Imagine a movement that urged former students striving to pay off their student loans to just stop. Don't make the payments, dry up the coffers, and force an overhaul of the system that many of us are drowning in. Sounds fun. And it would probably open up some funds for a Playstation 4.
Two problems spring to mind, though. One, it's hard to imagine the agitators of this hypothetical movement not getting taken down on some kind of criminal conspiracy charge. This would need to be an overwhelming movement with a lot of visibility and a central leadership to keep this borderline-extortionist movement steady. If the point is to send a shock to the system, we need
everybody. Which leads us to problem number two: if even a third of former students continue paying up, those of us opting out are sunk: still in debt, and now also defaulting on our debt, with no message being sent and little leverage to be had. I'm pulling that "one-third" number out of my ass, but you see my point.
As Matt Taibbi's recent
Rolling Stone piece,
"The College-Loan Scandal," makes painfully clear, the only thing worse than owing the government for that diploma of yours is defaulting on what you owe and watching your $38,000 debt balloon to $100,000. That's the actual story of Alan Collinge, one of several cases that Taibbi highlights in his investigation of the government's surprisingly well-run student loans racket.
Taibbi is most interested in these cases of default, the mob-like tactics of the creditors--whose returns on defaults are stunning (see 'Collinge' above)--and why no one in government is willing to do anything about it (in short: Democrats like to brag about sending people to college and Republicans don't care about anyone who isn't them). The defaulters provide dramatic examples; students paying off their crippling debts is less dramatic because it's more commonplace. It's commonplace because these debts are, well,
necessary. Taibbi mentions the
New York Times article from earlier this year about how a bachelor's degree is what a high school degree used to be and writes,
"If they don't have the degree, then they have no chance at all. So if
they even want a clerking job, they must dive face-first into the debt
muck and take their chances that they won't end up watching the federal
government take bites out of disability checks while their law degree
gathers dust downstairs somewhere. So, yes, a college education is a great thing, and you probably need one
now more than ever – the problem is that it may very well be mandatory,
may have less of a chance of ever getting you a job, and you may still
be paying for it on your deathbed no matter what."
And there's the rub. College is no longer a status symbol for the manor-born. Those still-spiking tuitions are the entry fee to adulthood for people my age.
I've sung
this song before. I piled on debt (fairly light compared to my peers) mostly obliviously because I was a
goddamn teenager. Now, I can live with that. But, in order to have the career I want in the field I want, I'm going back, knowing it'll fling me further into debt on the chance that it gets me where I want to go. That's the gamble I'm taking and while I'm not exactly forced into it, neither am I doing it entirely willingly. If you don't understand the difference, you may not be ready for this debate.
A final note: in the next lane over from myself and my cohorts are all the teenagers choosing not to go, as
enrollment continues to fall. Opting-out in a different way. I don't know whether this will be a wake up call to schools to reassess tuition rates (I suspect not) or how these people will fare in a job market still not inclined to let go of its degree requirements (well, I hope). But perhaps it's a start. It might at least get some heads out of the sand.
