What’s Happening in the USA Could Happen Anywhere

Why Academia Everywhere Must Rethink Its Narrative Before It’s Too Late

25th March 2025

Screenshot of The Guardian, March 2025.

“What’s happening in the USA won’t happen here.”

I’ve heard this a few times in the past eight weeks across Australian academia since  President Donald Trump’s inauguration.

It’s a belief that I find utterly perplexing–and utterly dangerous.

The assumption is that because our culture is so different to the USA, then there’s no possible way that the same attacks would happen or be successful here. I’m sure the same is happening across the globe.

But how correct are these assumptions? And how much are we willing to bet on them?

The stakes are high. It’s a huge gamble. And having spent much of the past year in the US, I’m convinced that assuming it won’t happen here is the wrong one.

We are all more like the USA than we think

The USA may feel different–but a lot of these differences are superficial. Around the world, we’re seeing most of the same trends: a growing shift to populism and right-wing politics; societal stress about the cost of living; the increasing impact of climate change; a widening gap between the 1% and the rest of us; and ownership of mass media and social media by the same 1% who put profit and influence before all else.

These trends have been going for more than a decade by now. Trump is a driver of change, but also a symptom. This is the new normal. Focusing on how we are different to the US is a way of escaping an unpleasant reality, instead of engaging with it.

Trust me, I get the impulse to cling onto certainty. But the reaction I’m seeing reminds me of a recent conversation I had with a senior research executive at a USA university, who expressed remorse that they had not predicted the extent to which Trump would attack them. Similarly, at the annual conference of the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) this year in Boston, the overwhelming feedback from scientists was that the narrative around universities and research needed a total reframing to strengthen and defend against these attacks.

Everyone had one thing in common: they hadn’t seen the depths of the attacks coming. And they wished they had engaged the public much earlier.

Sounds unbelievable, right? How could they not see it coming?

But aren’t we doing the same thing?

One thing unites us: our self-limiting echo chamber

I believe that the echo chamber effect is partially responsible. Breaking free from these chambers requires us to suspend our own biases and actively seek out diverse perspectives and listen with empathy. However, this is easier said than done, especially in a world where everything from algorithms to our social circles and our own cognitive tendencies push us toward confirmation bias.

So, if you think what has happened in the USA won’t happen here, then who are you talking to? Are they just confirming what you want to hear?

In research and academia, bias looks like this: Research is an obvious public good and supporting university research is a self-evident virtue. Although politicians and the public may not understand the actual work, they understand that it makes the world a better place.

Now, I know that the world is a better place because of university research. But I believe this because I am a science publisher and I’ve worked with 100 science organisations during the past 10 years. It’s clear that people outside the sector don’t share my opinion–or the Trump attacks wouldn’t have gotten the traction they have.

The Trump administration’s cuts to research funding are already reshaping the global scientific community. The long-term consequences, like brain drain, stalled advancements, and weakened global partnerships, mean that now more than ever universities need to focus on improving their relationships with their respective governments and stakeholders.

My concern is that we will dismiss what is happening with Trump as a problem with that specific government, and not take the opportunity to assess our own weaknesses. We will listen to our comfortable echo chamber instead and reassure each other that this is just a blip. Before we know it, it will be too late.

Don’t assume the world understands you

When reviewing Oxford’s website, it took me two days to work out their key impacts and summarise them into a compelling narrative. I’m sure my version was missing some details – because they made it almost impossible to actually understand their impact.

It’s a troubling sign that a university doesn’t understand that the world needs to understand their benefit to society. Unfortunately, Oxford is not alone in this.

Explaining yourself to the world is on you. To expect people to understand you and value you because of a ranking system is outdated. Public support is not a ‘nice-to-have’. It’s the bare minimum. And as a sector, we are decades in debt.  

If your stakeholders–whether they are the public, funders, politicians, or partners–are not actively supporting your work to the level that you think they should be, then you cannot afford to dismiss them.

Don’t assume it’s because they are ignorant, conservative, or anti-elitist. Really dig into it and find out what is going on. Sit down with open-ended questions and empathy. Ask what’s happening in their world. What do they need from you? What would help them sort out their pain points?

Explaining research in a way that people can understand–particularly politicians–needs to be at the top of the agenda. This brings me back to my central thesis: communication and engagement need to be valued and resourced properly if universities are to survive these turbulent times and thrive in the future.

When I look to the USA in this moment of crisis, I absolutely do not think it is too late for the research sector to flip the narrative and to build the case for their support. But we must go onto war footing. We must accept that prestige does not win the battle for hearts and minds. The world has changed–now it’s our turn.