MARCH 4 — Universities are often presented as “neutral” institutions, places where knowledge is produced, debated, and disseminated without external interference.

Administrators and policymakers frequently assert that universities should stay “above politics,” as though they exist in a vacuum, untouched by the power struggles shaping the societies in which they operate.

This belief is not only naïve — it is dangerous. Universities are, and always have been, deeply political actors.

Their decisions about funding, curriculum, faculty hiring, and student activism are shaped by political and economic interests. More importantly, they do not just reflect the world; they shape it.

Denying this reality does not make universities apolitical. It simply allows those with power — governments, corporations, and ideological groups —to dictate the direction of higher education without challenge.

The question is not whether universities are political, but what kind of political actors they choose to be.

Do they act as defenders of truth, critical thought, and academic freedom? Or do they become instruments of state control, corporate influence, and ideological conformity?

Knowledge is power and power is always political

At the core of every university is knowledge production, and the production of knowledge is never neutral.

Decisions about what is taught, which research is funded, and whose perspectives are prioritised are deeply political.

In an ideal world, universities would be spaces where diverse ideas flourish, where knowledge is pursued for the common good, and where academics are free to challenge prevailing wisdom.

But in reality, knowledge production is shaped by state interests, corporate influence, and the political economy of higher education.

One of the clearest examples of this is the way research funding is allocated. Governments direct funding toward research that aligns with national priorities — whether in security, economic growth, or technological innovation — while discouraging work that challenges state narratives.

In many countries, research on human rights, social justice, and government accountability struggles for funding, while studies on economic development, counterterrorism, and technological advancement thrive.

This is not an accident. It is a political decision that determines which ideas receive legitimacy and which remain in the margins.

The curriculum itself is another battleground. Universities shape public understanding by deciding whose knowledge is taught and whose is excluded.

Calls to “decolonise” the curriculum — by incorporating indigenous knowledge, feminist perspectives, and Global South scholarship — are met with fierce resistance in many institutions, revealing just how deeply entrenched traditional power structures are in academia.

A refusal to revise curricula in response to these critiques is not a neutral stance — it is an active decision to preserve historical hierarchies in knowledge production.

Universities as extensions of state power

Universities are not just centres of knowledge; they are also institutions of governance, often operating under direct or indirect state control.

Public universities receive government funding, and even private universities function within national regulatory frameworks.

This creates significant vulnerabilities, making universities susceptible to political interference.

One of the most obvious ways this plays out is through the politicisation of university leadership. In many countries, governments appoint university vice-chancellors, rectors, and board members based on political loyalty rather than academic merit.

These appointments often come with an unspoken expectation: protect the state, silence dissent, and ensure that universities do not become hubs of political resistance.

This influence extends to the suppression of academic freedom and student activism.

Historically, universities have been hotbeds of political movements, with students and faculty at the forefront of struggles for democracy, civil rights, and social justice.

But state authorities often view universities as threats rather than partners in democratic development.

As a result, student protests are met with heavy-handed crackdowns, and academics who criticise the government risk losing their jobs or facing legal action.

The repression of academic freedom is particularly evident in countries where authoritarianism is on the rise.

In Turkey, thousands of academics have been dismissed from their positions for expressing political dissent.

In Hong Kong, university administrators have been pressured to discipline students involved in pro-democracy protests.

In Thailand, student-led movements advocating for monarchy reform have led to arrests and academic penalties.

These are not isolated cases. They illustrate a broader trend in which universities serve as enforcers of state control rather than spaces of critical inquiry.

The corporate takeover of higher education

If state influence is one side of the coin, corporate influence is the other. The rise of neoliberalism in higher education has transformed universities into profit-driven institutions, prioritising market demands over intellectual exploration.

Universities now compete for international students, climb global rankings, and seek lucrative partnerships with private industry — all of which come at a cost.

One of the clearest signs of this shift is the commodification of education. Universities increasingly operate like businesses, treating students as customers and faculty as service providers.

Adjunct faculty work under precarious conditions, while tenured positions become harder to secure.

The humanities and social sciences, which foster critical thinking, receive less funding and institutional support than STEM disciplines, which attract corporate and government investment.

Research, too, is shaped by corporate interests. Pharmaceutical companies fund research that favours their patented drugs.

Fossil fuel companies sponsor university programs while downplaying climate change concerns. Big tech firms partner with universities to develop artificial intelligence and data surveillance technologies, often with little public accountability.

This growing corporate influence raises serious ethical concerns about the independence of academic research.

When universities become financially dependent on private industry, who gets to decide which research is conducted and which questions are worth asking?

The question is not whether universities are political, but what kind of political actors they choose to be. ― AFP pic
The question is not whether universities are political, but what kind of political actors they choose to be. ― AFP pic

Universities as sites of resistance

Despite these challenges, universities remain powerful spaces for resistance. Throughout history, students and academics have been at the forefront of social and political change.

Universities played crucial roles in anti-colonial struggles, civil rights movements, and pro-democracy uprisings.

In recent years, student-led movements have pushed for climate justice, racial and gender equality, and ethical labour practices within universities themselves.

Universities cannot afford to remain passive. The idea that they can exist outside of politics is an illusion — one that benefits those who seek to control knowledge rather than expand it.

The real question is: Will universities serve as tools of state and corporate power, or will they reclaim their role as spaces of truth-seeking, debate, and transformation?

We, as students, faculty, and citizens, also have a choice. We can accept the increasing restrictions on academic freedom and allow universities to become institutions of conformity, or we can fight for them to remain spaces of critical inquiry, resistance, and societal progress.

Universities are political actors. The only question left is what kind of political actors they will choose to be.

* Khoo Ying Hooi, PhD is Associate Professor in the Department of International and Strategic Studies, Universiti Malaya.

** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.