British universities are in crisis. Despite their strong international reputation, many are facing financial pressures, falling international recruitment, staff redundancies and worsening working conditions. Student fees are among the highest in the world, yet a degree no longer guarantees secure middle-class employment.
Critics on the right argue that universities have expanded too far, offering “useless” degrees and promoting fashionable political ideas. The Prime Minister wants a new focus on vocational education. And now the death of a black Cambridge professor involved in a row over alleged plagiarism has intensified the focus. Do we have too many universities, or have we failed to decide clearly what universities are for.
Our oldest institutions
Universities are among humanity’s oldest institutions. They have existed longer than the nation state, democracy or capitalism. Their predecessors – the great library of Alexandria and the academy of Athens – predate Christianity. We owe the foundations of our sciences to the Islamic libraries of 10th century Córdoba, and our oldest universities – Bologna, Oxford, and Paris – have existed continuously for more than 900 years, longer than any European state.
The myth
People often think of universities primarily as teaching institutions, but that is only one of three traditional functions. They create knowledge through research; they preserve it through scholarship, publication, libraries and museums; and they transmit it through teaching. At its best, academics working at the boundaries of their subjects introduce students to the latest discoveries while giving them the skills to create new knowledge themselves.
Some research has immediate practical value, generating technologies, industries and economic growth. In a typical year UK universities register 1,500 patents from their research, and generate £300m from their intellectual property. Some of it spins off into new companies. Research in the humanities and social sciences helps us to understand ourselves and our world. And there is research driven by pure curiosity, some of which will later prove useful in ways that could not have been predicted. And academics’ work is constantly scrutinised and debated by their peers.
Universities also provide qualifications. Graduates in fields like medicine and engineering are certified as having the technical knowledge and practical skills required to practice. And whatever the subject, we expect a graduate to be someone with a broad set of abilities that are valuable across the economy and society: critical thinking, assessing evidence, constructing arguments, organising information and communicating clearly.
The change
Perhaps this ideal describes British higher education as it was in 1960. But since then, the system has been transformed. Twenty-two universities have become more than 140. Then, 3% of young people went to university, now it is over 50%.
And that has changed the experience. In 1960 a typical undergraduate joined a community of 5,000 students on a single site, with opportunities to meet and share ideas across subject boundaries. Today, the average university has 17,000 students, often spread across multiple locations, and even countries. With over 40,000 students, the four biggest UK universities are the size of towns like Hatfield and Kings Lynn. The opportunities for sharing ideas across disciplines are reduced.
The system expanded for two reasons: economic and ideological. Governments believed that future prosperity would depend on a highly skilled workforce. A general expansion would support growth in both established fields and new ones. And in a country which has always attached social status to academic, rather than practical, skills, expanding higher education could enable working-class and disadvantaged students to access middle class status and professional employment.
In 1960, higher education was seen primarily as a public good, paid for by all taxpayers (as it still is in some European countries), because it helps create a healthy economy and society. But as political ideas changed, and the system expanded, a degree came to be seen as a private good, to be ‘bought’ by the individuals who benefited. So, in the 1990s, a kind of market emerged. Student fees were introduced, first as a token contribution, but progressively raised to a point where they are now among the highest of any public university system in the world. The typical graduate now leaves with a student loan debt of £53,000, and with interest accruing, many will be making repayments throughout their working life.
And the sector is now much more diverse. Some universities are research-intensive, while others specialise in vocational education, particular subjects or regional engagement. Some operate overseas campuses or international partnerships.
The operation of a market in higher education has led to a narrowing curriculum. Where student demand is falling, some universities have been closing departments and courses in the humanities and social sciences. In a globalising world, the closure of language departments is particularly unfortunate.
International institutions
British universities remain internationally successful. In the annual Times Higher Education ranking of global universities, 67 UK universities appear in the top half of the table, including three in the top ten and 11 in the top 100. Only the USA has more in these categories.
This reputation helps British universities to recruit distinguished academics and participate in international research. It also attracts overseas students, who make up approximately a quarter of the student population, partly drawn by English – the language of much research and higher education worldwide.
International students prop up the system’s finances. Because the government’s cap on UK student fee levels does not apply to international students, universities can charge them much higher fees. The Higher Education Policy Institute calculates that the total contribution of international students to the UK economy, in fees and living expenditure, is around £15bn a year: almost ten times the cost of providing the courses.
They also contribute to Britain’s soft power. Many return home with professional contacts and positive experiences of Britain on which to build lifelong personal and professional relationships.
However, although most international students leave the country after graduation, the UK government classifies international students as immigrants, making international student recruitment vulnerable to political anxieties about immigration, which is especially risky for the 16 institutions where more than 40% of students are international.
Could we close parts of the system?
Some argue that Britain should reduce the number of universities and eliminate courses without clear economic value. But economic value has never been the only purpose, and deciding which institutions or subjects qualify is not simple. Economic value is not always immediately visible, and apparently non-vocational subjects may develop skills or ideas that later prove important. And a healthy society requires not only scientific and technical development, but the understanding of what makes human life worthwhile which the humanities and social sciences offer.
Closure would also be complex. Universities have long-term commitments to students, staff, research funders and partners. Existing undergraduates would need to complete their courses, while research projects could be disrupted by the loss of specialist staff. And all universities have extensive specialised accommodation which would be difficult to repurpose.
And the damage to individual towns and cities would be comparable to the closure of a major industry. In many towns, universities are among the largest employers. They support highly skilled employment, generate ideas and technologies, and stimulate innovative local businesses. They typically support a range of cultural and educational activities, and the spending of their staff and students makes a major contribution to the local economy.
What do we want?
The expansion of higher education has brought universities into the lives of most families. Yet the system, and the institutions themselves, have changed out of all recognition, with relatively little public debate about what society expects from them. Issues about student numbers, academic standards, fees and research have often been discussed in isolation, without considering the institutions which bring them together, and what would be a proper funding balance between individuals and the state. And, as Andy Burnham has pointed out, in the pursuit of mass higher education, we have neglected the talents and aspirations of many young people.
But the answer is not to set arbitrary limits on the numbers of universities, or on the subjects on offer. Nor is it to simply allow the market of 18-year-old school leavers to determine what universities do. A coherent national strategy would recognise different institutional missions; maintain diversity of disciplines and promote innovation; protect teaching and research quality; support regional economies; widen access and maintain international research and teaching. And we need a funding model which does not leave generations of graduates with life-changing debt.
Of course, universities should be held accountable for poor teaching, weak management, and exaggerated claims about graduate outcomes. But individual failures do not prove that universities are unnecessary or that there are simply too many of them. In 1963, the Robbins report reviewed the whole system and launched its transformation. Perhaps it is time once again to ask what we want from the system, and how to make it possible.
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