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In 2011, former Review editor Quinn Slack proposed "Activity Vouchers," a system allowing students to direct their ASSU fees to clubs they value rather than funding all organizations through rubber-stamp elections. Fifteen years later, the case for his proposal has only strengthened.
Every quarter, Stanford extracts $240 from every undergraduate student for the Associated Students of Stanford University (ASSU) to distribute among student organizations. A perfunctory, unadvertised waiver (which I encourage students to use) lies buried on the ASSU’s website. While this form can technically be used to refund this fee, it makes opting out tedious, forcing students to click a long list of individual check boxes with no “decline all” option. For the vast majority of students, this is compulsory funding for organizations they may never use, have never heard of, or would find objectionable.
Each spring, ASSU elections determine which clubs receive annual grants, 219 total organizations for the 2025-2026 academic year. Turnout is exceptionally low. Just 17.79% of students voted last year, with most simply clicking "approve all grants" rather than evaluating each organization. Hundreds of other clubs bypass elections entirely and receive grants approved by the ASSU’s legislative bodies. The result is a “democratic” system for club funding where the vast majority of student fee revenue is allocated either by rubber-stamp election or a tiny group of ASSU officials, while the 82% of students who never voted pay the full $240 regardless. Most students are left unwittingly funding clubs that they’ve never heard of, unless they figure out how to wade through the high-friction opt-out bureaucracy.
Even more objectionably, certain “service organizations” directly chartered by the ASSU entirely avoid student voting by using legislative appropriations. The Student Health Peer Resource Center, for instance, received $50,000 from its ASSU reserve funding this past September, despite not appearing on the ballot for an Annual Grant in 2023. These funds cover operating costs, facilitating the distribution of subsidized sex toys and organization of events such as the annual “Sex Week,” which has in the past included highlights like “Are You Smarter Than a Sexpert?”
There is a better way. In his 1955 essay “The Role of Government in Education,” Milton Friedman noted that universal funding need not mean centralized allocation. A system of vouchers can ensure the provision of public goods while incorporating market efficiency and allowing taxpayers to choose which programs their money is directed toward.
The same principle can apply to the ASSU. Here is my proposal, building from Slack’s framework: eliminate the waiver, but let students direct their fees, with financial aid continuing to cover those who qualify. Cutting an opt-out mechanism while expanding choice might seem paradoxical, but the current process is merely an obstacle course that few students navigate.
Each fall, the ASSU would advertise a funding allocation form. Students would then be able to allocate their $720 per year across organizations as they choose, with an easy-to-use interface that lets them fund all clubs, blocks of related clubs, or individual clubs. Non-participants would receive a default allocation based on current funding petitions, or, as Slack suggested, the average of participating students' choices could be used to match grants to demonstrated preferences.
The chief benefit to students is clear. Eschewing a murky process of apathetic democracy (which is no democracy at all), students can directly support the groups they want and withhold funding from those they object to. This system also incentivizes positive changes in club behavior. If student organizations want funding, they must either broaden their appeal or deepen their connection to their core audience. Either way, the result is a more dynamic ecosystem driven by supply and demand.
The same paternalism that shapes ASSU funding also governs outside fundraising. University policy prohibits student organizations from soliciting alumni donations, limiting them to unsolicited gifts directed through the Stanford Fund. Corporate donations are capped at $3,000 and require approval a full quarter in advance. Crowdfunding is outright banned. The Stanford Fund Partnership Program exists, by its own description, "in lieu of having students fundraise externally." The Office of Development surely does not want students trying to eat its pie, nor does the Alumni Association want students bothering its members.
If clubs must compete for student funding under a voucher system, they should also be free to compete for outside support. Removing these restrictions would incentivize clubs to maintain alumni networks, allow capital-intensive organizations like Stanford Space Initiative more latitude to pursue ambitious projects, and teach students the invaluable real-world skill of cultivating donors. Some clubs will undoubtedly receive less funding from the ASSU under this voucher system, which is itself valuable feedback about student interests. But the freedom to externally fundraise opens new avenues to make up the difference.
The final benefit is transparency. The ASSU manages millions in student funds through a bureaucratic grant process that few understand and fewer scrutinize. A voucher system, paired with the removal of fundraising caps, would make allocation voluntary, individual, and reflective of the Stanford community's priorities.
Slack wrote in 2011 that "more details need to be worked out, to be sure, but let's work them out." Fifteen years later, the problems he identified remain unaddressed. If anything, they've worsened. The ASSU proudly proclaims itself "the only organization at Stanford of which every student is a member." Currently, that just means you get a bill. It should mean you get a say.
