By Julianne Malveaux
(Trice Edney Wire) – Washington is talking about spending $200 billion on war. That number rolls off the tongue easily in Washington, where policymakers casually toss around figures—millions, billions, trillions. But numbers that large lose their meaning unless we slow down long enough to put them in context.
We throw numbers around—millions, billions, trillions—but they don’t mean much unless we put them in context. Two hundred billion dollars — that’s 200,000 million. What could we do with 200,000 million dollars?
That amount of money could transform the student debt crisis in this country. It could provide real relief to millions of borrowers who are struggling to keep their heads above water while paying loans that often feel impossible to escape.
There is about $1.7 trillion in student loan debt in the United States today. More than 40 million people carry that burden. For many of them, student loans are not simply a monthly payment. They are a barrier to buying a home, starting a business, saving for retirement, or even beginning a family.
For Black borrowers, the situation is even more severe. Because of the racial wealth gap, Black students borrow more to attend college. Because discrimination persists in the labor market, they often earn less after graduation. And because of those two realities, their loans linger longer. Research shows that four years after graduation, the typical Black borrower often owes more than they originally borrowed, while white borrowers have usually begun to reduce their balances.
Student debt has quietly become another engine driving the racial wealth gap wider. It doesn’t just burden individuals—it deepens the very gap policymakers claim they want to close. When education requires debt and wealth determines who can borrow safely, the system quietly reproduces the inequality it claims to solve.
Yet when the subject turns to student debt relief, Washington suddenly becomes cautious. We hear lectures about fiscal responsibility, warnings about moral hazard, and endless debates about whether relief would somehow be unfair. But fairness rarely enters the conversation when the subject is military spending.
When war funding is on the table, Congress can move quickly. When it comes to helping ordinary people—especially young people trying to build a future—the urgency disappears.
Student debt is not only a personal burden; it is also an economic issue. When millions of people are saddled with debt, they spend less, delay buying homes, postpone entrepreneurship, and make career choices based on loan payments instead of passion or talent. In other words, student debt acts like a brake on economic dynamism.
We often hear politicians say that budgets reflect priorities. They are right. Show me your budget and I will tell you your values.
Right now, the values reflected in federal spending are unmistakable. Billions can be mobilized quickly for war. Trillions have been allocated over the years for tax cuts and corporate subsidies. But when it comes to relieving the financial burden carried by millions of students—disproportionately Black students—the conversation suddenly becomes complicated.
Let’s go back to that number: two hundred billion dollars — 200,000 million.
What could we do with that kind of money if we truly cared about opportunity?
Student debt is only one place we could invest those resources. The possibilities go far beyond loan relief.
We could build hundreds of thousands of affordable homes. We could repair schools where children are still learning under leaking roofs and broken heating systems. We could strengthen hospitals and community health centers that serve the people who need them most. We could rebuild roads, bridges, and transit systems that are literally crumbling beneath us. And we could create millions of good jobs doing that work.
We could dramatically reduce student debt. We could expand access to education. We could narrow the racial wealth gap instead of widening it.
Budgets are moral documents. They reveal what we truly value—not just what we say we value. The numbers tell the story.
We can find 200,000 million dollars for war without hesitation. But when it comes to investing in the futures of our own young people, suddenly we become very careful with the math.
We say we care about opportunity. We say we care about education. We say we care about closing the racial wealth gap.
But budgets tell the truth.
Show me our budget, and I’ll tell you what we really value.
Or perhaps the question is even simpler:
If we can find 200,000 million dollars for war, why can’t we find the will to spend even a fraction of it building the future?
Dr. Julianne Malveaux is a DC based economist and author.
