Democracy Disrupted: Alumni Rights and Political Overreach
Picture this: For more than 130 years, Indiana University (IU) alumni have played a vital role in shaping the institution by electing representatives to its Board of Trustees. Now, with a single legislative pen stroke, that democratic legacy hangs by a thread. In a striking development this spring, Indiana Governor Mike Braun signed into law a provision buried in House Bill 1001 that upends tradition and hands the governor sweeping new power over IU’s governance. The sudden elimination of alumni voting rights for three key trustee positions—a move added quietly to the state’s budget bill—has ignited a major legal and philosophical battle over the future of public higher education in Indiana.
Hoosiers pride themselves on fair play and civic participation. That’s why this move feels so jarring to many. Justin Vasel, an IU alumnus and trustee candidate, was actively campaigning with the hope of bringing a fresh voice to the Board. With the law’s last-minute change, his candidacy—and thousands of alumni ballots—appear to have been erased overnight. Vasel, with the backing of the ACLU of Indiana, is now suing to restore what he and countless alumni consider a core democratic right. The lawsuit argues that such targeted, selective legislation—impacting only Indiana University and circumventing other public, four-year campuses in the state—violates the Indiana Constitution’s clear mandate for uniform laws.
Is this merely a bureaucratic reshuffle, or something far more consequential for public institutions and alumni voices? A closer look reveals what’s truly at stake is the principle of shared governance—a value cherished across American higher education since the days of the Morrill Act.
Governor’s Rationale: Representation or Power Play?
Governor Braun defends his decision with striking simplicity. He asserts that alumni elections were problematic, claiming, “It wasn’t representative. It enabled a clique of a few people to actually determine three board members and I don’t think that is real representation.” On its surface, the argument sounds practical: if alumni participation is low, why not centralize decision-making and ensure broader accountability?
But that tidy justification raises uncomfortable questions. Alumni organizations, including the IU Alumni Association, have long celebrated their involvement in governance as fueling institutional diversity, independence, and investment. According to the Association of Governing Boards, alumni-elected trustee positions have provided vital community perspectives, acting as a counterweight to political or corporate interests. Concentrating appointment power in the governor’s office risks turning an academic body into a political instrument—and history offers cautious warnings about where that road may lead.
One need only look to neighboring states for cautionary tales. In 2016, North Carolina’s state legislature remade its flagship university’s board structure, introducing political appointees and sharply reducing alumni and faculty roles. The result, as documented by The Chronicle of Higher Education and several faculty researchers, was an uptick in ideological interference, policy whiplash, and a chilling effect on campus dissent and academic freedom. Do Hoosiers really want to travel that same path?
“Stripping alumni of their voting rights doesn’t just violate tradition—it severs a critical line of accountability between the university and the people it serves. When governance becomes a political spoils system, public trust erodes and meaningful debate dries up.”
The ACLU of Indiana echoes this concern, warning that the new law disenfranchises thousands of engaged alumni and severs the unique relationship built over more than a century. Vasel, the plaintiff, notes that he had devoted significant time and resources to an election campaign—now rendered moot by legislative fiat. Small wonder so many see the move less as reform and more as an incursion of raw political muscle.
The Broader Stakes: Uniform Rights and Higher Ed Autonomy
Beyond IU’s campus, the ripples of this case could reach all corners of Indiana’s education system. The lawsuit contends the new law stands in stark contrast to Article Four, Section 23 of the Indiana Constitution—which requires state laws to be “general and of uniform operation throughout the State”. Why should IU alumni lose rights that graduates of Purdue, Ball State, and other public universities still retain?
This principle became a pillar of American law after post-Civil War legislators saw the risks of “special legislation”—rules granting unique powers or privileges to favored groups or institutions. According to Professor Sheila Kennedy, a constitutional law expert at Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis, “When legislatures carve out exceptions for single institutions, they undermine the very concept of equal protection. Such special favors invite abuse and corrode public confidence.”
Looming over the legal debate are rising concerns about the national trend toward politicizing higher education boards. In recent years, conservative lawmakers from Texas to Florida have acted aggressively to curb what they portray as left-leaning university cultures. Faculty firings, curriculum bans, and direct board takeovers have made headlines—and left campus communities deeply unsettled. Harvard sociologist Theda Skocpol cautions, “When political leaders gain unchecked power over universities, it chills innovation, silences the marginalized, and drives young talent elsewhere.”
Could Indiana soon find itself facing brain drain as students and professors look for environments where academic integrity holds sway? The stakes couldn’t be higher. Universities thrive on open debate, independent leadership, and enduring community investment. Curtailing democratic traditions isn’t the way to modernize them—it’s a recipe for stagnation and harm that lingers for generations.
As this battle winds its way through the courts, Indiana’s alumni, faculty, and students must decide: Will they let power consolidate in the governor’s office, or defend the messy but vital tradition of participatory governance? For anyone who loves their alma mater, this is a call to action.
