Because nothing says “land of the free” like government-mandated groupthink and curriculum by executive order. That’s the twisted irony of our moment: the same politicians who rail against “indoctrination” in higher education are now trying to dictate exactly what can be taught, who can teach it, and which students are allowed to stay. The Trump Administration has launched a coordinated campaign to turn America’s colleges into ideological obedience schools—where dissent is punished, history is sanitized, and loyalty to the party line trumps loyalty to fact and reality.
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Dr. Julian Vasquez Heilig
Take, for example, Dr. Santa Ono’s presidency at the University of Michigan. His tenure in one of the nation’s most progressive communities, was marked not by courage—but by its absence. Faced with attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI); faculty speech; and academic freedom, Ono chose a strategy of avoidance. Rather than publicly defending the university’s values, he opted for a politics of minimization: sidestepping national commentary, remaining silent in the face of conflict, and failing to show moral clarity when it mattered most. Even more perplexing is that Ono sought the presidency at the University of Florida—a state where Governor Ron DeSantis has led an all-out assault on public higher education: banning DEI, dismantling New College, and muscling ideological control over boards and curricula. Considering earlier comments supportive of DEI, perhaps his was a personal choice to survive in silence rather than lead with principle. That’s not presidential vision. This is retreat disguised as pragmatism.
In contrast, consider the bold leadership at Harvard and Princeton. Princeton’s President Christopher Eisgruber, a constitutional law scholar, has consistently refused to bend to Trump-era political pressures. Whether the issue is free speech, DEI, or faculty ideology, Eisgruber has remained blunt, consistent, and transparent about Princeton’s values. He hasn’t merely responded—he has resisted. Publicly. Proudly. Harvard’s interim president, Dr. Alan Garber, took over amid political firestorms after the resignation of Dr. Claudine Gay, the university’s first Black president. Rather than shrink from the pressure, he has issued clear, unapologetic defenses of academic freedom and university independence. Garber has shown that courage isn’t about tenure or title—it’s about conviction. He reminds us that a president doesn’t need decades in office to lead; they just need a spine. That’s what real leadership looks like.
These leaders are not merely weathering Trump-era political storms. They are confronting them—through litigation, public messaging, and engagement with their campus communities. They are building coalitions rather than cowering in fear. In doing so, they prove that higher education doesn’t have to shrink to survive. It can fight back—and thrive. The difference between these leaders and those who remain silent comes down to two words: personality and purpose. Universities that are growing their national voices—rather than losing them—are led by people who understand this moment not only as a test of institutional strategy, but as a test of character.
That’s why governing boards, faculty senates, presidential search committees, and search firms must begin to recalibrate what they are looking for. In this era, we don’t just need administrators who can balance budgets, run capital campaigns, or secure accreditation. We need organizers, defenders, and coalition-builders. Courage must be valued alongside fundraising, academic pedigree, and strategic planning. Anything less is leadership malpractice.
I asked ChatGPT’s deep search function to scan the 16 currently open president and chancellor job descriptions posted publicly across the U.S. I wanted to know: are today’s institutions explicitly seeking leaders who are courageous in their politically savvy and equipped to navigate this moment? The results were sobering. Only two of the 17 job postings mentioned courage directly. One called for a leader who would act “with courage, always focusing on the mission and best interests of the college.” Another sought someone with the “courage to address difficult issues while maintaining diplomacy and tact.” Just two. And while a few mentioned political or governmental engagement or legal compliance, the postings did not explicitly prioritize courage in these skills. Most of the postings read like a pre-2025 wish list: safe, managerial, and generic. The kind of profiles that prioritize maintaining the status quo over confronting existential threats. This is a critical failure.
Yes, I recognize that context matters. In red states, university presidents face highly politicized environments: hostile legislatures, performative investigations, and threats to tenure, accreditation, and even physical safety. In these climates, courage can feel professionally suicidal. And yet, faculty and students are rising up—and in some cases, presidents are pushing back, quietly or publicly. Even where courage is costly, it still shows up. But in blue states—where protections for liberty in education are stronger— courts more favorable to academic freedom, and public opinion more supportive—there is no excuse for silence. There is no rationale for weak positioning. If university presidents won’t defend truth and academic freedom there, where will they?
This moment in American higher education is not just about one executive order, one political party, or one cultural debate. It’s about the very soul of colleges and universities. Will higher education remain a democratic institution for inquiry, critique, and inclusion? Or will it become a neutered bureaucracy—afraid of its mission, unwilling to speak, and easily manipulated by political forces? The leaders we choose now will determine the answer. Courage must no longer be considered a “nice to have.” It is a prerequisite. It must be baked into the hiring criteria for every president and chancellor from this moment forward. It must be reflected in search committee interviews, candidate statements, and institutional priorities. Because silence is not neutrality. It is surrender.
And in this moment—when knowledge itself is on trial—we cannot afford to be led by weak caretakers or appeasers. We need presidents and chancellors who are advocates. Leaders who understand that to protect the university, they must sometimes confront politics. Leaders who know that the cost of courage is high—but the cost of cowardice is higher. In short, we need presidents and chancellors who are willing to fight for higher education. And that requirement should be in every job description. Because anything less is a betrayal of the mission higher education claims to uphold.
Dr. Julian Vasquez Heilig is a Professor of Educational Leadership, Research, and Technology at Western Michigan University.
