{"id":1013,"date":"2026-09-28T22:09:11","date_gmt":"2026-09-28T22:09:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/davidtrend.com\/?p=1013"},"modified":"2026-09-28T23:34:42","modified_gmt":"2026-09-28T23:34:42","slug":"the-depressive-university","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/davidtrend.com\/?p=1013","title":{"rendered":"The Depressive University"},"content":{"rendered":"

Universities have gotten really good at creating distress. This isn’t because they lack good intentions or that students have gotten more fragile. Higher education is mired in systems draining energy from learners, amid constant competition and loss of purpose, while the institution itself loses credibility in a growing climate of uncertainly.\u00a0\u00a0It asks learners to commit themselves fully without any assurance that degrees will pay off. Faculty try to furnish inspiration while facing scandals and ideological strife. Administrators live with scarcity and division. The result is less a state of exhaustion than a lingering organizational mood, an existential decline into depression at every level of campus life.<\/p>\n

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One way to understand this dynamic comes from social theory viewing depression not simply as an individual defect, but rather a collective response to environments that deplete desire. The book Quit Everything<\/em>\u00a0by\u00a0Franco “Bifo” Bernardi\u00a0frames\u00a0depression\u00a0as a cultural condition rather than a personal pathology, a generalized reaction to a climate demanding relentless performance without emotional sustenance, security, or a sense of meaning.[i]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0In this context\u00a0depression\u00a0is\u00a0more than mere sadness. It’s the\u00a0failure\u00a0to\u00a0believe\u00a0that\u00a0one’s efforts\u00a0will lead\u00a0to something worthwhile.\u00a0When\u00a0environments\u00a0ask\u00a0for ever more\u00a0productivity and resilience while\u00a0providing less\u00a0stability and compassion in\u00a0return,\u00a0withdrawing is\u00a0a reasonable reaction.<\/p>\n

It’s\u00a0also\u00a0why disengagement\u00a0can’t simply\u00a0be\u00a0defined as a\u00a0lack of\u00a0motivation\u00a0or commitment. It also can signal a simple refusal to invest psychic energy.\u00a0When\u00a0learning environments\u00a0are operating more like\u00a0pressure cookers thancollaborative\u00a0spaces,\u00a0withdrawing begins to make sense as a form of self-care. Not that this happens the same way in every student. Learners in the throes of economic precarity, racial injustice, immigration threat, or caregiving obligation can face a state of existential exhaustion Bernardi equates to “breathlessness.”[ii]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0\u00a0More than a figure of speech, affective breathlessness is a direct outcome of the lived experience of capitalism today.\u00a0\u00a0As time compresses and demands never stop, bodies respond with anxiety and stress. Breathing weakens. Thinking slows. Systems begin to shut down. Learning on empty results.\u00a0Breathlessness persists as depression\u00a0spreads throughout\u00a0populations, even when individuals\u00a0are alone.\u00a0Faculty feel it in professional disillusionment. Staff feel it when obliged to do more. Learners feel it as they look to the future.\u00a0\u00a0The ensemble is more a condition than a namable event, manifest in a constriction of hope and possibility.<\/p>\n

Diagnosis isn’t enough. Naming the depressive university is a good start, but consciousness-raising alone won’t change very much. What follows moves the focus beyond student coping and into domains of policy, programs, and institutional design. How do these various elements create affective climates on college and university campuses? In what ways can “inclusion” become something tangible (rather than performative) at the level of lived experience?\u00a0\u00a0What will move universities to see emotional well-being as a universal need rather than a peripheral add-on?<\/p>\n

The task ahead is bigger than student resilience. It’s about fostering capacities to sustain the will to learn.\u00a0\u00a0The question is how universities can keep desire alive. Creating more supportive environments for both learners and employees does not mean removing challenges. It entails distinctions between when a student is being challenged enough to grow versus simply overwhelmed. It also takes looking seriously at the psychological environment of a campus and acting to ensure that learning feels sustainable. This is not to say depression should be seen as an end-point. It’s a message. And if universities are interested in hearing that message, depression has a vital role to play as a catalyst for positive change.<\/p>\n

Bureaucracy rarely announces itself as emotional, yet it is among the most deeply felt forces on campus.\u00a0While university\u00a0policy may present itself in a bland\u00a0language of neutrality, it often generates unintended consequences as students and faculty encounter it.\u00a0Generic\u00a0forms, deadlines, warnings, and automated messages\u00a0send out quiet\u00a0but\u00a0powerful signals making students feel welcomed,\u00a0but also observed.\u00a0Academic bureaucracies do more than manage administrative\u00a0details.\u00a0They shape how college feels to learners over time. This isn’t to say that distress comes from mistreatment or\u00a0cruelty. It’s more a matter of indifference. Policies are meant to regulate rather than listen. They maintain order rather than trust. When student needs fall outside of norms, systems treat them as disruptions rather than necessities. Learners with the luxury of flexibility experience such frictions as annoying but still manageable.\u00a0\u00a0But those living with tenuous finances, immigration vulnerability, or learning differences may find them oppressive. A “registration hold” becomes a cause for panic. A missed deadline a moral failure. As these interactions accumulate over time, they generate latent watchfulness and even fear.<\/p>\n

Syllabi are among the worst ways bureaucracy is felt. Faculty generally see them as informational documents about a course. But for learners a syllabus can feel like an assault. Hostile listings of requirements and penalties tell what is expected from day one.\u00a0Third-person address objectifies in phrasing like “Students will read” or “Students will learn.” All too often, syllabi frame courses though\u00a0a deficit view,\u00a0assuming learners will fail\u00a0if left their own devices.\u00a0To\u00a0studentsunsure if\u00a0they belong in\u00a0college, the tone of a syllabus can confirm their worst fears.<\/p>\n

On balance, most faculty don’t realize their messaging can do this.\u00a0\u00a0Many see it simply as “structure” to keep students in line. Some may be exhausted from constant questions,\u00a0poor attendance, or late assignments. Others view it as self-protection. But the end result can be a\u00a0syllabus functioning\u00a0less as a\u00a0welcome mat, and more like a\u00a0legal agreement. Whatever the\u00a0intent, research\u00a0shows that when students see such lists of\u00a0rules\u00a0and\u00a0regulations,\u00a0they\u00a0read them\u00a0as\u00a0lackof\u00a0concern\u00a0or\u00a0care.\u00a0\u00a0These negative affects are unevenly distributed.\u00a0Students familiar with academic\u00a0cultures know what to expect. First gen\u00a0students\u00a0might not. Students needing disability accommodations may think they’ll be seen as burdens. International students feel particularly jittery these days. All of these background feelings are worsened by a harsh syllabus.\u00a0Seen in these terms, bureaucracy and pedagogy\u00a0intersect in unpredictable ways.\u00a0\u00a0Administrative tone,\u00a0policy language, and\u00a0course\u00a0design all\u00a0contribute to\u00a0the emotional\u00a0environment\u00a0of learning. When courses\u00a0resort todeterrents\u00a0and one-size-fits-all instruction,\u00a0they generate emptiness rather than\u00a0engagement. Students react accordingly, answering carefully, complying whenever possible, and generally internalizing the panoptic gaze. But don’t confuse this with apathy. Learners\u00a0are responding rationally to\u00a0systems\u00a0presenting as rigid\u00a0and\u00a0intimidating.<\/p>\n

Other tiny details can make a big difference.\u00a0Several\u00a0years ago,\u00a0I started sending email reminders of assignment due dates for a large online course.\u00a0As the term went along, I began to worry\u00a0I was\u00a0coddling\u00a0the students or bugging them too much. But I kept up the reminders anyway,\u00a0at times\u00a0up to three\u00a0a\u00a0week. When student evaluations arrived at the end of term,\u00a0I got quite a surprise. Over and over again, learners\u00a0thanked me, commented how thoughtful they felt the gesture was,\u00a0\u00a0and how much I “cared” for them.\u00a0This made apparent\u00a0to\u00a0me just how much\u00a0small\u00a0purely functional gestures can\u00a0influence\u00a0the\u00a0affective reception\u00a0of a\u00a0course.<\/p>\n

Flexibility\u00a0matters too,\u00a0especially now.\u00a0Policies allowing absences, flexible\u00a0deadlines, or make up assignments\u00a0are especially helpful for distressed or trauma-affected students.[iii]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0\u00a0This can help\u00a0learners\u00a0manage\u00a0if\u00a0they are struggling to keep up with their lives.\u00a0When\u00a0instructors explain\u00a0why a course element works as it does or where leeway exists, it’s\u00a0seen by students as\u00a0support. Gestures like choosing a no-cost or low-cost\u00a0textbook show awareness\u00a0of\u00a0economic need. Such measures don’t mean less rigor.\u00a0They reflect the simple reality that students do better when they’re less burdened by outside pressures.\u00a0And yes, some\u00a0faculty resist these methods\u00a0for\u00a0fear they’ll\u00a0invite\u00a0chaos or short cutting.\u00a0But\u00a0those who\u00a0exercise\u00a0tolerance\u00a0quickly\u00a0find\u00a0that treating students as responsible adults pays off in the long run.<\/p>\n

Campus communications also carry affective weight. As with syllabi, universities can construct\u00a0students as bureaucratic objects rather than subjects. As a former college dean, I can attest that this disconnect rarely stems from malicious intent. It often emerges from campus offices overwhelmed by demands and diminishing resources. It’s an open secret that fewer people want to work at universities these days, with the higher ed press filled with reports of leaders fleeing the profession. Structurally positioned as the institutional bearers of bad economic news, college and university administrators have become the public face of a system falling apart.\u00a0One only needs to scan the contents of industry publications like the\u00a0Chronicle of Higher Education<\/em>\u00a0to witness the scope of professional despair.<\/p>\n

And of course, such bad news for higher education seems everywhere. Right now it’s hard to imagine any college demographic not riven with disillusionment. Needed now are ways to rediscover purpose and hope going forward. It’s also worth stating that the foundational purposes of higher education really haven’t changed or gone away.\u00a0\u00a0Learners continue to seek an understanding of the world, as well as their role within it. They want meaningful work and a happy life. Most want to build connections with others and give back to their communities.\u00a0\u00a0Thousands of students have told me so.\u00a0And none of this is to deny the idealistic efforts of committed faculty and administrators throughout the field.\u00a0\u00a0Nor are these troubles occurring to the same degree on every campus.<\/p>\n

It’s time to reinvest in higher education as a utopian project, and in doing so to recognize that flaws do not mean failure. Acknowledging problems can make institutions better. Most\u00a0professors truly want\u00a0to\u00a0help their\u00a0students, but they often get hamstrung by systems that can’t keep up with changing needs. The biggest issue now facing faculty is the challenge of maintaining programmatic integrity in a climate of declining enrollment and less money. Add to this the coming “demographic cliff’ of the college-age population, which will reduce student numbers by 15 percent over the next decade.[iv]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0\u00a0Seen in this light, the fuss about useless degrees may solve itself, since fewer students will mean fewer college graduates. Already the discourse of higher education has shifted from pro-growth to sober plans for streamlining, consolidation, and “rightsizing.”\u00a0\u00a0The harsh reality is that colleges and universities face reductions in courses and related staffing, even as some pivot to non-degree programs and more reliance on research money. As\u00a0fiscal crises challengethe\u00a0existing internal dynamics\u00a0of\u00a0higher\u00a0education the\u00a0urgency\u00a0of\u00a0transformation grows exponentially.<\/p>\n

\n

[i]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Franco Bernardi,\u00a0Quit Everything: Interpreting Depression (<\/em>London: Repeater 2024).<\/p>\n

[ii]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Franco Bernardi,\u00a0Breathing: Chaos and Poetry<\/em>\u00a0(South Pasadena, CA: Semiotext(e) 2018).<\/p>\n

[iii]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Mays Imad, “Leveraging the Neuroscience of Now,”\u00a0Inside Higher Ed<\/em>, June 3, 2020,\u00a0https:\/\/www.insidehighered.com\/advice\/2020\/06\/03\/seven-recommendations-helping-students-thrive-times-trauma.<\/p>\n

[iv]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0Jon Marcus, ” A looming ‘demographic cliff’: Fewer college students and ultimately fewer graduates” NPR, Jan. 8, 2025, https:\/\/www.npr.org\/2025\/01\/08\/nx-s1-5246200\/demographic-cliff-fewer-college-students-mean-fewer-graduates.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Universities have gotten really good at creating distress. This isn’t because they lack good intentions or that students have gotten more fragile. Higher education is mired in systems draining energy from learners, amid constant competition and loss of purpose, while the institution itself loses credibility in a growing climate of uncertainly.\u00a0\u00a0It asks learners to commit … <\/p>\n

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