‘It’s the Economy, Stupid’

The writer is a current president.

Your recent piece on university presidents’ silence struck a chord with me. In this charged climate, most university presidents have chosen silence—not out of indifference but as a strategic retreat in a landscape where every word risks inviting harsh political and financial backlash for themselves and the institutions they lead. 

The power of their silence is tangible: It is a statement of their deep commitment to protecting their university missions, the students and employees they support, and the professions and markets for whom they are building the workforce. Their quiet stance underscores the immense challenge of leading institutions as vital to free thought as they are to local and national economic progress.

Silence cannot, however, combat the ever-growing crisis of confidence in higher education. The skepticism is real, and as presidents, we can and do speak to each and every issue raised by critics. Yet, this crisis demands that we reframe the conversation. 

Higher education is not a luxury or an ideological playground—it is a powerful engine of economic growth and workforce development. The narrative should not be framed as either-or: Either we educate students to think critically and be engaged citizens, or we train them for careers. We do both. We always have. 

And in a modern economy driven by innovation, adaptability, and knowledge, we must continue to do both. Critical thinking is what allows individuals to compete, innovate, and lead in a dynamic market. Like it or not, capitalism is the water we all swim in, and the ability to thrive in it requires a robust education that fosters both intellectual depth and real-world readiness.

We are at risk of weakening our country’s competitive edge. A robust education system means skilled workers, job creation, and strong economic growth—values that resonate with anyone who believes in the strength of our free markets.

What is at risk is not an academic issue alone; it is a matter of fiscal prudence and sound economic policy. An entire generation will face a future of fewer job opportunities, certainly at the professional career level, and, tragic as this is, it will additively ensure a slower-growing economy. The math is simple: Fewer students accessing higher education means fewer engineers, doctors, mental and behavioral health experts, teachers, and business leaders. This means fewer skilled workers to meet the needs of emerging industries and the communities within which they are anchored. It means fewer entrepreneurs launching new ventures. It means that America is less competitive on the global stage.

The truth is, we are already delivering on the very priorities critics claim to champion: economic mobility, job readiness, and national competitiveness. We can—and must—articulate how universities are the backbone of a thriving economy, using the very metrics policymakers and business leaders claim to value. 

And we must do so without retreating from the other essential elements of our mission, including our commitment to DEI. Because diversity, equity, and inclusion are not separate from economic strength—they are integral to it. The most successful economies are those that leverage the full talents of their population, breaking down barriers and expanding opportunities for all.

Higher education is not the problem. It is the solution. And it’s time we make that clear—not just in words, but in framing the argument around what matters most to those in power: the economy. 

So many of us have launched financial education programs and financial aid programs that reduce net costs for students and significantly increased scholarships to make education more affordable. We have also enhanced career services programs and are continuously building strong industry partnerships to prepare students for today’s job market. 

Equally important, we must push out the economic data that consistently highlights the value of earning a degree, particularly at the graduate level, not just for personal growth and prosperity but also for contributing to workforce and economic development.

The writer is a current president.

Often, I’m the only person in a meeting who has actually lived in a dictatorship. Folks just haven’t experienced what authoritarian rule is. That got me to thinking. Observing the current landscape as a public university president, I offer a few observations below (in the mode of Jeff Foxworthy’s You Might Be a Redneck If …).

You might be living under authoritarian rule if … Carefully crafted and time-consuming business plans can go out the window literally overnight in an authoritarian environment, where decisions can be driven more by political and personal whims. Capping, say, indirect costs charged to grants at 15 percent, when the working norm has been 40 percent or more. No discussions. No conversations or consultations. No notice.

You might be living under authoritarian rule if … Meritocracy gives way to personal, ideological and even familial ties in terms of who is chosen to lead a public university. When the selection of politicians and their associates as public university presidents becomes the norm rather than the exception, you can suspect authoritarian rule is at play, especially if those selected have little or no higher education experience.

You might be living under authoritarian rule if... Loyalty is demonstrated by never criticizing or challenging the statements, plans, and actions of the authoritarian ruler, either in public or in private. People are fired and quickly rehired because vital tasks can’t be completed. Governance decisions, such as trustee appointments, are driven by loyalty to the leader. Academic programs are axed and new centers are created based on the preferences of the autocratic leader, often over the objections of senior university leadership and faculty.

So what to do if you are living under such conditions? Honestly, there’s probably not much current presidents can do, and certainly not at public institutions. After all, your bosses are—wait for it—part of the authoritarian caste. Current and retired private university presidents calling for public pronouncements seem to ignore this important fact.

For sure, you can resign, and perhaps you should, but don’t expect that action to alter the course of history. One possible exception might be if public university leaders in a state resigned en masse.

After all, the last 100 years have seen numerous dictatorships emerge, many of them murderous, and in those instances there were no doubt many university presidents far more competent, smarter, more charismatic and convincing than we are, and they did not succeed in the stopping the rise of authoritarian rule.

Instead, you can keep doing your job. You can, within the scope of the law, stress belonging and ease difficulties generated by authoritarian acts.

Many years ago I spoke to the leader of an institution in a country beset by civil war for more than a decade. Their campus was located between blocks of high-rise buildings taken over by rival factions, who then traded missile salvos across the campus. “What did you do in those days? How did you lead?” I asked. His answer: “We did what we could, we controlled what we could control, we became adept at improvising, and we tried to keep everyone safe.”