If universities aren’t a priority, at least give them certainty

So, Labour Party conference is upon us – again.

If you work in higher education, there is a reasonable question to ask: how many prime ministers does it take to change higher education policy?

When Labour came to power, there was genuine optimism across the sector. After years of being treated as a convenient political punching bag, there was a feeling that perhaps this time would be different.

Labour talked about universities as engines of growth, skills, opportunity, and regional development. That was welcome. But although we are already on to our second prime minister, the underlying financial pressures facing universities have continued to grow. And, so far, Andy Burnham hasn't shown much appetite to spend his precious political capital on fixing them.

There have been some positive changes. The tuition fee cap has finally increased after years in the freezer. Maintenance support has increased and targeted maintenance grants are returning for lower-income students. The Lifelong Learning Entitlement is becoming a reality.

These aren't insignificant changes. But they don't answer the bigger question: how do you sustain a high-quality mass higher education system when the value of the funding underpinning it is being steadily eroded?

Universities don't have the luxury of waiting for the answer. They are already adapting: restructures, savings, voluntary redundancy schemes, course reviews, recruitment freezes, and difficult decisions about where to focus resources.

We thought this time would be different – it hasn't been. Perhaps we need to accept an uncomfortable reality: higher education simply isn't high enough up the government's political priority list.

That doesn't mean universities should stop making the case for sustainable funding. And it certainly doesn't mean I think a smaller or weaker university sector is desirable. Quite the opposite. But it does mean thinking about what we ask government to do next.

What cuts through

There is a slightly uncomfortable lesson in all of this.

Shedding thousands of university jobs – many in towns and cities represented by Labour MPs – doesn't appear to have generated much political urgency. The government's position is clear: universities are autonomous institutions, so ministers don't intervene in workforce decisions.

Except compare that with steel and manufacturing, something close to my heart as an adopted Sheffield local. When thousands of industrial jobs are threatened, ministers rush to the dispatch box. There are emergency meetings, taskforces, and talk of protecting communities and Britain's economic future. The government recently announced plans to acquire Speciality Steel UK, supporting more than 1,300 jobs. The language was unequivocal: “inaction is not an option.” And rightly so.

But when a university announces job losses on a similar scale, Whitehall barely looks up from its inbox, despite universities being major employers, economic anchors, skills providers, and drivers of innovation.

The reality is that higher education is competing with social care, defence, prison capacity, and a long list of other political priorities.

We probably aren't going to win that queue-jumping competition by shouting louder – perhaps it is time to change the question.

Time for certainty

This isn't an argument for government to walk away from higher education.

Nor is it an argument for accepting a smaller sector as some kind of inevitable outcome. We all should want a strong, sustainable university sector, able to educate more people, support economic growth, and transform communities.

But if government is prepared to accept a different, leaner and potentially smaller higher education sector, we should understand what that means. A smaller sector isn't simply fewer institutions or fewer people on university payrolls.

It could mean fewer opportunities to study locally. Courses disappearing from particular towns and cities. Less capacity to train the nurses, teachers, engineers, and health professionals the economy needs.

It could mean less research and innovation capacity outside the biggest cities. Fewer university jobs. Less spending in local economies. Fewer partnerships with businesses, councils, and the NHS.

Ultimately, it could mean fewer opportunities for the people and places universities serve. None of that means every course or institution should be protected regardless of demand, quality or cost. Universities have to change, and some provision will inevitably evolve.

But we should be very careful about treating a smaller university sector as an abstract financial adjustment.

Its consequences will be felt by students, employers, communities, and regional economies – often in places where the government is simultaneously asking universities to help grow. That is why the size and shape of the future sector needs to be discussed openly, rather than emerging by accident from a series of individual financial decisions.

Tell us what you want the sector to look like in five or ten years.

The rules of the game

Government doesn't have to choose the future universities would choose.

But if it is prepared to accept a smaller or different sector, we need to understand what that means – for students, skills, research, jobs, and regional economies. Those choices should be made deliberately, not emerge from a series of short-term financial pressures.

Universities are already changing. They are collaborating, consolidating and reviewing provision. What they need is enough certainty to make those decisions for the long term. Because universities can adapt to change. What they struggle with is planning when the destination keeps moving.

Over the last 24 months, universities have faced a large increase in national insurance contributions; tighter international student visa rules and refusal thresholds; a potential £925 international student levy; the withdrawal of public funding for level 7 apprenticeships; and tighter controls on foundation-year fees.

Taken individually, these financial hand grenades present a challenge. Together, they require some fundamental shifts in business planning. As Labour gathers in Liverpool, the question shouldn't simply be “what is Labour going to do for higher education?”

It should be: what certainty can government give universities about the future?

But that doesn't mean the conversation is over. Perhaps the most realistic ask now is also the simplest: if universities aren't a priority, at least give them certainty.

Tell us the rules of the game. Be clear about the future you are creating. Then let universities get on with doing what they do best: educating people, supporting their communities, growing economies, and helping build the future.

It isn't quite the rescue plan some of us hoped for, but at least we'd know where we're going.