Let's say you live in a flat with an awesome, party-ready deck. It costs a bit to maintain, but that’s okay because it’s the right thing to do. People love coming over to party on the deck and it’s totally safe because your landlord pays the maintenance bill. It’s their house, so of course they do.
But a few years ago, your landlord decided to change how that bill was paid. Instead of them paying 100% of the bill, they’ll now only pay a certain amount based on the number of friends that visit the deck. Their logic is that if nobody is using the deck, they shouldn’t have to pay to maintain it. Seems reasonable enough, right?
Then Covid hit. You couldn’t host parties, people stopped coming over, and you were the only one on the deck. And your landlord, abiding by their own rules, stopped paying to maintain the deck since no one was using it. You’re now stuck with paying a massive maintenance bill for someone else’s house or risk losing the entire deck. What do you do?
Well, you have to start selling your assets to pay the bill. Gone are your DJ decks, which helped pay for some support beams. Gone are your massive speakers, which helped pay for screws and joinery. Gone are your party lights, which helped pay for a contractor. You had to sell almost all of your gear to foot the bill and now that the deck is finally stable again, none of your mates want to come over. Since you don’t have decks, speakers, or lights, which was the entire reason they were coming in the first place.
This is what’s happening with the cuts to universities. The government in the ‘80s said that they’d fund universities based on enrollments and, while universities thought enrollments were gonna keep rising, Covid mucked it up. The government said, “Sorry, that’s on you and your poor forecasting!” and the universities had to start selling assets and scrapping courses to save costs. But now that all those cool professors and niche papers are gone, will people still want to come to the party?
Finally, after outcry from partygoers, your landlord said, “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll pay for some of the renovations.” And they paid for half the deck, so now they’re off the hook. Right? Wrong. Because this whole funding system was their idea! When they paid to maintain the deck on their house that they own, everything was fine. People came to the party, you didn’t have to worry about costs, and you had time to focus on what really mattered: vibes and music. But once they shifted that bill onto your shoulders, you didn’t have time to focus on the good stuff. You had to keep focusing on numbers of attendees and competing with neighbouring parties and proving that you deserved funding, and all the while the deck got heavier and heavier.
And then, suddenly but inevitably, the deck collapsed. And somehow it’s your fault. Tell your landlord: pay for your own damn deck.