The hidden cost of being a Columbia student

At Columbia, the cost of student life is not just measured in subway fares. It is measured in what students risk when they choose to speak.

Photo by Jacquie Traenkle/The Barnard Bulletin

By Amanda Mallous

April 2, 2026

Living in New York City can be expensive. From paying $6 just to take the subway to and from campus, to salads costing an average of $20, it is easy to feel the daily cost of being a student here.

But the real cost of studying in New York is not measured in subway fares or overpriced lunches. It is measured in fear, in uncertainty, and in the realization that your campus is not immune to the politics unfolding beyond its gates.

On February 26, 2026, federal agents from the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) forcibly detained Elmina “Ellie” Aghayeva (GS ’26) directly from her campus dormitory. Her detention followed a pattern: since early 2025, immigration authorities have targeted students all over America, including Mahmoud Khalil (SIPA ’24), Yunseo Chung (CC ’26), Rumeysa Ozturk (TC ’20), and Leqaa Kordia — many of whom were reportedly investigated after participating in or speaking about political protests on their campuses.

For many students, especially international students, the message was chilling. Speech that was once protected suddenly felt dangerous.

However, in many ways, this moment did not emerge out of nowhere — it exposed a shift that had already been taking place on campus. Since 2022, Columbia University has ranked last in the nation for free speech — a title only recently seized by Barnard College in 2026. These rankings reflect a growing perception among students that expression comes with consequences. When administrations prioritize restrictive conduct codes over the protection of speech, they effectively lower the threshold for outside intervention. By labeling student demonstrations as “unauthorized” or “disruptive,” the University justifies the involvement of law enforcement, from the NYPD to federal agencies, to step in and carry out detainments that would otherwise be seen as overreach.

The detainment of students does not just mark individual incidents. Instead, it signals a broader transformation in how universities operate within national political conflicts. At Columbia, students have seen waves of arrests during protests, following administrative decisions to bring police onto school grounds during demonstrations. 

What were once spaces for protected debate are increasingly shaped by external political pressures. Student activism, especially when tied to global conflicts or immigration, can trigger surveillance, discipline, or even federal intervention, such as the revocation of student visas and investigations by the Department of Homeland Security. Scholars and legal frameworks have long described this dynamic as a “chilling effect,” in which government action deters speech not through direct punishment but through the fear of its potential consequences. At the campus level, studies show this is not theoretical — major surveys find that a majority of Columbia students report self-censoring on controversial topics due to fear of backlash or punishment.

As a result, college campuses are no longer insulated from state power; they are becoming extensions of it. 

No salad or subway ride compares to the price of waking up to the arrests of your classmates, colleagues, or peers — especially on the basis of free speech, a constitutional right. No college admissions pamphlet or monthly budget predicted the cost of fear of being detained on your “secure” campus, the cost of hesitation international students face when expressing their opinions. Or the cost of suspense we all face waiting for when Columbia will finally stand strongly with their students, rather than against them.

Every morning, I open my dorm window and relish in the view of Broadway and Columbia’s gates. Usually, I watch as friend groups laugh while walking to class together, or professors rush from one campus to another. But on February 26, the scene outside looked different.

I did not see protests “inconveniencing” traffic or students shouting “vulgarities” in rage. I saw hundreds of students gathered at Columbia’s gates, many organized by campus groups and grassroots coalitions, calling for the release of detained classmates and greater transparency from the University. From 116th to 120th Street, posters reading “Students are not criminals” were held above the crowd, while chants demanded both institutional accountability and protection for international students. I saw students standing up for one another. I saw a coalition refusing to let fear dictate silence. I saw unity. I saw our community.

And it was beautiful.

While the protest lasted approximately four hours, the message will linger for months to come. Living in New York, at the focal point of political decisions that ripple across the nation, means the costs of student life extends far beyond rent or groceries. Each time we are taxed with controversy surrounding our university, students face a decision: spend our time, energy, and resources pushing back, or simply walk past.

But in New York, doing nothing is not neutral.

Here, doing nothing means actively choosing to not fight for your community. Doing nothing is allowing constitutional violations to continue without repercussions. Doing nothing aids the institutions that operate on corruption, as others actively protest against them. 

The hidden cost of being a Columbia student is this: you are never just a student. Every day, you face the choice to engage or to walk past.

There is more to be done. Across campus, students have responded by organizing protests, teach-ins, and “Know Your Rights” trainings that extend beyond the University into the broader New York community. These actions are not just symbolic; instead, they reflect a growing understanding that awareness and collective action are essential when institutional protections fall short. 

In moments like these, engagement becomes more than participation — it becomes a form of protection. Not just for individuals, but for the integrity of the community as a whole. Doing something pushes back against the threat of silence.

For Columbia students today, speech is no longer free. It is a cost we must fight for, until our voices are no longer a luxury, but a right.