When Donald Trump announced his intent to impose a new wave of tariffs (which now have been put on hold for ninety days), the global reaction was swift and mostly economic. The stock market had its worst day in years, with US stocks especially taking a heavy hit (Dow Jones lost 7.5 & in 5 days), politicians tried to put out the fire by renegotiating more favorable conditions or strengthening ties with other partners, and firms announced price changes to balance the cuts in profits due to increased costs.
Yet, amidst the noise, one sector remained conspicuously absent from public analysis: higher education.
What do tariffs have to do with universities?
More than one might think. In an era in which knowledge flows across borders as freely as capital, any signal of economic nationalism reverberates far beyond the balance sheets. The return of protectionism is not just about trade, it is about borders, access, and the political framing of “foreignness.” That has consequences for institutions whose very model relies on international openness.
This article examines what a resurgence of US protectionism, especially if paired with cultural retrenchment and politicized control of academic spaces, might mean for Italian universities. Institutions like Bocconi have spent decades constructing an international identity. But what happens when the world they have oriented toward begins to close in on itself?
Over the last two decades, internationalization has moved from an optional layer of prestige to a central strategic objective for many European universities. In Italy, this shift has been particularly visible in institutions seeking to position themselves in the higher echelons of international rankings. Institutions like Bocconi, Luiss, and Politecnico di Milano have actively marketed themselves as global players, developing English-taught programs, signing bilateral agreements with foreign institutions, and expanding international student recruitment.
This model of academic globalization rests on several interconnected pillars: student mobility (via programs like Erasmus+ and bilateral exchanges), international faculty hiring, research partnerships (often linked to European and transatlantic funding structures), and global branding. For many students, the assumption that higher education includes at least one significant international experience has become so normalized that it’s no longer seen as optional, but as essential to career readiness.
But this interconnected model depends on a relatively stable world order: a consensus that cross-border movement of people and ideas is desirable, or at the very least, manageable. What happens when that assumption no longer holds?
Tariffs are rarely just about economics. As instruments of foreign policy, they send messages about priorities, alignments, and worldviews.
The 2025 proposal to reintroduce sweeping tariffs on trading partners is part of Trump’s strategy to return to transactional internationalism, where multilateral cooperation is replaced by bilateral pressure, and where international relations are a zero-sum game rather than an opportunity for mutual development. The message is clear: yield or pay the consequences.
This has effects beyond economics. It bleeds into the cultural and academic spheres, where ideas, people, and institutions naturally cross borders in the spirit of collaboration. In the United States, this trend is already visible. The Trump administration has begun to target universities seen as politically antagonistic, especially those hosting or tolerating pro-Palestinian protests, with threats of funding cuts, tighter visa regulations, and public vilification. Students have been arrested, visas have been revoked, and several universities have reported increased federal scrutiny of foreign research partnerships.
If this trajectory continues, the US could become not just economically, but intellectually inward. For Italian universities that rely on access to American networks and partners, this raises a difficult question: how do you remain globally connected when one of the pillars of the global system begins to withdraw?
For Italian universities, especially those that have made internationalization a core identity, the risks of a global retreat are not abstract. They are practical, reputational, and strategic.
Practically, increased visa scrutiny, potential restrictions on joint programs, and a declining sense of openness in American academia could make exchange programs with U.S. institutions harder to sustain. Students applying for mobility programs might face tighter entry barriers or see key host institutions become less receptive. In the worst case, partnerships could be paused or quietly dissolved.
Reputationally, if the United States is perceived as hostile to international students or politically punitive towards dissent within universities, its allure as an academic destination may diminish. This is particularly relevant for students considering postgraduate opportunities: if the cost of studying in the U.S. includes ideological policing or unstable policy conditions, other destinations, within Europe or in Asia, may become more appealing.
Recent reporting also suggests that U.S. academics are beginning to exit the system. In response to growing political pressure and instability, some American professors are relocating to countries like Canada, where academic freedom and institutional neutrality are seen as more protected. While not yet a mass exodus, the trend points to a broader erosion of confidence in the American academic model, a signal that partners abroad may interpret as a warning sign.
Strategically, this forces Italian universities to re-evaluate their stance. If American partnerships weaken, how do they reallocate their collaborative capital? Is there an opportunity to deepen ties within Europe? Should institutions look more to Asia, where academic systems are expanding, and policy alignment might be more predictable?
Are we witnessing the beginning of a “de-globalization” of knowledge? The idea that academia, historically a space where the best minds could collaborate freely across borders, might be subject to the same power dynamics shaping geopolitics seems dystopian, but it’s not implausible.
As governments grow more assertive, universities may increasingly be caught in the crossfire. In sensitive sectors like AI, biotechnology, and advanced computing, we’re already seeing a trend toward secrecy and strategic retrenchment. Research is again becoming a geopolitical asset, one that some states are willing to weaponize. Higher education as a whole could follow in its path.
This shift raises deeper questions. Can academic openness survive in a world that no longer values interdependence? Will students and researchers be able to move as freely, think as critically, and publish as openly as before? Or will openness itself become a form of soft power, prized by some, and feared by others?
Of course, this tension existed before Trump’s appointment. Even in highly esteemed institutions, political expression can be quietly regulated, sometimes even off-campus or on unofficial platforms. If we add state pressure to the mix, we risk having students who are not allowed to make their dissent heard.
Italian universities, and European institutions more broadly, must now begin to think strategically. Not just about curriculum or mobility, but about resilience: how to preserve their international role in an era of fragmentation.
The risk is not just about losing access to American campuses. It’s about being caught off guard, about continuing to operate under the assumption of openness in a world increasingly tilted toward closure. Other countries might follow in response to Trump’s policies. Universities might need to limit themselves to their European partners for a while.
What’s at stake is not only access to a few American campuses or the short-term viability of exchange programs. It is a broader, quieter question: whether universities can remain open in a world that increasingly appears to be closing.
The international model of higher education, built on the assumption of stability, cooperation, and shared academic purpose, now faces a climate in which those foundations are eroding. Tariffs may seem like distant tools of economic policy, but their effects can ripple deep into the culture of learning and research.
For institutions like Bocconi, and for students who imagine their academic and professional futures unfolding across borders, the time to ask difficult questions is now. How do we adapt to a world in which global interconnection is no longer guaranteed? How do we prepare for a future where even knowledge is obstructed by walls?
Ambition and love for collaboration built the global university, but if the world keeps closing in, it may take more than ideas to keep the system together.
