a bit of irony, College Services tells applicants it won’t specify which university name will be on their diplomas until after they pay their money, because it needs to protect "the integrity" of the names.) For $75 more, College Services will print on the degree that the holder graduated summa cum laude. (College Services did not return calls seeking comment.) Diploma mills also provide services that make it harder for employers to find out that the degrees are bogus. College Services will, for roughly $400, provide transcripts for eight semesters to back up a claim of an undergraduate degree. Those paying an additional $195 are given a phone number for the school’s "registrar’s office," which can be provided to an employer who wants to call for verification. Even when mills do require that applicants take tests, the exams are just window-dressing, Bear says. He says everyone passes. Marmaduke University, a California mill that was shut down long ago, included this question for its history Ph.D.: The Declaration of Independence was signed by (a) the King of England, (b) American patriots, (c) Franklin D. Roosevelt, (d) All of the above. To give themselves the appearance of having credentials, the mills have formed more than 100 fake accreditation agencies, says Michael Lambert, executive director of the Distance Education and Training Council, a not-for-profit education association. "It’s the Wild West out there," he says. Diploma mills typically justify their degrees by saying they recognize what people have learned through experience, which is at least as valuable as what they might learn in a college classroom. Some who purchase the degrees agree. For one, Johnny Roberts, police chief in Fayetteville, Ga., expressed great surprise when a local paper said the degree he bought wasn’t legitimate. The degree came from Columbia State University, which was located in a small office in Louisiana and was eventually shut down by authorities. But Roberts told the paper that "if I had any idea that [the school] was anything but legitimate, I wouldn’t have done it." Still, ads from questionable schools seem to offer a clear view of what the degrees are all about. A Century University ad in the Economist promises: "B.S., M.S., Ph.D. Many fields. No classes." Eldon Johnson, dean of admissions and instruction at Century University, insists the school has a "rigorous program requiring a series of courses over two years including a final project, thesis, or dissertation." For its part, the Economist distances itself from the schools that place advertisements by running a notice advising people to take precautions when responding to its classified ads. "If we receive complaints about a specific ad we look into it," says Edward Burness, the magazine’s classified advertising director. "We cannot be an accreditation agency." Those who do respond to the ads are mostly people who desperately need a degree to get a promotion or to keep a job, says Kristin Hirst, an expert on online learning at About.com Inc. (www.about.com), a Web-based information source. With degrees from questionable schools, what matters most is that the employer thinks it’s legitimate. Employers do sometimes sniff out fraud. Gary Stocco, of New Jersey, was caught after using his degrees from the University of San Moritz to earn money as an expert witness on burns. Stocco spent two months in jail and was put on probation for 10 years. His attorney, David Schertler, describes Stocco as "a good man who made a mistake in judgment." Sting operations can sometimes even shut a mill or fake accreditation agency down—at least for a time. Missouri’s assistant attorney general, Eric Vieth, scored a hit when he set up Eastern Missouri Business College and listed as faculty Arnold Ziffel, Eddie Haskell, and M. Howard and Lawrence Fine. The investigator requested a stamp of approval from the "Accrediting Commission International" and quickly received it. What the "commissioners" overlooked is that Ziffel was the pig on Green Acres, that Haskell was a character on Leave It to Beaver, and that Howard and Fine were two of the Three Stooges. The agency also didn’t think much about the business college’s seal, which carried the phrase, "Solum Pro Avibus Est Educatio." Translated from Latin, this means: "Education is for the birds." The investigator chased the agency out of the state. But it then set up shop across the border under a slightly different name, showing just how hard it is to shut a mill or fake accreditation agency down for good. Bear says that Shelbourne University, which he describes as one of the biggest scams going, shows the lengths that mills will go to in order to protect themselves. (Shelbourne didn’t return calls seeking comment.) According to Bear, Shelbourne is "owned by an American, uses a British mail drop, does telemarketing in Romania, printing in Jerusalem, and banking in Cyprus. Who can track these people down?" Cooper, a free-lance writer based in Santa Barbara, Calif., is also an instructor at University of California, Santa Barbara’s International Programs, where he enjoys helping his students work toward getting “real” university degrees. He can be reached at [email protected].
As a former student of UOP, I can say they fit well into the description of "dreadful to the blatantly fraudulent..." My instructor seemingly spent more time on matters concerning their accredidation (and keeping it) than they did actual material. The McDonald's of Education. I'm a vegetarian. Regards, Christian
