twisting of the system

By Noah Jalango

I graduated from Lehigh University in 2021 – a time when we prematurely congratulated ourselves for beating the pandemic before realizing the road to quasi-normality remained long. During the pandemic, the Biden administration implemented a pause on student loan repayments and interest. This was great for me, because I had no idea what industry or field I wanted to work in.

When I found an apartment and began my first job in “the real world” later that year (a barista at Barnes & Noble), the pause on repayments meant I could shove my student loan anxieties to the back of my mind for a while.

By the time the pause ended last fall, I had been working for the better part of a year as a freelance writer and editor. I enjoyed this work much more than I had at the bookstore, but I was even more financially insecure – there were no guarantees about where or when my next gig would come. And despite the dozens of job applications I sent out each month, there seemed even less insurance regarding long-term work. Freelancing was a risk I was willing to take, but it was also very complicated by the appearance of a certain subject line in my inbox:

“Your student loan billing statement is now available.”

In a flash, those student loan anxieties emerged from the deep recesses of my psyche.

A few months ago, I stumbled across news of a bill proposal that – with my own recent student loan experiences fresh in my thoughts – made my stomach turn. The proposed bill is called the No Bailouts for Campus Criminals Act. Very ominous. Proposed and backed by a number of Republican senators across the United States, the bill states “an individual who is convicted of any offense under any Federal or State law related to the individual’s conduct at and during the course of a protest that occurs at an institution of higher education shall be ineligible for forgiveness, cancelation, waiver, or modification of certain Federal student loans.” In life, I find there are very few coincidences, and the timing of this bill’s proposal was not one of them.

This spring, an outbreak in student protests (continuing from 2023) condemning Israel’s actions in Gaza spread across colleges and universities throughout the country – most notably in response to the mass arrests of student protestors by police at Columbia University. On April 17, students at Columbia established an on-campus encampment in support of the people in Gaza. Columbia President Minouche Shafik quickly authorized the NYPD to enter the campus, a move soon followed by the destruction of the encampment and arrests of student protestors. Students at Columbia were not deterred, and they moved swiftly to establish a second “Gaza Solidarity Encampment” on the lawn adjacent to the original.

In the following weeks, students and faculty alike shared their discontent with the university’s management of the protests, and students continued to demand that Columbia divest from Israel-affiliated companies like Amazon, Google, and Lockheed Martin. After protestors and heads of the university could not come to an agreement in negotiation talks, a number of students occupied Hamilton Hall, an academic building, and a heavy police presence arrived near the scene. The university, first threatening those occupying the building with expulsion, again authorized the NYPD to enter campus. The police entered the building with their weapons drawn and used flash-bang grenades upon entry. More mass arrests followed.

Nearly 3,000 students at over 50 American colleges and universities have been arrested since the initial arrests at Columbia in April. Many have also faced suspension, expulsion, and even the withholding of diplomas. Of course, clashes with police and disagreements with university higher-ups are not new for student protestors. These moments of tension have appeared throughout American history – especially if you look back to some of the student-led protests in the 1960s. Beyond arrests, the threat of having economic resources like financial aid taken away by institutions of higher education as a result of protesting was also very much a reality. The difference between the 60s and today, however, is the impact of leaving school with debt.

Let’s go back to the No Bailouts for Campus Criminals Act for a moment. Not only is it important to note that this bill has been proposed by a group of politicians who are openly and vehemently against these pro-Palestine protests, but it comes amidst a period of American history when both the cost of college tuition and the student debt crisis are at an all-time high. The No Bailouts for Campus Criminals Act is an attempt by these senators to blackmail students into political passivity by threatening them with a future where loan forgiveness is an impossibility. The proposed bill takes full advantage of a student loan system that accounts for over 1.5 TRILLION dollars in multi-generational debt, with the bulk of that debt falling to graduates under the age of 40. The current student loan system is designed to make borrowing as accessible as possible, which may seem a good model – but things quickly become complex.

Flashback to the Higher Education Act of 1965, signed into law by President Lyndon B. Johnson. This act created the Guaranteed Student Loan program (also known as the Federal Family Education Loan Program, later renamed the Stafford Federal Student Loan Program), which was essentially the original student loan program. As the nation began to view higher education as a necessity for all, rather than a luxury for the wealthy – a sentiment that had been building since the introduction of the G.I. Bill in 1944 – an emphasis was placed on easing the financial burden faced by low- and middle-income families. Alongside the Guaranteed Student Loan program, the act created the National Teacher Corps, increased federal funds for colleges and universities, and created a number of scholarships and grants for students with sufficient need.

Over the following decades, a combination of the loosening of both financial needs tests and restrictions on loan deferments, increase of loan limits, easing of access to online loan tools, increase in students attending colleges and universities, and an switch to direct loans contributed to the rapid rise in loan borrowing. It’s also impossible to have this conversation without including at least one reference to President Ronald Reagan and his system of “Reaganomics,” whose decision to slash funding for public education largely contributed to the shift away from grants and toward loans.

Yet, simultaneously, the cost of college tuition skyrocketed, meaning grants covered less and loans became even more necessary to afford higher education. 

OK, OK, I know. That was a lot of information, and I encourage you to do your own reading about the history of student loans in the U.S., because this is truly only the tip of the iceberg. But the point of this mini-history lesson is to emphasize the many tweaks and changes that have transformed the student loan system over the past 70 years or so. What was originally a program created to provide disadvantaged Americans with greater access to higher education has now been weaponized in an attempt to stifle students protesting for a ceasefire in Gaza and accountability from their colleges/universities. In a time when you’re in debt as soon as you step foot on campus and must find a job as soon as you graduate in order to best counteract that debt, using the system to push a misguided agenda and attempt to suppress the voices of thousands is dangerously irresponsible.

Attending college is meant to be a time when you learn, express yourself, problem solve, debate and discuss current events, grow your social skills, and lay the groundwork for your future. While this remains true, the cloud of student loan debt hangs heavily over our heads, with many parties attempting to instigate a downpour. The magnitude of the proposal of the No Bailouts for Campus Criminals Act lies not in its passing or rejection.

But in its twisting of a system built on personal debts. In such systems, as best put in by a 2013 research paper on student protests and university governance, students are forced “to keep their heads down and take whatever work opportunities [they can find] to pay them back, rather than use their glorious time and energy to improve the world.”


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