In Tom Sharpe’s classic novel Porterhouse Blue a new master and his diversity-obsessed wife arrive determined to modernise a fictional Cambridge college infamous for its genteel corruption and intellectual indolence. The dons, supported by sinister alumnus Sir Cathcart D’Eath, set out to foil reform. They largely succeed against a backdrop of scandal and a spectacular explosion featuring hundreds of gas-filled condoms.
Re-reading Sharpe’s satire recently I was struck by how its central themes resonate as powerfully as they did when it was published in 1974. British universities, he shows, operate according to their own codes. Outsiders intrude in academic politics at their peril. In a further echo of Sharpe, there is once again about to be an almighty explosion.
Perhaps someone should give the universities minister Jo Johnson a copy of Porterhouse Blue to prepare him for the fight ahead over student fees, the inequitable loan system and skyrocketing pay for vice-chancellors and senior university managers.
With a Labour opposition that did well at the general election by championing students and promising to scrap fees, ministers fear that the conditions are set for a meltdown when term begins. And no wonder. At least Sharpe’s work was a satire. What has been going on in England’s universities since fees were jacked up to £9,000 per year by the coalition government is beyond a joke.
Rocketing fees have helped create a boom in university pay for the most senior managers, if not for regular academics. Despite a public-sector pay freeze lower down the chain, at least 1,254 vice-chancellors and senior staff earn more than £150,000, above the pay of the prime minister. The Bentley-driving gentleman who runs Bolton University gets £222,000 and does a breathtaking little lecture to the media on his status as a supposed role model for students.
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Lectures on high pay and aspiration are fine if the person pontificating does so from their perch in a private or public company with shareholders. But these are public universities that, let’s face it, live off the state with a flow of money for research and a fees system underpinned by Whitehall. Very few vice-chancellors would ever be poached by private businesses or a great American university.
“Some may pay back as much as £100,000 for their course
The flow of information about university pay is coming to light thanks to Lord Adonis, the Labour peer and education reformer who introduced fees at a maximum of £3,000 more than a decade ago. Critics say this makes him culpable. Adonis responds that fees were needed so that students contributed to costs as numbers in higher education expanded. Vice-chancellors wanted more than the £3,000 figure and persuaded George Osborne after the 2010 election to treble the maximum. To no one’s great surprise the universities all opted to charge right up to the limit.
Osborne will be lucky to escape scrutiny for his role in the government that created this mess. The Treasury stipulated that the interest rate charged should be 3 per cent above inflation (RPI), making it 6.1 per cent now. That is compounded annually, meaning the amount grows and interest is payable on the interest. The very highest paid need not worry about such trifles. The lowest earners will pay nothing back at all. The crunch comes in the middle, with those who become affluent but don’t earn a fortune. It is estimated by Adonis that some may end up paying as much as £100,000 for a course that cost a fraction of that. These are the teachers, public-sector managers and civil servants of the future. The first cohort graduated in 2015.
What can the government or regulators do? The Higher Education Funding Council for England informed Adonis that it has no leeway to intervene on pay, but it will examine poor governance.
As a pro-market reformist wary of excessive state intervention I would normally be expected to advocate a system of properly private universities unshackled from state interference, and vigorous competition to drive consumer choice and alternative funding models, along with a recognition that perhaps too many youngsters are going to university when they need to go into employment direct. Certainly more competition (on prices for courses) is desirable.
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But abstract thinking and free-market chin-stroking is, I’m afraid, about as much use as a chocolate fireguard in the face of this legitimate anger from students and their parents. Voters below the age of 40 feel they are the victims of a racket: in the housing market and in higher education too. The right cannot hope to appeal to the next generation without addressing both areas urgently and boldly.
Adonis is correct that before the lid blows off the pressure cooker the government should intervene and reduce fees, ignoring the squeals of universities that have plentiful reserves and scope for greater efficiency at the top. It should launch a swift investigation on value for money and the price of courses. If the vice-chancellors will not listen on pay the government should change the rules.
With rapid action it may just about be possible to salvage something of the fees system that is required to fund universities properly. But if it does too little, the government risks becoming the target of a social media storm this autumn, with marches whipped up by the Corbynistas and messy parliamentary warfare against ministers and the overpaid leadership of universities.
The fallout could make the aftermath of that fatal explosion in Porterhouse Blue, in which hundreds of burst condoms rain down on the quad, look dignified.