The death of student politics

And let’s not forget that university is no longer free. Students missing lectures to attend political forums and rallies was once par for the course. Now that the cost of degrees is in some cases, above $200,000, students are thinking twice about skipping class.

The university campus, once a home away from home for many students, is now mostly used by students to attend tutorials and lectures. Instead of lying on the grass discussing, analysing and planning for change, students are now speeding between lectures, tutorials, jobs and the multitude of other considerations - gym sessions; salsa classes; club nights; volunteer positions; housework - which make up the typical student existence.

High fees have the flow-on effect of requiring students to take part and often full-time jobs in order to support themselves. In 2001, the Australian Vice-Chancellors' Committee found that on average, full-time students worked 14.4 hours a week, a figure that has increased more than 300 per cent since the early 1980s. Five years on, with a consumer frenzy engulfing Australia, you can bet students are dedicating an even greater portion of their week to paid employment. And you can start to understand why most students wouldn’t run to a protest for fear of dropping their iPod or scuffing their Louis Vuitton handbag.

It all adds up to a student culture which is vastly different from the one we stereotypically envision.

University students in 2006 are all-ages, all manner of socio-economic backgrounds and all over the place politically.

They come from Africa, Asia, The Americas, Europe and the Middle East. They worry about the future, but mostly in terms of themselves, and are materialistic, spending big on non-essentials like fashion, music and drinking. They work almost as much as they study and they don’t just stay in one place. Student exchange and end-of-year travel mean that today’s students are more globally-minded than ever before.

They through the nose for their education but they all trust the investment is one that will pay off when they one day run their own business or work in a law firm or consult on cancer research. As a result, they are intensely career-focused, and if that means their political ideology occasionally falls to the wayside then that’s just the way it has to be.

The loss of the student politics, which for so long provided a robust opposition to the status quo in this country, is an unhealthy modification of our society. The disengagement of student voices from the broader political discussion reduces crucial diversity in public opinion. Australia’s major political parties, who have been reliant on student politics for so long, will have to look beyond universities as breeding grounds for the next crop of Australian politicians.

Gillard, Beazley, Abbott, Costello and Stott Despoja were all presidents of their student unions and acquired, undoubtedly, a great deal of their political nous from their apprenticeships in student politics. Most importantly, students are going to have to look elsewhere for political awakening.

With the government consistently decreasing its support for universities and the increased reliance of universities on research commercialisation and user-pays systems, most students simply won’t have the time, energy or financial freedom to charge down Queen Street screaming fanatically about global warming. Beyond merely abolishing student services, the end of student unions in Australia shifts Australia’s political landscape irreversibly.

Late last semester, in the foyer of UQ’s Law library, the UQ Student Union posted a billboard-sized open letter to the student body, pleading for input into the future shape of the union and its provision of services. Not long after, the words “who cares” appeared across the text in crude, green highlighter. Within a week, the letter had disappeared. Who cares, indeed? Student politics are no more. RIP student politics.