University Kills the Press That Made It Famous to Save $300,000

For $300,000—roughly what three assistant professors cost, or 0.3% of a small university's operating budget—Bucknell University is willing to destroy what took 57 years and 1,200 books to build.

The Pennsylvania liberal arts college announced in August that it's shuttering Bucknell University Press by the end of this fiscal year. The reason? The university needs to "focus resources on our student-centered mission," according to Provost Wendy F. Sternberg.

But here's the paradox that has faculty, alumni, and academic publishing advocates up in arms: The press IS what made Bucknell special. It's what put this small Pennsylvania school on the international map. It's what differentiated it from dozens of other liberal arts colleges charging nearly $100,000 per year.

And now, in the name of proving return on investment to skeptical families, Bucknell is eliminating one of its best investments.

The Math That Doesn't Add Up

Let's talk numbers, since ROI is apparently what matters.

Bucknell University Press operates with two full-time employees and an annual budget of roughly $300,000. Its partner, Rutgers University Press, covers production costs and handles distribution. This is not a financial drain. It's barely a rounding error.

Meanwhile, Bucknell charges students close to $100,000 annually for tuition, room, and board. The university's total operating budget runs into the hundreds of millions. The press represents a fraction of a percent of institutional spending.

Yet Bucknell's administration argues the press doesn't align with the university's "core identity" as an undergraduate teaching institution. That it primarily serves "the scholarly community, and not Bucknell undergraduates," as university spokesperson Mike Ferlazzo told Inside Higher Ed.

This logic would be laughable if it weren't so dangerous.

"What distinguishes a university from a trade school or a high school is the life-changing education provided by researchers, scholars, and practitioners who are at the forefront of advancing the public good through the production and dissemination of knowledge," faculty, staff, and alumni wrote in a scathing letter to administrators. "Bucknell University Press is essential to this work."

They're right. And families paying $100,000 per year aren't sending their kids to a trade school. They're paying for prestige, for connection to cutting-edge scholarship, for the cachet of a name that matters in academic and professional circles.

Bucknell is about to make that name matter less.

How a Press Builds a University

Some scholars learned about Bucknell's existence through the university press.

"I remember encountering several works that were important for [Latin American studies] in graduate school and being delighted and surprised that this small liberal arts university down the road was publishing top-notch work in my field," said Bret Leraul, an assistant professor of comparative and digital humanities at Bucknell.

Read that again. A scholar discovered Bucknell—not through its admissions marketing, not through its athletic teams, not through its alumni network—but through the academic work its press published.

That's brand building money can't buy.

Founded in 1968, Bucknell University Press has published more than 1,200 titles across numerous disciplines. But it built its international reputation by becoming the go-to publisher for 18th-century studies and Latin American literature. Its book series "Transits: Literature, Thought & Culture 1650–1850" and "New Studies in the Age of Goethe" are recognized worldwide.

"For decades, it has promoted the name and brand of Bucknell University far and wide, amplifying the university's influence beyond that of similarly sized peers without presses and expanding recognition of the high value of a Bucknell degree," the Association of University Presses wrote in a statement.

This is the ROI administrators claim they're chasing: proof that a Bucknell degree is worth six figures. The press provided that proof for 57 years. Now it's being sacrificed in the name of demonstrating value.

The irony is suffocating.

The Student-Centered Argument Falls Apart

Bucknell's administration justifies the closure by invoking its teaching mission and commitment to undergraduates. But this argument ignores how universities actually work.

Over 130 Bucknell-affiliated scholars have published with the press since its founding. These aren't external researchers with no connection to students—they're the faculty teaching in Bucknell classrooms. Their research informs their teaching. Their scholarly credibility enhances the institution's reputation. Their ability to publish and advance in their fields keeps the university competitive in hiring.

For 25 years, scores of Bucknell students gained hands-on exposure to the publishing industry through a press internship program. Those students learned skills, built connections, and added prestigious experience to their resumes.

"Getting rid of the press sends a signal that scholarship is not valued unless it is narrowly student-centered, which is to say, students are getting return on investment," Leraul noted.

But who decides what constitutes ROI? Is it only what happens in a classroom? Does research that enhances faculty reputation and attracts better professors count? Does brand recognition that makes a degree more valuable in the job market factor in?

Apparently not, according to Bucknell's calculus.

The administration's position suggests that anything not directly, immediately, and measurably benefiting current undergraduates is expendable. By this logic, most of what makes a university a university—as opposed to a vocational training center—becomes vulnerable.

The Financial Crisis That Isn't

To be fair, Bucknell isn't making this decision in a vacuum. The university acknowledges "unsustainable" budget deficits, though administrators also note the institution is not in "imminent financial danger."

A report from Bucknell's 2025 Academic Planning Working Group cited familiar challenges: a shrinking pool of college-age students, declining public confidence in higher education, and pressure to justify costs approaching $100,000 annually.

"There are fewer families willing to pay the entire cost of a Bucknell education as our price tag approaches $100,000, even among those that have the capacity to do so," the report stated.

This is true across higher education. The demographic cliff is real. Public skepticism is growing. Institutions need to adapt.

But here's what's baffling: Bucknell's response to the challenge of justifying a $100,000 price tag is to eliminate something that justified the price.

The press cost $300,000 per year—less than the tuition of four students. Bucknell could find wealthy donors to fully endow the press with a $10 million gift (at 3% annual returns). It could incorporate press work more deliberately into undergraduate education, making the student connection more explicit. It could market the press more aggressively as evidence of the university's scholarly seriousness.

Instead, administrators chose the path of least resistance: cut it and move on.

When Prestige Becomes a Luxury

The decision reflects a troubling trend in higher education: treating prestige as a luxury rather than a necessity.

In an era of ROI obsession, universities increasingly view anything that doesn't generate direct revenue or serve immediate student needs as expendable. Research becomes an indulgence. Scholarly publishing becomes a vanity project. International reputation becomes nice-to-have rather than essential.

But prestige isn't decorative. It's functional. It's what attracts strong faculty, which improves education, which justifies high tuition, which funds operations. It's a flywheel that, once stopped, is extraordinarily difficult to restart.

Fewer than 3% of universities in the United States and Canada have their own presses. Bucknell was in that elite group. The press was proof that despite its small size, Bucknell punched above its weight class in scholarly importance.

Was that worth $300,000 per year? Ask the question differently: Is being distinctive worth $300,000 per year? Is international recognition worth $300,000 per year? Is giving faculty a competitive advantage in their careers worth $300,000 per year?

For Bucknell's administration, apparently not.

The Shared Governance Failure

Perhaps as troubling as the decision itself is how it was made.

Faculty describe the announcement as an "extraordinary breach of shared governance"—the principle that major academic decisions should involve faculty input, not just administrative decree.

The press closure was announced without meaningful faculty consultation. Planning conversations about academic restructuring were already underway when the provost dropped the bombshell. Faculty learned about it the same way everyone else did: through an email.

This top-down approach reveals how little administrators valued the press. If they'd viewed it as central to Bucknell's mission, they would have sought faculty input. Instead, they treated it as an administrative line item to be eliminated when budgets tightened.

The Association of University Presses, the American Society of Eighteenth-Century Studies, and the Goethe Society of North America have all written letters urging Bucknell to reconsider. The AUP even offered to help the university find alternative models for sustaining the press.

But so far, administrators haven't budged. The press has already stopped accepting new submissions. The closure timeline marches forward.

What Gets Lost

When Bucknell University Press closes, the university will save $300,000 per year. It will lose something far more valuable and far harder to quantify.

It will lose the mechanism through which its scholarly reputation was built over more than half a century. It will lose one of the few things that distinguished it from peer institutions. It will lose a venue for faculty advancement and student learning. It will lose the respect of scholars who viewed Bucknell as serious about academic inquiry.

"In a moment of strategic planning when we are called on to highlight and market our strengths, it seems counterproductive to eliminate one of the institutions that differentiates and distinguishes our university," faculty wrote.

They're being diplomatic. The truth is harsher: Bucknell is eliminating a strength to save money, then will spend far more trying to market strengths that are less distinctive.

The real cost of closing Bucknell University Press isn't $300,000. It's the decades of reputation-building that can't be recovered. It's the signal to prospective faculty that research doesn't matter here. It's the message to families paying $100,000 that prestige is negotiable when budgets tighten.

Some costs can't be measured in dollars. Bucknell is about to learn that lesson the hard way.

The Door Left Open

Provost Sternberg's announcement included a caveat: "the door remains open to alternative paths forward for the Bucknell Press at this time." She suggested the press might be "reimagined in a way that supports undergraduate education."

This language offers a glimmer of hope for those fighting to save the press. Several university presses—including those at Stanford, the University of Missouri, and the University of Akron—have reversed closure decisions after facing outcry.

But "reimagining" often means diminishing. A press reconfigured primarily around undergraduate education wouldn't be the internationally recognized publisher of cutting-edge 18th-century studies scholarship. It would be something smaller, less ambitious, less prestigious—essentially, the neutered version administrators seem to prefer.

Faculty are still hoping the university will fully reverse course. They're pointing to the letters from academic organizations, the outcry from scholars worldwide, and the fundamental misalignment between the closure and the university's stated goals.

Whether Bucknell's administration will listen remains to be seen. But the damage to the university's reputation has already begun.

The Broader Warning

Bucknell's decision should concern everyone in higher education—and everyone who cares about the production and dissemination of knowledge.

If a university can eliminate a 57-year-old press with an international reputation to save $300,000, what else is expendable? What other "luxuries" will be cut when budgets tighten further? How many universities will follow Bucknell's lead?

The answers should worry us all.

Because once prestige is gone, it doesn't come back for $300,000. It doesn't come back at all.

Bucknell University Press is scheduled to close by the end of the current fiscal year. Faculty have submitted a motion condemning the closure as a breach of shared governance, but the administration has not announced plans to reverse the decision.