By Vladimir Bosanac
Kellogg School of Management, Class of 2004
When I learned that Northwestern University plans to close its San Francisco campus in spring 2026, I felt a personal sense of loss that goes beyond mere nostalgia. As a graduate of Northwestern’s Kellogg School of Management, having a piece of my alma mater in San Francisco served as more than just a reminder of my educational past—it was like having a piece of my childhood home in my adopted city.
For nearly a decade, Northwestern’s San Francisco campus has been a bridge connecting the innovative spirit of Silicon Valley with the academic rigor of one of America’s premier educational institutions. Housed in a downtown office building at 44 Montgomery Street, this satellite campus has provided immersive learning experiences for students in programs ranging from journalism to entrepreneurship, law to management.
While Northwestern cites changing “academic priorities” and insufficient demand for the space, we can’t ignore the deeper context—a $790 million federal funding freeze announced by the Trump administration last month. This political pressure adds a troubling dimension to what is being presented as a simple business decision. As JP Salvador, the site manager of the campus, bluntly told the Daily Northwestern, “It all comes down to money. If you don’t have it or you’re running out of it, then you have to make some cuts here and there.”
But such cuts come with profound costs that extend far beyond Northwestern’s balance sheet. For students who planned their academic careers around the Bay Area Immersion Experience, this closure represents a devastating disruption of educational plans.
The ripple effects of this closure will be felt throughout our economy and educational system. America’s greatest competitive advantage has always been our world-class universities and their ability to foster innovation through academic-industry partnerships. Northwestern’s San Francisco campus embodied this ideal—embedding students in Silicon Valley’s entrepreneurial ecosystem and creating interdisciplinary collaborations between journalists and engineers.
By retreating from San Francisco, Northwestern is not just closing a building; it’s closing doors of opportunity. In an era of increasing global competition, we cannot afford to shrink our educational footprint, especially in innovation hubs like the Bay Area. When political pressures and funding freezes force universities to make such decisions, we all lose—students, faculty, local communities, and ultimately, our national competitive edge.
For me, Northwestern’s San Francisco campus represented something deeply personal—a connection to my formative years at Kellogg, a reminder of the values and excellence that shaped my professional life. When institutions of higher learning are forced to make decisions based on political winds rather than educational merit, we diminish what makes our education system truly great.
The closure of Northwestern’s San Francisco campus should serve as a warning. If we continue to use education funding as a political tool rather than an essential investment in our collective future, we risk dismantling the very infrastructure that has made American higher education the envy of the world. The consequences will extend far beyond disappointed students or nostalgic alumni—they will reshape our capacity for innovation, economic growth, and global leadership.
As we face increasing competition from other nations investing heavily in education and research, America cannot afford to retreat. For the sake of our economy, our global standing, and generations of students to come, we must recognize higher education for what it truly is: not a partisan battleground, but the foundation of our shared prosperity.
