The elite never wanted us educated
Ontario says it’s investing in students—so why does it feel like we’re paying for it?
When the Ontario government announced $6.4 billion in new funding for postsecondary education, the headline sounded reassuring: historic investment, long-term sustainability, protected access.
But, buried beneath the announcement was a quieter, more consequential shift. Beginning in Fall 2026, students will receive a maximum of 25 per cent of their OSAP funding as grants and a minimum of 75 per cent as loans.
That is not a small adjustment—it’s a 60 per cent change in funding, compared to previous years. It is a structural transformation.
As a student juggling part-time work and academic ambition, I don’t experience OSAP as an abstract policy. I experience it as rent paid on time, textbooks purchased without panic, and the difference between graduating with manageable debt or with a financial burden that shapes every life decision that follows.
The province describes this reform as strengthening sustainability and encouraging students’ “appropriate investment” in their education. But, when grants shrink and loans expand, the state reduces its share of the risk and transfers more of it to students. And students are already carrying more risk than ever.
According to national graduate surveys, the average debt of an undergraduate post-graduation was $20,500 in 2000. By 2020, that number had risen to $30,600. The percentage of indebted bachelor’s graduates leaving with “large debts”—defined as $25,000 or more—climbed from 33 per cent to 48 per cent. Nearly half of indebted bachelor’s graduates now leave post-secondary schools with at least $25,000 in debt.
At the master’s level, the pattern is even steeper. Average debt rose from $20,300 in 2000 to $33,300 in 2020, with 51 per cent of indebted graduates now carrying large debt.
Debt is not stable. It has been rising for two decades. Now Ontario is formalizing a 75 per cent loan model.
Yes, $6.4 billion is flowing into institutions. Yes, operating funding will increase. Yes, colleges and universities face financial strain, especially after federal caps on international students reduced revenue streams. But, institutional sustainability and student affordability are not the same thing.
The province emphasizes that tuition increases will be capped at 2 per cent annually, described as roughly $0.47 a day for university students. But, students do not experience tuition daily. We experience it in semester invoices and repayment schedules that extend years beyond graduation.
Ontario already has some of the highest tuition rates in Canada, averaging over $7,900 annually for undergraduates, more than double of Quebec’s average. When high tuition intersects with rising debt and reduced grant support, the direction is clear: students will graduate owing more.
The consequences are not evenly distributed.
Students whose families can pay upfront will absorb this shift with relative ease. Loans function as a buffer, not a lifeline. But first-generation students, working-class students, and immigrant families already stretching finances will feel the change immediately. For them, debt is not theoretical, it is restrictive.
When grants shrink and loans expand, education stops feeling like a ladder and starts to feel like a gamble. Those with financial cushions can afford to take risks. Those without them cannot.
The government’s announcement repeatedly emphasizes preparing students for “in-demand careers” and aligning programs with labour-market needs. Employability matters. But, when economic alignment becomes the primary lens for funding, education narrows.
We have already seen dismissive rhetoric about so-called “basket-weaving” courses from Doug Ford—comments widely criticized as devaluing the arts, humanities, and Indigenous studies. Whether offhand or not, such remarks reinforce a colonial hierarchy of knowledge: programs tied directly to economic output are prioritized and others are treated as secondary.
In a loan-heavy system, that hierarchy gains financial force. Students facing higher debt are more likely to choose programs perceived as financially secure rather than intellectually meaningful. Research consistently shows that debt influences behaviour: students from lower-income households are more debt-averse, less likely to pursue graduate education, and more likely to work longer hours during their studies, which can affect academic performance.
Debt does not simply follow education. It shapes choices within it.
The province insists access will remain protected, pointing to an enhanced Student Access Guarantee. But, guarantees negotiated institution by institution are not the same as broad, predictable grant funding. One depends on local implementation. The other reflects a structural commitment.
Ontario describes post-secondary education as one of its most important long-term investments and that is true. Higher education drives productivity, innovation, and civic participation. But, an investment should be shared.
Students are not asking to be shielded from responsibility. We understand that education has costs. What we are questioning is why a growing share of those costs must be carried individually, especially when debt levels have already risen so dramatically over the past two decades.
A 75 per cent loan model does not eliminate access. But, it changes who feels secure enough to pursue it. When nearly half of bachelor’s graduates already leave school with $25,000 or more in debt, increasing reliance on loans normalizes financial strain as the price of participation.
Money is never just about money. It reflects power—who absorbs risk and who controls opportunity. Ontario is investing billions in its institutions. The question is whether it is equally investing in the students who animate them. Because sustainability for institutions should not come at the cost of greater liability for graduates.
Education should expand possibilities. It should not expand debt as the condition for entry. If post-secondary education is truly essential to Ontario’s long-term prosperity, then access cannot quietly become dependent on one’s tolerance for risk. Otherwise, “historic investment” will mean something very different to the students paying for it.
