A few weeks ago, I went to a stand-up comedy show with my cousin Josh. As we were talking on the car ride home, he stumbled upon what I think might be the most simple way to combat municipal poverty that I have ever heard, as well as a truly brilliant public relations strategy for whatever school is crazy enough to try it. 

The following are his ideas.

Josh is from Providence, R.I., the home of Brown University, one of the most prestigious Ivy League institutions in the country. 

Brown attracts some of the most highly gifted students in the world, but like almost all university students, they pay an exorbitant amount of money for their degree. The university’s website estimates the total cost of attending one year at Brown (books, room and board included) to be $62,694, meaning that a four-year bachelor’s degree student is paying over $250,000 to the college. To be fair, 46 percent of Brown’s class of 2017 receives need-based financial aid with an average package of around $40,000, but that is still over $50 million dollars being paid into the school each year by the sophomore class alone. And that’s after some generous rounding.

Brown, like most private universities, is exempt from paying taxes to the city of Providence. The school pays $1.274 million to the city voluntarily but does not pay any property tax on any of its 146 acres or 236 buildings. To give some perspective on the city’s poverty, Providence currently totes a 9.5 percent unemployment rate, the fifth highest in a state that only last week lost the dubious title of most unemployed state in the union. Providence Mayor Angel Tavares noted in February 2012 that “It takes the revenue collected from 19,000 taxpayers…to account for the $38 million in property taxes not paid by Brown University.” That was two years ago, when the city deficit was roughly $22.5 million, instead of it’s currently projected $38 million deficit for the 2014 to 2015 fiscal year, according to the Providence Journal.

It’s a cruel irony that often the most wealthy and prestigious colleges are housed in poverty-stricken cities. Walk three blocks away from the colossal towers and grand brick walls of Yale University in my hometown of New Haven, Conn., and you are surrounded by some of the poorest low-cost housing projects in Connecticut. 

Many of the occupants of these neighborhoods work for Yale as janitors, cooks or secretaries, and very few of their children are among the lucky 7.1 percent of admitted Yalies. The university is one of the driving forces of New Haven’s economy, yet under federal tax law it is not strictly considered to be a business.

Why? What separates the modern university from any other business? It’s an institution that takes in money from a consumer base in order to perform a service; giving that consumer skills and knowledge which make them a more capable worker and member of society. Colleges spend thousands of dollars on advertising each year, and they carefully cultivate a brand in the minds of their applicants—party school, sports school, arts school, the all-important, completely meaningless title of “Ivy League”—in order to appeal to whatever subset of their market a school thinks they can earn.  

The currently understood definition of a “for-profit university” is a despicable thing, but there are few fundamental differences in the mechanics of how for-profit and nonprofit schools work.

It’s hard to see a practical reason for why universities need tax exemptions. How can a college, a towering multimillion dollar icon, be considered the same as a church or library? Many places of worship accept small fees from their congregants, yes, but they are also heavily reliant on donations to make ends meet. Libraries charge for overdue books but never more than a few dollars. 

Certainly, no one has ever had to take out a federal loan because they kept a book for too long or because they can’t afford to attend services. 

Colleges rely on donations, sure, but they also own hundreds of buildings and employ hundreds of workers. Churches and libraries need charity just to keep their basic functions running. The reason, therefore, that universities are tax-exempt is purely ethical. The government wishes to support the efforts of citizens who educate those around them. And while this is a perfectly noble goal, in a time of staggering economic downturn, it isn’t exactly practical.

However, it may be even less practical to suddenly change the tax code and immediately charge universities. 

A shift like that would inevitably mean massive layoffs, probably at the expense of the very working-class people such a change would try to help. It would mean higher tuitions and reduced financial aid opportunities for those working-class people’s children, as schools scramble to meet a bottom line. It would make the problem even worse in the name of trying to solve it.

Thus we arrive back at my cousin, and his public relations genius. Think for a moment what would happen if a wealthy, four-year university suddenly announced its decision to give back to the community around it, and to voluntarily pay even a part of its would-be full tax payments to the city. Think what would happen if that university decided to do this without raising tuition, at least more than the amount by which tuition already rises per year. Think what would happen if the school demanded that the money be used to rebuild and improve poverty-stricken areas. 

In the short term, it would be financial suicide for the college. In the long term, it would be one of the most powerful images of a university living up to the lofty ideals of charity, trust and democracy which its professors and presidents preach. 

It would shatter the old cliché of the ivory tower of education. It would implicitly challenge similar universities to do the same, while ensuring that the first school is remembered as a trend setter. 

Think how many alienated alumni would be inspired by such a move. Think how many wealthy donors would want to be associated with such a bold university. Think how many high school seniors, casting out aimlessly into the sea of schools to apply to, would become interested in a college they see making positive headlines. 

Would it be an instant solution to all problems in the city? Of course not. Would it permanently sanctify a university’s public image? No. 

But it would give municipal governments the funds they need to significantly combat important issues, and would make quite an impression on anyone that sees the news coverage. 

Waltham’s unemployment rate is 4.4 percent, and Brandeis owns 236 acres of its land. Given time and careful planning, a strategy like this could go a long way toward helping the people of Waltham, and healing Brandeis’ recently troubled public image. As I said at the top, my cousin Josh came up with this, and all credit goes to him. Then again, if it does happen and all fails, he’s the one you want to blame.