By The Hermit
At 18, you can’t legally rent a car. You can’t buy a drink. In some states, you can’t even rent an apartment without a co-signer. But you can sign your name to $100,000 or more in student loans—debt that you may spend the rest of your life trying to repay, and that can never be erased through bankruptcy. That is not just a legal loophole. It is a moral failure.
Each year, thousands of young people graduate high school with dreams of changing the world, fueled by ambition, idealism, and the promise that a college degree is the key to a better life. They are encouraged—by parents, schools, society—to pursue their passions, follow their dreams, and enroll in the “best” college they can get into, with little to no understanding of what that decision will mean financially. What they don’t hear until it’s too late is that their dream may come with a price tag that haunts them for decades.
It’s easy to blame these young borrowers for making “bad choices.” But that excuse falls apart under scrutiny. These are teenagers, many with no financial literacy, being asked to make a six-figure financial decision with fewer consumer protections than someone applying for a car loan. Unlike almost any other form of debt, student loans are nearly impossible to discharge in bankruptcy. The terms are long, the interest compounds relentlessly, and the lenders—often the federal government—face virtually no consequences when students fail to thrive.
Worse still, the system is designed to give the illusion of opportunity without accountability. Colleges can charge whatever they like, regardless of whether their graduates are able to earn enough to pay off the loans. Students majoring in low-paying but essential fields—like teaching, social work, or the arts—often face the harshest outcomes. They were told their passions mattered. What they weren’t told was that passion doesn’t pay down principal.
We have safeguards in other areas of life to protect young people from predatory decisions. We regulate the tobacco industry. We require financial disclosures in credit card applications. But when it comes to college loans, we turn a blind eye. We celebrate the student who gets into a prestigious private university without asking whether the $60,000-a-year tuition is an act of financial sabotage.
The ethical question is simple: Should we allow teenagers to take on life-altering debt for a product that might not deliver on its promise? And if we do, do we not bear some responsibility for the consequences?
This is not a call to abolish higher education or even student loans. It’s a call for informed consent, transparency, and a system that does not exploit youthful optimism. At the very least, we must mandate real financial counseling before loans are approved. We should tie loan limits to realistic earning potential by major. And we must re-examine bankruptcy laws that treat student borrowers as morally defective while letting corporate bankruptcies slide through the courts with ease.
When dreams become debt, we all lose. We lose talented individuals who never get the chance to thrive under the weight of what they owe. We lose the promise of education as a tool for social mobility. And we lose our moral compass, allowing a system that punishes people not for failing—but for daring to hope.
It’s time we ask not just what is legal, but who benefits—and at what cost.
— The Hermit