On a rainy June afternoon in Oslo, Emma, a postgraduate student from Minnesota, sat by her dorm window, scrolling through her monthly budget. Studying in Norway had always been her dream—but with tuition fees recently introduced for students outside the EU and EEA, that dream had come with a heavy price tag. High living costs in Norway only made things worse. But just as she was considering dropping one of her electives to save money, news broke that could change everything.
Norway’s Ministry of Higher Education and Science had announced a major policy shift. Universities would no longer be required to charge full-cost tuition fees to students from outside the EU-EEA. Instead, institutions would have the freedom to set their own fee levels based on their programs and recruitment needs.
This might sound like a technical adjustment, but in a country where education has long been regarded as a public good—not a market commodity—it signals something deeper: a tentative step back toward openness.
For decades, Norway’s approach to international education was guided by values of solidarity and global cooperation. Foreign students, especially those from developing countries, were welcomed as part of the country’s broader development aid strategy. That changed in 2022, when then-Minister for Higher Education and Research Ola Borten Moe pulled the plug on free tuition for non-EU/EEA students.
His argument was simple: “Other countries don’t do this, so why should we?” Alongside the policy change came a NOK 300 million (approx. USD 29 million) budget cut for higher education institutions, which were expected to make up the shortfall through tuition fees.
The impact was immediate. Enrollment from international students plummeted—by as much as 80% in some institutions. Universities struggled to attract students to vital programs like engineering, education, and healthcare. Meanwhile, tuition bills soared and prospective students from the Global South began to look elsewhere.
At the University of Oslo, Vice-Rector for Education Bjørn Stensaker acknowledged the problem: “We're not in this to make as much money as possible. Our mission is to offer a high-quality education to all students, and the current full-cost formula is flawed. More flexibility would help us find fairer prices.”
New Higher Education Minister Sigrun Aasland seems to agree. “Norway is a small country,” she said. “To thrive in education and research, we have to stay connected to the world. That means removing unnecessary barriers for international students and researchers.”
She pointed to recent changes already in place: international PhD students now have fewer restrictions when applying for jobs in Norway, and the previous requirement of 15 ECTS credits in Norwegian language has been scrapped for certain academic positions.
Still, not everyone is on board. Ola Borten Moe, the architect of the original tuition reform, lashed out at the new proposal, comparing it to Norway becoming “the Temu of higher education”—referring to the Chinese e-commerce platform known for ultra-low prices. “This policy sends the wrong message,” he warned. “It implies we can’t compete on quality, so we’re competing on price.”
He pointed to institutions like Harvard and Oxford that continue to attract international students based on academic excellence, not affordability.
But critics say that comparison is unfair. Professor Ivar Bleiklie, an expert on higher education policy from the University of Bergen, argues that Moe’s justification for scrapping tuition-free education ignored the policy’s humanitarian roots. “Norway never aimed to profit from international students. The policy was always rooted in development cooperation and knowledge sharing, especially with countries in the Global South.”
“Suggesting this shift is about competing on price is misleading,” Bleiklie said. “It misrepresents a policy correction as some kind of doomed economic strategy.”
Student organizations are also celebrating the change. The Norwegian Student Organisation (NSO) called it a major victory. “We’re losing talented students in key academic areas,” said NSO chair Kaja Ingdal Hovednak. “This is not just about fairness—it's about preserving Norway’s position as a global academic player. We need more bright minds, not more closed doors.”
She added, “Our ultimate goal is the full return of free education for all. Until then, we’ll fight to make sure the door stays open.”
For students like Emma, that message resonates. “I didn’t choose Norway because it was cheap,” she said. “I chose it because of the values, the teaching quality, the culture. But with the current costs, it’s almost impossible to stay.”
Her story isn’t unique. Tim, a master’s student in bioinformatics from Germany, nearly abandoned his plans to study in Bergen after seeing the tuition spike. “Luckily, I scraped together enough savings,” he said, “but I know many others who couldn’t.”
As Norway weighs its next move, one thing is clear: this isn’t just about balancing budgets. It’s about defining what kind of academic nation Norway wants to be—insular and exclusive, or open and engaged with the world.
Whether this latest proposal leads to the full restoration of tuition-free education remains to be seen. But for now, it signals that Norway may not be ready to shut the door on the world just yet.