Universities sometimes seem to have few political friends — unlike their debt-laden students. It is not hard to tell why. It is not only that individuals have the vote and institutions don’t. At times university leaders give the impression that all they care about is hanging on to the extra cash that higher fees have generated, even if this means their graduates face a lifetime of debt and the government has to pick up the bill for those who never repay their loans in full (and other public services have to suffer even greater cuts as a result).
But there may be a deeper reason for the indifference universities face from politicians, except as a football to be kicked in the faces of political opponents. Although it is tough to admit it, the move towards much wider access to higher education has turned into a bit of a disappointment.
The complaints are familiar — only the middle classes have benefited; students are being ripped off as universities prioritise research over teaching; students who don’t get into “top universities” are wasting their time; and so on, and on.
A lot of these complaints are unjust. But there may be just enough truth in some to explain this sense of disappointment — and the political indifference (for all the public protestations of support from all parties).
We have been successful in establishing a mass higher education system – but we have been much less successful in creating a proper system of lifelong learning.
The winners have been young, full-time (and more privileged) students who want, or are able, to attend large-campus universities in big cities. The losers have been older, less privileged and, especially, part-time students who want, or need, to study locally.
The figures tell it all. The number of full-time students has increased despite the trebling of fees – maybe because no one has to pay them; they just have to pay higher taxes later. But part-time numbers have collapsed.
“Going to uni”, it sometimes seems, has become a lifestyle choice as much as anything else. The government’s quasi-market policies have encouraged students to redefine themselves as customers, a standpoint that, conveniently, strengthens the case for making them pay.
But other students who should have benefited most from wider access are the losers, because they don’t fit in. They are not indulging in lifestyle choices. They want to be serious students. Often they don’t want a full “uni” experience, although that does not mean they should be fobbed off with some form of sub-prime higher education that makes hedge funds rich.
Once they could turn to adult education. But, like public libraries, adult education has been cut to the bone. Local authorities have no money to spend on discretionary services. Most colleges that took over adult education institutes struggle to fit them into their corporate strategies, except perhaps as short course units. Universities with once famous extramural departments take the same line.
Or they could have turned to further education. Colleges are the key to the delivery of distributed higher education in many cities and regions, as providers of certificate, diploma, foundation and non-degree professional courses, which many universities are now too proud (or nervous) to offer. But, once again, commercialisation has been the enemy of lifelong learning.
It is too simple to say that mass higher education has squeezed out (liberal) adult education and more progressive and community forms of further education. The original hope had been that it would provide a “big tent” in which all these strands and traditions could flourish, approximately what has happened in the US.
But this has occurred much less here in Britain. The forces of privilege, hierarchy and condescension have often been too strong. Those post-1992 universities that have tried hardest to remain true to their roots have suffered most in esteem. Even established institutions with nothing to apologise for, such as the Open University and Birkbeck, have been forced to re-invent themselves along more conventional lines.
The result is a mass system that is also monolithic, although riven by snobbish hierarchies. The so-called market is making it more monolithic. It’s not a system that readily attracts public affection.
Peter Scott is professor of higher education studies at the UCL Institute of Education