Trump and the university: this is just the beginning
My campus has changed quite a bit since Ron DeSantis set a goal of eliminating the ideology three years ago.wokefrom Florida universities. Suddenly, professors began to struggle with what they could say and teach. Some began to avoid terms like racismA student recently told me that if someone says intersectional In class, the professor asks him not to use this word.
Perhaps soon the same thing will happen at every college in the country. We've all heard stories of elite institutions cowering in the face of Trump's assault on higher education. From someone who knows what he's talking about: things could get much, much worse.
Trump has observed what happened in Florida. The architect of Project 2025's education policies—designed by the ultra-conservative Heritage Foundation—claims that Florida "leads the way" for university reforms. Trump has already threatened to withdraw funding from universities that don't purge their language of everything he considers woke. He has demanded that specific departments of regional studies be re-monitored. He has also demanded that the same experience be expected at other universities.
Before DeSantis put higher education in the spotlight, Florida teachers could trust that the administration would support our professional judgment about what we should teach our students. We had open and complex discussions without fearing for our careers. In one conversation in one of my classes, female students expressed their fear of boys' catcalling, and their male classmates gave them a thoughtful response, reflecting on their behavior—an enlightening experience for all. It seems to me that today, such a conversation would violate a Florida law that prohibits teaching male students that they should feel guilty for the actions of other men.
Since DeSantis's crackdown, I've seen colleagues harassed and investigated for addressing current issues, even outside the classroom. This climate of fear is precisely the outcome the administration is seeking. Both the administration and faculty practice preemptive obedience to prevent the slightest hint of wokism, which stifles the kind of open and civil discussions that help students form their opinions.
One colleague told me she has stopped assigning papers on lynching and white evangelicalism for fear that these terms would set off red flags. Another told me that she engaged in self-censorship not only in class and on campus, but also on her social media.
Some professors have been stopped from cheating. Last year, a man posing as a student tried to incite Muslim professors to criticize DeSantis and Israel. I suffered a similar incident. In October 2024, my department head called me into his office to tell me that a purported student in my religion and science class had complained that I had talked for 20 minutes about specific candidates, as well as who I voted for and why. I was stunned. This had never happened to me before, not in that class or any other; it's antithetical to my teaching style. Fortunately, the dean assured me that a single unsubstantiated accusation wasn't grounds for disciplinary action.
That accusation shook the trust I thought I had in my students, and that was far worse than the fear of the investigation. Did any of them hate me so much that they would lie to get me into trouble? In the end, I am convinced that the person who filed the complaint was not a student in my class, but a provocateur. (Surely it was no coincidence that the complaint came shortly after my name appeared in an article in Political about the changes on our campus.)
That incident shattered my conviction that if I did my job well and followed the rules, I would be safe. For more than thirty years at the University of Florida, I've taught thousands of students, written hundreds of letters of recommendation, and advised countless research projects. I've published a dozen books and scores of articles, won research and teaching awards, and served on numerous university committees. But the state doesn't trust me or my work. How can I encourage my students to ask difficult questions, to keep inquiring regardless of the outcome, when I worry about what might happen to me if I did it myself? And how can I follow the rules if even the university administration isn't always sure how they should interpret them?
Teaching is, above all, about creating a classroom community, a web of trust and curiosity that unites students and faculty in a shared intellectual project. Distrust, fear, and self-censorship make this project impossible.
In the wake of Trump's recent measures, the campus atmosphere has become more tense. His orders threaten not only the humanities and social sciences, but also STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) research funding. And while immigration agents detain and deport foreign students, non-U.S. students on campus (and even some naturalized U.S. citizens) are putting their heads in even higher jeopardy.
Like DeSantis and Richard Nixon before him, Trump and Vice President J.D. Vance believe that teachers are the enemy. They want ordinary Americans to distrust college professors, to see us as bigoted militants driven only by political ideology.
Teaching college students has been the greatest gift of my professional life. I love my university and my students, and I do a good job. I have no interest in indoctrinating anyone. And the same can be said for my colleagues.
To all of you who think teachers are the enemy, I invite you to spend some time in our classrooms. Perhaps you will discover that, after all, we are all on the same side.
Copyright The New York Times
