Lost in Transition

This past June, my wife and I travelled to Finland to watch one of our kids, Jake, graduate with their master’s degree from the University of Helsinki. Before the ceremony, with a little time to spare, I set out to do what any college union professional would while visiting a new city: find the student union. I’d heard for years that Helsinki’s union was among the best in Europe, so naturally I wanted to see it for myself.

Google Maps walked me right up to an impressive building with decorative architectural sculptures perched above the entrance, the kind of facade that makes you stop and take a picture. However, it was a hotel, not the union. I found another entrance, and walking down the hall came across a sign referencing the student union, but nothing that looked like an actual functioning union. There was no student traffic, no posted events, no clear entrance to anything resembling the union. It wasn’t the hub of activity I expected. Confused, and running short on time before the ceremony, I gave up the search and headed to campus.

At the ceremony, I had a proud parent moment as Jake was honored to give the student speech. In it, they discussed what is involved with transitioning and invited the audience to be in transition. “It can be uncomfortable, slow, confusing, and wonderful. But I think this is where we live. So, let’s be in it.” They noted the current and historical challenge of being in unstable times, the reality that we don’t know what the future holds, and that transition is a process with no clear endpoint.

Following Jake was the alumni speaker, Lydia Lehtola, a Finnish singer-songwriter mentioned her sadness in losing the university’s student union building, how much it had meant to her as a student, and how connected she’d felt within its walls. It was my first clue that something significant had changed, and that my confusing afternoon wandering around Helsinki had a bigger story behind it.

The Student Union of the University of Helsinki was founded in 1868 and for much of its history was considered one of the richest student unions in the world. For more than a century, the union owned prime real estate across central Helsinki, with revenues used to fund student services and keep membership fees low. About a decade ago, the union set an ambitious goal to eliminate membership fees entirely by 2025 by leaning harder into its property investments. 

What wasn’t expected was the pandemic, the war in Ukraine, and the resulting spike in interest rates, all of which negatively impacted the union’s real estate projects, including a hotel conversion inside its own New Student House. That hotel must have been the building I wandered into looking for the union. In short, banks pressured the union to sell their properties to pay off outstanding debt, and the idea of eliminating membership fees backfired due to unintended consequences, causing the loss of historic union buildings that had housed generations of clubs, late-night gatherings, and many memories.

I don’t know enough about the Helsinki union’s specific decisions to judge whether a different call would have saved the buildings, and it’s not my place. It does make me think about the complexities for us operating college unions, the great challenge of delivering programs and services and paying for them, and the thin line that separates wise stewardship from unintended consequence, especially when a union’s business operations are what fund its actual mission.

College unions have different funding models, often involving a combination of institution fee-based resources and generated revenue from offered services. Dining, retail, hotels, conference services, and bookstores generate revenue that in turn supports student programs. Maintaining and growing revenue can be a challenge and is certainly on the minds of union directors. In fact, having attended joint director meetings for over 20 years one of the most common questions asked is, “What are some examples of creative and successful revenue generation?” We are always looking for every opportunity to support our students through programs and services at the union, and revenue generation is part of a means to that end.

The Helsinki union’s story is an extreme version of a bet many of us make in some form, leaning on business operations to protect the mission. It is necessary for most unions, and certainly there are risks involved with pursuing any business endeavor. In hindsight, I imagine leaders at the Helsinki union might have been more cautious and might have incorporated more diversification into their business enterprises. The idea of the student union having no membership fees was admirable, as was their courage to invest in a real estate business that had previously proven to be successful. However, as Jake noted in their speech, we don’t know what the future holds, and unfortunately Helsinki’s coincided with external circumstances that altered the future of its student union in profound ways.

It is helpful, I think, to apply Jake’s reflections on transitioning to the college union, as the world is constantly changing, affecting our programs, services, operations, and ultimately our work to advance campus community. Similar to what Jake noted for individuals, transition for the college union can be uncomfortable, slow, confusing, and wonderful. It is a process with no clear endpoint. We encounter shifting student needs, tighter budgets, new technology, and evolving expectations of what campus community space should look like. None of us can predict exactly what the next decade holds, any more than Helsinki’s leaders could have foreseen a pandemic, a war, and a spike in interest rates converging all at once. But if we hold onto why we exist, to support student success and advance campus community, we can navigate whatever comes our way. Even during transition, the constant, I think, is to maintain our focus on the role of the college union.