What happens when universities stop asking questions?

For the last 15 years, I have used my knowledge as a barrister and former university lecturer to advise students on their academic appeals and misconduct cases.

In that time, I have seen the best and worst of student behaviour. I have dealt with students who paid others to write their entire PhDs and who recruited stand-ins to attend clinical placements.

I have encountered countless methods of cheating, from tiny notes hidden in pockets, to phones concealed in toilets, to modified ear protectors.

Only recently, a law student told me she had seen classmates slip earphones beneath their hijab during exams, whispering questions and receiving answers from a distant accomplice.

The ethics of representation

Occasionally, students ask me to act unethically on their behalf. I recall one student who had failed a resit exam and been withdrawn from his course.

In a moment of panic, he told the university that his parents had been killed in a terrible accident shortly before his exam. He begged me to repeat the lie in my formal appeal statement to the university. I refused.

As barristers, we will fight tooth and nail for our clients, whatever they have done, but only within the confines of the truth.

I remember one Russian client who had paid someone to write every single essay and eventually been caught. I explained that the evidence against him was strong, that the prospects of success were slim, and that I could not advise him to lie to the university.

He shook his head in disgust:

What is wrong with this country? In Russia, we pay the professor and everything is okay!

Recently, I had a conversation with a person – a non-lawyer – who had set up a university appeals business abroad. Like me, he had seen the underside of higher education.

He told me that students regularly cheat in the English language proficiency tests required by universities as a condition of entry. These tests ensure that students have sufficient command of English to cope with academic study.

According to him, cheating on these tests is widespread, with some companies approaching him directly with answers to the language tests.

He explained that there were several “university appeal services” in his home country offering forged medical certificates. They also provide fabricated “essay notes” for students wishing to convince their universities they had worked on an assignment.

With a plausible medical note or a set of backdated essay drafts, a dishonest student can present a convincing case for leniency or mitigation.

Despite many years in the business, I was horrified by these revelations. I searched online and quickly found websites that sell fake tests. Thus, Legit Certify states:

We help you legally obtain an official, verifiable TOEFL certificate without taking the test…The certificate is identical to one earned through exams, fully accepted by universities…

And DoctorsNoteStore.com offers, or £10.99:

…fake/replica sick notes in the United Kingdom and Australia.

Are universities aware of this? Do they know that some of their international students gain admission, or overturn decisions, on the basis of falsified or manipulated documents? What checks do they make to ensure the authenticity of medical and other documentary evidence?

Conflicts of interest

With 40 per cent of English universities in financial deficit, there is also the uncomfortable question of money. The revenue from international students is so significant that many institutions may struggle to survive without it.

This financial dependence creates a conflict of interest. If a university uncovers widespread cheating in English language tests, or if it learns that students gained entry or remained on a course with false credentials, how should it react? If it investigates properly, the findings may threaten the much-needed flow of income.

Handling the growing number of cases of misconduct and appeals is itself resource-intensive and costly. A professor friend of mine, who examines PhDs, told me that he never fails a PhD student because, in his words, “it’s not worth the hassle of an inevitable appeal”.

A university that turns a blind eye may preserve the balance sheet but corrodes academic standards.

Some universities take the issue seriously. They invest in resources to detect cheating, run hundreds of misconduct panel hearings, and occasionally expel students. However, I doubt all institutions appreciate the scale of the problem or the sophistication of the cheating industry.

There is an international trade in dishonesty that exploits the pressure on students to succeed and the reluctance of universities to jeopardise their financial health and reputation.

If universities are not already alive to this reality, they need to wake up. Every forged medical letter that passes unchecked, every essay or thesis written by a ghostwriter, every fraudulent placement report that slips through the net, undermines the credibility of the institution and the degree it awards.

Paying the price

The harm is not limited to universities themselves. Employers, patients, clients and the public at large may pay the price if unqualified or dishonest graduates enter professional roles. Who wants to hire a lawyer or engineer who cheated in their exams, or be treated by a doctor who paid someone to attend clinical placements for them?

The purpose of higher education is not simply to hand out degrees in exchange for fees but to cultivate knowledge and skill, to educate. If universities fail to address the growing industry of deception, they risk betraying that purpose.

The question is not whether students cheat – they plainly do and probably more than ever before with the advent of generative AI – but whether universities have the courage to confront it, even at the cost of short-term financial loss and reputational damage.