Recently, I was sitting in the 24/7 library at ANU, watching a viral Senate estimates clip on my small laptop screen. In this clip, our interim vice-chancellor revealed that the catastrophic implosion of ANU management over the past year had cost the university a mammoth $100 million in reputational costs.

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Whilst watching, I also noticed in the corner of my eye a student, wrapped in their jacket, asleep on one of the couches in the library. I left for the evening, having finished my work.

But when I returned in the morning to do some printing, the same student was still there. This wasn't the first time I'd seen or heard of students sleeping in the warm library because they couldn't make rent, or afford to turn the heating on at their share-houses off campus.

Following the revelation at estimates, headlines were spun around the country, rightfully highlighting yet another dumpster fire our university found itself in.

But as executives counted their $100m in reputational costs, I couldn't help but think of that student sleeping in the library. In fact, I couldn't help but think of all the lives, all the human faces at the coalface of these devastating betrayals.

At the end of 2024, when the ANU underwent its controversial restructure, led by university management for reasons now exposed as completely unfounded, a deep sense of grief and panic took hold over our campus.

The professors we had come to love and respect, were being let go by the day. Degree offerings and choices of subjects were being culled. The standard of our university experience, for the price we were paying, was declining.

But let's be clear. To think that the crisis which unfolded at........

© Canberra Times