My campus has changed dramatically in the three years since Ron DeSantis tried to eliminate the University of Florida awakening ideology. The professor suddenly worried that they could say and teach. Some have begun to avoid terms like “racism.” One student recently said that when someone used “intersection” in their class, the instructor told her not to use the word.
This could soon become a fact in schools across the country. We all heard of elite institutions cowering before President Trump's attack on higher education. Take it from someone you know: it can get worse – much worse.
Trump has seen what happened in Florida. The Project 2025 Education Policy Architect says Florida will “lead the way” in the university's overhaul. Already, Trump has threatened to withdraw funds from universities that don't wipe out language that appears to have woken up. He is calling for new oversight for certain area studies departments. Then, as Florida has, he could try to ban “political or social activities.” He could undermine the protections offered by tenure and teacher unions. I saw this happen on my campus and I know the sacrifices it took. If the Trump administration has that way, my experience can provide a preview of what comes for other universities.
Before DeSantis targeted higher education, Florida faculty members were convinced that administrators support professional judgment on how to teach students. We had open and complicated discussions without fear of our careers. During a conversation in one of my classes, the female student expressed her fear of catcall being provoked, and the male peers responded thoughtfully, reflecting on their actions, the learning experiences of everyone. Today, the conversation is fearful of violating Florida laws that prohibit male students from teaching them that they need to feel guilty about the behavior of other men.
Since DeSantis' crackdown, I have seen colleagues harassing and investigating, even outside the classroom, for dealing with local issues. An environment of fear gives the government exactly the outcome it wants. Administrators and faculty practice anticipatory submission to suppress open and civil debate that guides students to develop their views and avoid the emergence of orientation.
One colleague said he stopped assigning articles about lynching and white evangelicalism, fearing that these terms could raise the red flag. Another said she censors her language not only on her class and campus, but also on her personal social media.
Several professors are exposed to lock-up efforts. Last year, a man posing for students tried to encourage Muslim faculty to criticize DeSantis and Israel. A similar incident happened to me. In October 2024, my department chair called me to his office and told me that someone who claimed to be a student in my religion and science class complained that they had discussed a particular candidate for 20 minutes, including who I was voting and why. I was stunned. It never happened in that class or elsewhere. That's the opposite of the way I teach. Fortunately, the dean's office assured that a single, unconditional charge was not the basis for disciplinary action.
Much worse than the horror of the investigation was the way the accusations shook the trust I thought I had with my students. One of them hated me so much that he would lie to trouble me? Ultimately, I am sure that the person complaining is a provocateur, not a student in my class. (It was probably not a coincidence that the claim was filed shortly after my name appeared in a Politico article about the change of campus.)
The incident shattered my confidence that if I did my job well and followed the rules, I would be safe. Over 30 years at the University of Florida, I have written hundreds of recommendation letters to thousands of students and advised countless research projects. I have published dozens of books and numerous articles, received research and education awards, and served on many university and university committees. But the nation does not trust me to do my job.
How can you challenge students to ask difficult questions? And how can you follow the rules if even university administrators are not always sure how to interpret them?
Above all, creating community in the classroom is a web of trust and curiosity that connects students and instructors with shared intellectual projects. It makes mistrust, fear and self-censorship impossible for the project.
Trump's recent actions make the atmosphere on campus even more tense. His orders threaten not only the humanities and social sciences, but also STEM research funding. And as immigration agents detain international students and deport them, non-citizens (and students who are naturalized citizens) on campus bow their heads even further.
Like before DeSantis and Richard Nixon, Trump and Vice President JD Vance believe the professor is the enemy. They want ordinary Americans to squeal the instructors at university and to consider us as intolerant extremists promoted solely by political ideology.
Teaching college students was the biggest gift of my professional life. I love college and students and do a good job. I have no desire to instruct anyone. The same can be said for my colleagues.
We encourage people to spend time in our classrooms for those who think the professor is their enemy. You may discover that we are all on the same side in the end.
Anna Peterson is a professor in the Faculty of Religion at the University of Florida. Her book includes “Gods on Our Side: Religion, Social Movements, Social Change” and “Material Practice in Ethical Theory” and “Religion, Social Change” and “Material Practice in Ethical Theory”.
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