In the past 15 years Britain has acquired a full-blown system of mass
higher education. There are now twice as many 25-year-olds with degrees as
there were 18-year-olds with A Levels in 1965. More than 40 per cent of
18-year-olds are set to enter higher education and the government's target
is for 50 per cent to do so by 2010.
This should make many people happy. British education has for years
been haunted by stories about our backwardness. But in higher education we
have now closed the gap with Japan in enrolment and graduation rates; we
have higher proportions enrolling than Germany or France, higher
proportions graduating than Italy or Sweden. The US still sends
proportionately more to college than we do, but we are about where they
stood in the early 1980s in terms of enrolments, and are neck-and-neck on
graduation rates.
However, British higher education starts the 21st century in a
despondent mood. In May, the warden of New
College, Oxford, Alan Ryan, leaving for a year's sabbatical at Stanford
University, argued that "no rational person would work in the
British higher education system". Salford,
one of the country's oldest technical universities, became the latest in a
long line to scale down their maths and science provision, in an attempt
to close a large financial deficit. And Imperial
College's rector, Richard Sykes, government adviser and former
chairman of GlaxoSmith Kline, pleaded with ministers in the Financial
Times to "do something radical" about a system in trouble.
Advertisement
Over £8 billion a year of taxpayers' money is now channelled into
higher education. We must surely be getting something from our move to a
mass system, whether it is faster economic growth, a fairer society or
more cultured citizens. But we urgently need to clarify what it is that we
are getting - and what, if things are going wrong, can be done about them?
The most important fact about university education is easy to spot.
University pays - or, to be more specific, it pays the individual. On
average, all over the world, university graduates are the ones who
succeed, in terms of both income and employment. The average earnings gap
between those with some higher education and those who never finished
upper secondary school ranges from over half as much again in egalitarian
Scandinavia to around double for the OECD as a whole, and to more than
double in Britain and the US. Moreover, throughout the world, a growing
proportion of desirable jobs are now graduate only. We needed more
graduates "to avoid losing competitive advantage", as the CBI
says; we now have the graduates, so everything is set fair.
Or perhaps not. It is true that the proportion of professional,
technical and managerial jobs has increased greatly in recent years. And
while non-graduate managers ran most of the developed world's companies in
the first half of the 20th century, and often in the second half too, they
no longer do so. Nonetheless, in the past 20 years, study after study has
confirmed that many of the jobs - typically a quarter to a third - which
were once non-graduate and are now graduate have made this change without
any equivalent change in the skills required or used.
What is more, within developed countries there is no clear link between
student numbers and growth rates, GDP per head or productivity. For
example, Switzerland, at the top of the income tree, has the lowest
university participation rates in the OECD; while the US, also near the
top, has the highest. Big increases in university numbers are at least as
likely to follow periods of rapid growth as they are to precede them:
Japan is a prime example.
So when a minister asserts that "We need more young people to go
to university because it is an economic necessity," he or she would
be hard pressed to back up the claim. Employers sometimes do need graduate
skills, but often they use graduate entry as a way of
"screening" applicants: that is, targeting people who have shown
application, and are assumed to be in the top half of the cohort
intellectually. They may miss candidates who have both these qualities,
and no degree, but finding them is too much trouble.
This is rational behaviour on employers' part, if not much to do with
the "knowledge society". But if the 1.9million students and 172
full-degree institutions in our new system are not about labour market
skills, might mass higher education at least be making Britain a more open
and equal society?
Advertisement
Selecting people on the basis of objectively measured results, not by
connection and family inheritance, has been one of the great achievements
of democratic societies. Surely one result of mass university education is
to deepen this trend. It may mean that degrees operate as a general entry
ticket to many jobs that don't need them. But isn't this better than the
alternative: management trainees who know a member of the board, articled
clerks whose parents can pay the fees, promotion from the ranks dependent
on favouritism?
This argument is rarely made by advocates of university expansion. And,
as a victory for fairness, this one doesn't stand much scrutiny. In every
developed country, expanding higher education has done less for equal
opportunity than one might expect - while steering large subsidies towards
the middle classes.
It is true that the absolute chances of a child from a working-class
family attending university have increased substantially since the 1950s
or indeed the 1970s - from about 1-in-50 to 1-in-20 to something close to
1-in-6. But the chances for a middle-class child have grown far more in
that same 50 years - from about 1-in-10 to 1-in-2 for the "social
class II" children with teachers or middle managers as parents, and
from 1in-5 to pretty near universal for the children of the upper middle
classes. The result is a student body in which the proportion of
undergraduates from non-manual homes is exactly the same as it was before
either the Robbins report expansion of "old" universities in the
1960s or the creation of the polytechnics (which became universities in
1992). This is in part because the manual working class now forms a
smaller part of the overall population than in 1965; but it is mostly
because of differential access.