The New Deal rested on a foundational belief: that the federal government could be a force for collective uplift. In the shadow of economic collapse and mass unemployment, the Roosevelt administration mobilized state resources to create jobs, reform capitalism, and restore public confidence. Public education—including the university—was part of that vision.
The Higher Education Act of 1965, influenced by the New Deal ethos, vastly expanded federal support for public colleges and student aid. By the early 1970s, nearly 75 percent of college students attended public institutions, with tuition at flagship universities often below $1,000 per year (roughly $7,000 in today’s dollars). Pell Grants could cover most, if not all, of a low-income student’s tuition, room, and board. The GI Bill had already lifted millions into the middle class. State legislatures invested heavily in public universities, seeing them as engines of democratic growth and regional development.
But this consensus began to unravel with the rise of neoliberalism and libertarian ideology in the 1970s and 1980s. Thinkers like Milton Friedman and organizations like the Cato Institute and Heritage Foundation argued that the state was inherently inefficient, that markets should govern most aspects of life, and that individuals—not governments—were responsible for their outcomes. Reagan declared that “government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem,” and higher education funding soon became a target.
State appropriations for public colleges as a share of university revenue declined dramatically. In 1980, public funding made up about 75 percent of the operating costs of state universities. By 2020, it had fallen below 25 percent. Students and their families made up the difference, mostly through debt. Between 1995 and 2023, average tuition at public four-year colleges tripled, even after adjusting for inflation. Total student loan debt exploded, surpassing $1.7 trillion by 2024, burdening more than 45 million Americans. The average debt per borrower was more than $38,000.
This wasn’t merely an economic shift—it was an ideological one. Higher education was no longer understood as a public good but as a private investment. Students were told to “shop” for degrees like they would consumer goods, choosing programs based not on curiosity or civic purpose but on return on investment. The university was transformed from a site of public inquiry to a marketplace. Faculty governance was weakened. Shared governance gave way to corporate-style management. Instruction was outsourced to contingent faculty, 70 percent of whom now teach off the tenure track. Adjunct professors, often paid less than $3,500 per course, frequently live below the poverty line and qualify for public assistance.
Trumpism emerged from this late-capitalist malaise but redirected its anger. Instead of questioning the privatization of education, it turned public resentment against institutions of learning themselves. Universities were portrayed as hostile, elitist, and corrupt—agents of indoctrination rather than enlightenment. The Trump administration’s policies followed this rhetoric. Betsy DeVos, a billionaire with no experience in public education, oversaw aggressive deregulation of for-profit colleges, attempted to eliminate gainful employment rules, and delayed or blocked borrower defense claims from defrauded students.
Even after Trump left office, his political movement sustained an aggressive campaign against public education. Under Project 2025, a policy blueprint promoted by the Heritage Foundation and embraced by Trump’s allies, universities are targeted for ideological control. The plan calls for defunding departments deemed “woke,” ending diversity and inclusion programs, and purging federal agencies—including the Department of Education—of those who challenge the political orthodoxy.
In Florida, under Governor Ron DeSantis, this agenda was made real. The New College of Florida, once a respected liberal arts institution, was taken over by political appointees who dismantled its academic programs, removed professors, and imposed a conservative curriculum. Across red states, tenure is under attack, academic freedom is shrinking, and LGBTQ+ students and faculty are being driven out or silenced.
The ideology driving this assault is not consistent libertarianism—it’s an incoherent blend of market fundamentalism, Christian nationalism, and authoritarian populism. It pretends to value freedom but enforces conformity. It invokes personal responsibility while shielding the powerful from consequence. It lauds meritocracy even as it strips away the conditions for anyone outside the elite to succeed.
Underlying all of this is a distorted form of individualism. The student is no longer part of a learning community—they are a solitary debtor. Faculty are no longer public servants—they are expendable contractors. The public university is no longer a site of shared knowledge or democratic imagination—it is a hollowed-out brand, increasingly indistinguishable from the for-profit sector.
Even the language of crisis has lost its power. We no longer speak of austerity or retrenchment—we have normalized decline. College closures are expected. Student defaults are routine. A generation of graduates has never known a university that wasn’t precarious, transactional, and shaped by fear.
To move forward, we must confront not just the political project of Trumpism but the longer neoliberal arc that made it possible. That means rejecting the lie that education is only valuable when it is profitable. It means refusing the narrative that students in debt deserve their suffering. And it means restoring the idea that knowledge—and the institutions that sustain it—are worth defending not just for individuals, but for the society we want to live in.
The public university was never perfect, but it was once animated by a different moral vision. Reclaiming that vision is not nostalgic—it is necessary. If we fail, we consign ourselves to a future of narcissistic consumerism, epistemic decay, and civic disintegration.
Sources and Data
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U.S. Department of Education, National Center for Education Statistics (NCES): College Tuition Trends
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Congressional Budget Office (CBO): Student Loan Debt Projections, 2024
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The Century Foundation: “The State of Adjunct Faculty,” 2022
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National Association of College and University Business Officers (NACUBO): “State Funding vs. Tuition Revenue, 1980–2020”
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Project on Predatory Student Lending: Legal challenges to Trump-era ED policies
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Heritage Foundation, “Mandate for Leadership: Project 2025”
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Florida Department of Education and New College public records, 2023–2024
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Inside Higher Ed, “Contingent Faculty and the Collapse of Tenure,” March 2024
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The New Deal and Higher Education, John R. Thelin, A History of American Higher Education
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Barkan, Joanne. Merchants of Debt: How the Student Loan Industry Became a Power Broker
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