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Monthly Archives: May 2025


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The Harvard experience: could it happen here?

by GR Evans

On 1 May 2025 The Guardian headline read: ‘Trump administration exploits landmark civil rights act to fight universities’ diversity initiatives‘. What prevents a British King or Prime Minister from attempting to impose sanctions on universities?

US higher education is exposed both to presidential and to state interference. Government powers to intervene in US HE reside in presidential control of federal funding, which may come with conditions. Trump cannot simply shut down the Department of Education by executive order but it seems he can direct that the Department’s grant- and loan-giving functions are taken on by another government department.

As early as 2023 Donald Trump had said ‘We are going to choke off the money to schools that aid the Marxist assault on our American heritage and on Western civilization itself’. In response to campus protest he removed $400m of Columbia’s federal funding in March 2025 on the grounds that the University had failed to address the alleged ‘persistent harassment of Jewish students’. In April 2025 he gave orders to Ivy League universities, threatening withdrawal of funding if their teaching and research did not comply with Government policy as the President defined it and that their appointments should have regard to those expectations.

On 8 April the Washington Examiner reported a planned attempt to counter such action by legislation, that is to prevent Trump’s directives taking effect by amending the Higher Education Act of 1965 ‘to prohibit political litmus tests in accreditation of institutions of higher education and for other purposes.  On 10 April the Chronicle of Higher Education foresaw an Executive Order.

A letter to Harvard dated 11 April signed on behalf of the Department of Education and other federal agencies asserted that the United States had ‘invested in Harvard University’s operations’ because of ‘the value to the country’ of its work, but warned that ‘an investment is not an entitlement.’ This letter, if accepted, was to constitute ‘an agreement in principle’. Governance was to be ‘exclusively’ in the hands of those ‘tenured professors’ and ‘senior leadership’ who were ‘committed to the ‘changes indicated in this letter’. Its ‘hiring and related data’ and its student ‘admissions data’ were to be ‘shared with the federal Government’. International students ‘hostile to American values’ were not to be admitted and those already admitted  were to be reported to federal authorities. Policies on diversity, equity and inclusion were to end and student protest restricted.

Harvard and other Ivy League Universities were indignant. Harvard in particular rode the headlines for some days, objecting to the Government demand that it immediately agree:

to implement the Trump administration’s demands to overhaul the University’s governance and leadership, academic programs, admissions system, hiring process, and discipline system—with the promise of more demands to come

and thus ‘overtly seek to impose on Harvard University political views and policy preferences advanced by the Trump administration and commit the University to punishing disfavored speech’. There were reports that US academics were seeking to escape to employment in Canada,  the UK or Europe.

The American Association of Colleges and Universities(AACU), founded in 1915 as the Association of American Colleges, now has a wide-ranging  and international membership. It is a loose counterpart to the British Universities UK which also has a membership including an extensive range of higher education providers. The AACU issued a Call for Constructive Engagement on 22 April, 2025, but litigation was already in hand, with the President and Fellows of Harvard seeking declaratory and injunctive relief on 21 April. Harvard is listed as the plaintiff with a considerable list of defendants identified (paras 15-30). In its submission Harvard argued that:

American institutions of higher learning have in common the essential freedom to determine, on academic grounds, whom to admit and what is taught, how, and by whom

and that such ‘American institutions of higher learning’ were ‘essential to American prosperity’.

It stressed a ‘longstanding collaboration between universities such as Harvard and the federal government dating back to the Second World War’. It pointed to Harvard’s success in using federal funding to achieving significant research outcomes. The recent ‘broad attack of Government’ on ‘universities across America’, not only on Harvard and the other Ivy League Universities listed, had affected the ‘critical funding partnerships’ that made this invaluable research possible.

This case was being brought because, it was argued, the Government had been using ‘the withholding of federal funding as leverage to gain control of academic decision making at Harvard’. Harvard cited the Government’s letter of 11 April as demanding governance reform and a ‘third-party’ audit ‘of the viewpoints of Harvard’s student body, faculty, and staff’, followed by the hiring of new Faculty and admission of students whose views were satisfactory to the Government. It had asserted that teaching should be ‘to the Government’s satisfaction as determined in the Government’s sole discretion’ and to that end Harvard  should ‘terminate or reform its academic “programs” to the Government’s liking’. The Government had since ‘launched multiple investigations and other actions against Harvard’.  

The Government had ‘within hours of the Freeze Order ‘ended ‘$2.2 billion in multiyear grants and $60M in multiyear contract value to Harvard University’ and Harvard began receiving ‘stop work orders’. In order to bring a case against the Government it was essential for Harvard to establish that the Government’s action constituted a breach of public law. To that end it stated that the ‘Court has jurisdiction over Harvard’s claims’ because the University did not ‘seek money damages or an order mandating specific performance of any contract’, but:

an order declaring unlawful and setting aside sweeping agency action taken in violation of Harvard’s constitutional rights under the First Amendment and its rights guaranteed by statute and regulation.

Harvard stressed that even though it is a private university its research is federally funded ‘through a grant process administered by federal agencies’. It cited Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 which requires ‘a detailed and mandatory statutory framework’ of procedures to be followed. Harvard had its own procedures, added to or created in August, September and November 2024. Specifically in March 2025, Harvard released updated “Frequently Asked Questions” clarifying that both Jewish and Israeli identities are covered by the University’s Non-Discrimination Policy.

Harvard explained that it had attempted ‘collaboration’ in the weeks following the government letter and the Federal Task Force’s press release announcing campus visits. It had sought to arrange a meeting on the campus and that was scheduled for late April 2025, yet on April 20 it was reported that the ‘Trump administration has grown so furious with Harvard University’ that ‘it is planning to pull an additional $1 billion of the school’s funding for health research.’

Trump’s threatened sanctions concerned the future of Harvard’s funding. Harvard has endowments  of c$53 billion so any threat from Trump to reduce federal funding posed a limited risk to its future. However he made a further proposal on 18 April to remove Harvard’s exemption from Government tax on its income, which could have hit its normal operation harder.

The US counterpart to HMRC is its Internal Revenue Service (IRS). The IRS may grant tax-exempt status to a charitable, religious, scientific or literary organization, on condition that it refrains from campaigning or seeking to modify legislation. However, the President is not permitted to direct the IRS to conduct an investigation or audit. To that extent the counterbalancing of executive, legislative and judicial powers in the US seems to be holding.

Harvard was making its challenge at a time when the balance between the executive and the judiciary in the US had come into question in a number of cases where Trump’s executive orders sought to override the courts. It claimed that ‘the Freeze Order is part of a broader effort by the Government to punish Harvard for protecting its constitutional rights. … multiple news outlets have reported that the Internal Revenue Service is considering revoking its recognition of Harvard’s tax exempt status’. Representing 86 universities, the Presidents’ Alliance has filed an Amicus brief supporting the litigation.

Harvard sought in its litigation to have the Freeze Order declared unconstitutional and also the ‘unconstitutional conditions’ sought to be imposed  in the April 3 and April 11 and any action taken under it so far, also banning any future orders in the same vein. It pleaded six Counts, first a violation of the First Amendment in that the letters had targeted the ‘academic content that Harvard professors “teach students”’. Count 2 was that ‘even if the prerequisites of review under the Administrative Procedure Act were not satisfied, federal courts have the “equitable power” to “enjoin unconstitutional actions by state and federal officers.”’ Count 3 was that Title VI does not permit wholesale freezing of a recipient’s federal financial assistance. Instead, it requires that a “refusal to grant or to continue assistance” be “limited in its effect to the particular program, or part thereof, in which . . . noncompliance has been so found.” Count 4 was the Government’s failure to ‘comply with their own regulations before freezing Harvard’s federal financial assistance’. Count 5 alleged that the action had been arbitrary and capricious and Count 6 that it had been ultra vires.

At Indiana University a professor of Germanic studies was recently investigated under a state law after a student accused him of speech in support of Palestine.

Could this happen in the UK?

English higher education providers have their autonomy protected by the Higher Education and Research Act (2017)s.2 [HERA]. This legislation created the Office for Students, a non-departmental public body, whose nearest US counterpart is the Higher Learning Commission, an independent agency founded in 1895 which accredits higher education institutions. The University of Michigan, for example seeks, renewal of its accreditation from the Higher Learning Commission every ten years.

The Office for Students is both regulator and funder, and distributes Government funding to higher education providers. This may take into account ‘particular policy areas and government priorities. Yet HERA outlaws any attempt by the OfS to impose the restrictions Trump sought to impose on the universities of the USA.  English higher education providers must be free:

(i) to determine the content of particular courses and the manner in which they are taught, supervised and assessed,

(ii) to determine the criteria for the selection, appointment and dismissal of academic staff and apply those criteria in particular cases, and

(iii) to determine the criteria for the admission of students and apply those criteria in particular cases.

Academic staff in England also enjoy ‘freedom within the law’:

(i) to question and test received wisdom, and

(ii) to put forward new ideas and controversial or unpopular opinions,

without placing themselves in jeopardy of losing their jobs or privileges they may have at the providers.

There is some Government oversight. In protecting ‘the institutional autonomy of English higher e providers’, the Office for Students is subject to the ‘guidance’ of the Secretary of State, though Government requirements are held off by the legislative fencing.  The guidance of a higher education provider by the Office for Students:

must not relate to—

(a) particular parts of courses of study,

(b) the content of such courses,

(c) the manner in which they are taught, supervised or assessed,

(d) the criteria for the selection, appointment or dismissal of academic staff, or how they are applied, or

(e) the criteria for the admission of students, or how they are applied.

The legislation adds that:

guidance framed by reference to a particular course of study must not guide the OfS to perform a function in a way which prohibits or requires the provision of a particular course of study.

This seems to place universities safely out of reach of the kind of restrictions Trump sought to impose on Harvard and other Ivy League Universities, but the Office for Students is potentially able not only to set its Government funding levels but also affect its students’ access to loans from the Student Loans Company. That can certainly be at risk, for example in the case of the Oxford Business College, whose funding (via franchise arrangements) was blocked in April 2025 when it was found to have abused the student loan system by admitting unqualified students. (US accreditors do hold a lot of power, because universities must be accredited by a federally recognized agency in order to access federal student aid.)

Access to Government funding through the OfS requires listing by the Office for Students on its Register as an approved provider. The Office for Students did not impose its Conditions of Registration on pre-existing universities before including them in 2018 on its first Register under HERA. It simply treated them as proven acceptable providers of higher education. Each university duly publishes an account of its compliance (eg at Oxford) with the requirements which enable it to remain on the Office for Students Register. What might happen if they were found not to have done so? Short of removal from its Register the OfS has been known to impose fines, notably of more than £500,000 in the recent case of the University of Sussex when it was alleged to have failed to follow its own procedures designed to protect academic freedom.

Government oversight of the work of HE providers may overlap with or sit uneasily beside forms of ‘accreditation’ and ’qualification’. The accreditation of qualifications in the UK may be the responsibility of a number of ‘agencies’ external to HE providers, some of which are bodies offering professional qualifications. For example the Solicitors Regulation Authority keeps its own register of qualified solicitors. A university degree may not constitute a ‘qualification’ without the completion of further recognised study, some of which may be provided by the university itself, for example the Postgraduate Certificate in Education.

An area of ‘accreditation’ undergoing significant reform and expansion in the UK covers ‘skills’, including  apprenticeships. Not all universities offer their own apprenticeships, though they may recognise some of those available from other providers at Levels 4 and 5. Nevertheless ‘skills’ are potentially at risk of Government intervention. At the beginning of March 2025, the House of Lords was debating whether  ‘skills’ might benefit from the establishment of a ‘new executive agency’.

It was recognised that there would need to be a report from the Secretary of State  ‘containing draft proposals’ for an agency, ‘to be known as “Skills England”. Ian Sollom MPobjected that that that would represent ‘a significant centralising of power in the hands of the Secretary of State, without providing proper mechanisms for parliamentary oversight or accountability.’ A ‘statutory, departmental body would have more clout’, he argued.

An Institute for Apprenticeships and Technical Education (IfATE) already existed, but it was concerned with qualifications up to Level 5, short of degree-level 6. ‘Skills England’ was intended to begin work in April 2025. ‘When Skills England calls, will anybody answer the phone?’ asked HEPI, pointing to ‘limited autonomy, complex cross-departmental coordination, tensions between national and local priorities, and competing objectives between foundational and higher-level skills need’. Its ‘cross-departmental working’ with Government was unclear.

It looks as though some universities, at least, are safe from any initiative to interfere from above with the right to self-government and to determine what to teach and research. Harvard records a ‘revenue base’ of $65billion, with ‘federal funding ‘ as its largest source of support for research. The research income of Oxford, for example, is £778m, with commercial research income of £148m. That cannot compare with Harvard, but at least Oxford and some others will remain free to choose how to use that income for its academic purposes.

This is a modified version of an article first published by the Oxford Magazine No 477 in May 2025, republished with the permission of the editor and author.

SRHE member GR Evans is Emeritus Professor of Medieval Theology and Intellectual History in the University of Cambridge.


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A new way of addressing the enigma of student engagement

by Caroline Jones and Leonie Sweeney

Psychosocial and Academic Trust Alienation (PATA) Theory as a Methodological Lens

Higher education is experiencing post-pandemic challenges which have increased pressure on students in multifaceted and interconnecting ways (Jones & Bell, 2024). Existing research suggests that post-pandemic, students’ mental health and wellbeing has been significantly impacted (Chen & Lubock, 2022; Defeyter et al, 2021; Jones & Bell, 2025; McGiven & Shepherd, 2022; Nunn et al, 2021). This indicates that research into the field of higher education is needed more pro-actively than ever before, especially given the diverse student market.

Currently there is considerable research in the form of critique of policy trends or evaluation of the effectiveness of changes in practice; however, the PATA theory lens suggests an approach to research centring on the educational psychologies and intricacies of the student and the enigma of student engagement (Buckley, 2018; Jones & Nangah, 2020: McFarlane & Thomas, 2017).

Our recent article presents the PATA theory as a methodological lens through which higher education student behaviours, characteristics, and demographics can be researched. Furthermore, it provides an explanation of the PATA theory with specific links to student engagement. The idea of the PATA theory was first explored by Jones in 2017 and developed further in 2020 and 2021 in response to recognised issues faced relating to student engagement in widening participation student demographics. This research establishes the theory which can be applied to investigating the complexities of student demographics, with the aim being to develop knowledge and understanding of issues affecting students such as post-pandemic engagement.

Guidelines from the QAA (2018) state that due to the demographic of the students who attend each institution, student engagement needs to be interpreted and encouraged in response to student/higher education institutional need. Therefore, student engagement can be interpreted in a variety of ways, examining the links between time, energy and other properties invested by HEIs and students with the aims of cultivating the student experience, strengthening educational outcomes, encouraging development and raising student achievement. Positive student engagement can lead to successful student outcomes, lower attrition rates and improved social mobility, demonstrating the importance of research for understanding and investing in student engagement practices.

The PATA theory sits under the umbrella of alienation theory: it considers the individual student’s psychosocial status (self-concept/self-esteem levels) and has identified links to academic trust levels (Jones, 2021), particularly for students from the widening participation demographics or those who have experienced socio-economic disadvantage, see figure 1.

Figure 1. PATA Theory (Jones, 2021)

The PATA theory fits as a methodology within the realms of phenomenology as it enables researchers to present a narrative to represent the phenomena studied to extract significant statements from the data to formulate meaning. Neubauer, Witkop and Varpio (2019, p91) believe it is imperative for the researcher engaging in phenomenological research to be familiar with the philosophical ‘interpretations of human experience’, whilst Morrow, Rodriguez and King (2015, p644) advise that ‘descriptive phenomenology is especially valuable in areas where there is little existing research’. An additional crucial aspect of phenomenology is understanding that social reality has to be grounded in an individual’s encounters in authentic social situations. The focal point of the PATA theory lens research is to understand how students’ psychosocial status affects the academic trust of their higher education experiences and the relationships that arise out of the social exchanges therein, permitting researchers to construe the associations that the participants make.

This article analyses the PATA theory potential range of research methods that can be employed and used in higher education practice and is supported by three case vignette examples with reflection points.  For example, we would usually see student disengagement relating to activities such as non-attendance, but the PATA theory shows us that the concept of student engagement is much more complex and encourages higher education institutions and professionals to view the issue in a more holistic student-centred way rather than homogenously.

Additionally, post-Covid there has been a significant rise in the number of students presenting with mental health issues, with students struggling to attend and engage with their programmes of study. Currently, the assessment strategies used by HEIs for capturing student engagement fail accurately to measure both student engagement and sense of belonging. However, using the PATA theory as the research lens would provide a deeper insight into the post pandemic issues faced, by focussing on student alienation and the strengthening of trust between the student and the institution. HEIs could then scrutinise their existing on-campus experiences to aid the re-engagement process, and practice could be adapted to increase the student experience, such as including more pastoral 1:1 support time within the timetable.

Some further practical illustrations of how the PATA theory might influence our understanding or make a difference in practice are:

  • To understand potential psychological barriers to student engagement based on demographics, behaviours and characteristics.
  • To identify success stories of positive engagement where good practice can be disseminated or shared to improve student outcomes.
  • To take a deep dive into higher education practices, course or programmes to find out if there are specific teaching and learning barriers affecting students.
  • Provides time and space to analyse intricate needs of specific demographics; behaviours and characteristics such as impact of low tariff on entry gaps or previous educational experiences.
  • Can lead to bespoke action to address potential equality and inclusion concerns.
  • Can be used as an early intervention tool to support students’ re-engagement potentially contributing to reduced attrition and improvements in social mobility.
  • Can be used to explore wider societal issues that affect engagement

The PATA theory has its limitations, being a new and emerging theoretical perspective, and is very much open to academic critique. However, this concept does bring new insight to the complexities of the student community, the higher education institutional and political landscapes and could be used as a methodological lens to develop deeper knowledge and understanding of student engagement challenges. Whilst the PATA theory is a complex idea applied to a range of complex student issues, when the phenomenon is understood well, there is the potential to really make a difference to the educational outcomes for students. Furthermore, existing theories do not make connections between psychosocial status and academic trust which is where the PATA theory can contribute to a stronger understanding of the student phenomena.

The article on which this blog is based is

Jones, C. S., and Sweeney, L (2025) ‘The Psychosocial and Academic Trust Alienation (PATA) Theory: A new lens to research higher education student phenomena: behaviours, characteristics, and demographics’ Student Engagement in Higher Education Journal, 6(1), 79–110 https://sehej.raise-network.com/raise/article/view/1240.

Caroline Jones is an applied social sciences teaching professional with extensive experience working in the children and young people field and lecturing/programme leading in Higher Education. Currently employed as a Tutor based within the Health and Education Faculty at Manchester Metropolitan University, having previously been a Lecturer at the University Campus Oldham and at Stockport University Centre. Also an External Examiner for Derby University/Middlesex University and a Peer Reviewer for IETI. Research interests include; leadership and management, social mobility and social policy, risk, resilience and adolescent mental health, young care leavers, widening participation and disadvantage, originator of the ‘psychosocial and academic trust alienation’ (PATA) theory.

Email: c.jones@mmu.ac.uk. LinkedIn: https://uk.linkedin.com/in/caroline-jones-1bab40b3. Twitter/X: @c_JonesSFHEA. Researchgate: https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Caroline-Jones-39?ev=hdr_xprf.

Leonie Sweeney is a teaching professional within the Applied Social Sciences faculty at Manchester Metropolitan University, with many years of experience working within the children and young people sector. Currently employed as a Higher Education Course Leader and Lecturer, delivering Children and Young People and Early Years degree courses. Additionally, is an External Examiner for University of Chichester and University of Sunderland. Research interests include: student engagement, social mobility, widening participation.

Email: leonie.sweeney@oldham.ac.uk


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What the experience of neurodivergent PhD students teaches us, and why it makes me angry

by Inger Mewburn

Recently, some colleagues and I released a paper about the experiences of neurodivergent PhD students. It’s a systematic review of the literature to date, which is currently under review, but available via pre-print here.

Doing this paper was an exercise in mixed feelings. It was an absolute joy to work with my colleagues, who knew far more about this topic than me and taught me (finally!) how to do a proper systematic review using Covidence. Thanks Dr Diana Tan, Dr Chris Edwards, Associate Professor Kate Simpson, Associate Professor Amanda A Webster and Professor Charlotte Brownlow (who got the band together in the first place).

But reading each and every paper published about neurodivergent PhD students provoked strong feelings of rage and frustration. (These feelings only increased, with a tinge of fear added in, when I read of plans for the US health department to make a ‘list’ of autistic people?! Reading what is going on there is frankly terrifying – solidarity to all.) We all know what needs to be done to make research degrees more accessible. Make expectations explicit. Create flexible policies. Value diverse thinking styles. Implement Universal Design Principles… These suggestions appear in report after report, I’ve ranted on the blog here and here, yet real change remains frustratingly elusive. So why don’t these great ideas become reality? Here’s some thoughts on barriers that keep neurodivergent-friendly changes from taking hold.

The myth of meritocracy

Academia clings to the fiction that the current system rewards pure intellectual merit. Acknowledging the need for accessibility requires admitting that the playing field isn’t level. Many senior academics succeeded in the current system and genuinely believe “if I could do it, anyone can… if they work hard enough”. They are either 1) failing to recognise their neurotypical privilege, or 2) not acknowledging the cost of masking their own neurodivergence (I’ll get to this in a moment).

I’ve talked to many academics about things we could do – like getting rid of the dissertation – but too many of us are secretly proud of our own trauma. The harshness of the PhD has been compared to a badge of honour that we wear proudly – and expect others to earn.

Resource scarcity (real and perceived)

Universities often respond to suggestions about increased accessibility measures with budget concerns. The vibe is often: “We’d love to offer more support, but who will pay for it?”. However, many accommodations (like flexible deadlines or allowing students to work remotely) cost little, or even nothing. Frequently, the real issue isn’t resources but priorities of the powerful. There’s no denying universities (in Australia, and elsewhere) are often cash strapped. The academic hunger games are real. However, in the fight for resources, power dynamics dictate who gets fed and who goes without.

I wish we would just be honest about our choices – some people in universities still have huge travel budgets. The catering at some events is still pretty good. Some people seem to avoid every hiring freeze. There are consistent patterns in how resources are distributed. It’s the gaslighting that makes me angry. If we really want to, we can do most things. We have to want to do something about this.

Administrative inertia

Changing established processes in a university is like turning a battleship with a canoe paddle. Approval pathways are long and winding. For example, altering a single line in the research award rules at ANU requires approval from parliament (yes – the politicians actually have to get together and vote. Luckily we are not as dysfunctional in Australia as other places… yet). By the time a solution is implemented, the student who needed it has likely graduated – or dropped out. This creates a vicious cycle where the support staff, who see multiple generations of students suffer the same way, can get burned out and stop pushing for change.

The individualisation of disability

Universities tend to treat neurodivergence as an individual problem requiring individual accommodations rather than recognising systemic barriers. This puts the burden on students to disclose, request support, and advocate for themselves – precisely the executive function and communication challenges many neurodivergent students struggle with.

It’s akin to building a university with only stairs, then offering individual students a piggyback ride instead of installing ramps. I’ve met plenty of people who simply get so exhausted they don’t bother applying for the accommodations they desperately need, and then end up dropping out anyway.

Fear of lowering ‘standards’

Perhaps the most insidious barrier is the mistaken belief that accommodations somehow “lower standards.” I’ve heard academics worrying that flexible deadlines will “give some students an unfair advantage” or that making expectations explicit somehow “spoon-feeds” students.

The fear of “lowering standards” becomes even more puzzling when you look at how PhD requirements have inflated over time. Anyone who’s spent time in university archives knows that doctoral standards aren’t fixed – they’re constantly evolving. Pull a dissertation from the 1950s or 60s off the shelf and you’ll likely find something remarkably slim compared to today’s tomes. Many were essentially extended literature reviews with modest empirical components. Today, we expect multiple studies, theoretical innovations, methodological sophistication, and immediate publishability – all while completing within strict time limits on ever-shrinking funding.

The standards haven’t just increased; they’ve multiplied. So when universities resist accommodations that might “compromise standards,” we should ask: which era’s standards are we protecting? Certainly not the ones under which most people supervising today had to meet. The irony is that by making the PhD more accessible to neurodivergent thinkers, we might actually be raising standards – allowing truly innovative minds to contribute rather than filtering them out through irrelevant barriers like arbitrary deadlines or neurotypical communication expectations. The real threat to academic standards isn’t accommodation – it’s the loss of brilliant, unconventional thinkers who could push knowledge boundaries in ways we haven’t yet imagined.

Unexamined neurodiversity among supervisors

Perhaps one of the most overlooked barriers is that many supervisors are themselves neurodivergent but don’t recognise it or acknowledge what’s going on with them! In fact, since starting this research, I’ve formed a private view that you almost can’t succeed in this profession without at least a little neurospicey.

Academia tends to attract deep thinkers with intense focus on specific topics – traits often associated with autism (‘special interests’ anyone?). The contemporary university is constantly in crisis, which some people with ADHD can find provides the stimulation they need to get things done! Yet many supervisors have succeeded through decades of masking and compensating, often at great personal cost.

The problem is not the neurodivergence or the supervisor – it’s how the unexamined neurodivergence becomes embedded in practice, underpinned by an expectation that their students should function exactly as they do, complete with the same struggles they’ve internalised as “normal.”

I want to hold on to this idea for a moment, because maybe you recognise some of these supervisors:

  • The Hyperfocuser: Expects students to match their pattern of intense, extended work sessions. This supervisor regularly works through weekends on research “when inspiration strikes,” sending emails at 2am and expecting quick responses. They struggle to understand when students need breaks or maintain strict work boundaries, viewing it as “lack of passion.” Conveniently, they have ignored those couple of episodes of burn out, never considering their own work pattern might reflect ADHD or autistic hyper-focus, rather than superior work ethic.
  • The Process Pedant: Requires students to submit written work in highly specific formats with rigid attachment to particular reference styles, document formatting, and organisational structures. Gets disproportionately distressed by minor variations from their preferred system, focusing on these details over content, such that their feedback primarily addresses structural issues rather than ideas. I get more complaints about this than almost any other kind of supervision style – it’s so demoralising to be constantly corrected and not have someone genuinely engage with your work.
  • The Talker: Excels in spontaneous verbal feedback but rarely provides written comments. Expects students to take notes during rapid-fire conversational feedback, remembering all key points. They tend to tell you to do the same thing over and over, or forget what they have said and recommend something completely different next time. Can get mad when questioned over inconsistencies – suggesting you have a problem with listening. This supervisor never considers that their preference for verbal communication might reflect their own neurodivergent processing style, which isn’t universal. Couple this with a poor memory and the frustration of students reaches critical. (I confess, being a Talker is definitely my weakness as a supervisor – I warn my students in advance and make an effort to be open to criticism about it!).
  • The Context-Switching Avoider: Schedules all student meetings on a single day of the week, keeping other days “sacred” for uninterrupted research. Becomes noticeably agitated when asked to accommodate a meeting outside this structure, even for urgent matters. Instead of recognising their own need for predictable routines and difficulty with transitions (common in many forms of neurodivergence), they frame this as “proper time management” that students should always emulate. Students who have caring responsibilities suffer the most with this kind of inflexible relationship.
  • The Novelty-Chaser: Constantly introduces new theories, methodologies, or research directions in supervision meetings. Gets visibly excited about fresh perspectives and encourages students to incorporate them into already-developed projects. May send students a stream of articles or ideas completely tangential to their core research, expecting them to pivot accordingly. Never recognises that their difficulty maintaining focus on a single pathway to completion might reflect ADHD-related novelty-seeking. Students learn either 1) to chase butterflies and make little progress or 2) to nod politely at new suggestions while quietly continuing on their original track. The first kind of reaction can lead to a dangerous lack of progress, the second reaction can lead to real friction because, from the supervisor’s point of view, the student ‘never listens’. NO one is happy in these set ups, believe me.
  • The Theoretical Purist: Has devoted their career to a particular theoretical framework or methodology and expects all their students to work strictly within these boundaries. Dismisses alternative approaches as “methodologically unsound” or “lacking theoretical rigour” without substantive engagement. Becomes noticeably uncomfortable when students bring in cross-disciplinary perspectives, responding with increasingly rigid defences of their preferred approach. Fails to recognise their intense attachment to specific knowledge systems and resistance to integrating new perspectives may reflect autistic patterns of specialised interests, or even difficulty with cognitive flexibility. Students learn to frame all their ideas within the supervisor’s preferred language, even when doing so limits their research potential.

Now that I know what I am looking for, I see these supervisory dynamics ALL THE TIME. Add in whatever dash of neuro-spiciness is going on with you and all kinds of misunderstandings and hurt feelings result … Again – the problem is not the neurodivergence of any one person – it’s the lack of self reflection, coupled with the power dynamics that can make things toxic.

These barriers aren’t insurmountable, but honestly, after decades in this profession, I’m not holding my breath for institutional enlightenment. Universities move at the pace of bureaucracy after all.

So what do we do? If you’re neurodivergent, find your people – that informal network who “get it” will save your sanity more than any official university policy. If you’re a supervisor, maybe take a good hard look at your own quirky work habits before deciding your student is “difficult.” And if you’re in university management, please, for the love of research, let’s work on not making neurodivergent students jump through flaming bureaucratic hoops to get basic support.

The PhD doesn’t need to be a traumatic hazing ritual we inflict because “that’s how it was in my day.” It’s 2025. Time to admit that diverse brains make for better research. And for goodness sake, don’t put anyone on a damn list, ok?

AI disclaimer: This post was developed with Claude from Anthropic because I’m so busy with the burning trash fire that is 2025 it would not have happened otherwise. I provided the concept, core ideas, detailed content, and personal viewpoint while Claude helped organise and refine the text. We iteratively revised the content together to ensure it maintained my voice and perspective. The final post represents my authentic thoughts and experiences, with Claude serving as an editorial assistant and sounding board.

This blog was first published on Inger Mewburn’s  legendary website The Thesis Whisperer on 1 May 2025. It is reproduced with permission here.

Professor Inger Mewburn is the Director of Researcher Development at The Australian National University where she oversees professional development workshops and programs for all ANU researchers. Aside from creating new posts on the Thesis Whisperer blog (www.thesiswhisperer.com), she writes scholarly papers and books about research education, with a special interest in post PhD employability, research communications and neurodivergence.


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How educators can use Gen AI to promote inclusion and widen access

by Eleni Meletiadou

Introduction

Higher education faces a pivotal moment as Generative AI becomes increasingly embedded within academic practice. While AI technologies offer the potential to personalize learning, streamline processes, and expand access, they also risk exacerbating existing inequalities if not intentionally aligned with inclusive values. Building on our QAA-funded project outputs, this blog outlines a strategic framework for deploying AI to foster inclusion, equity, and ethical responsibility in higher education.

The digital divide and GenAI

Extensive research shows that students from marginalized backgrounds often face barriers in accessing digital tools, digital literacy training, and peer networks essential for technological confidence. GenAI exacerbates this divide, demanding not only infrastructure (devices, subscriptions, internet access) but also critical AI literacy. According to previous research, students with higher AI competence outperform peers academically, deepening outcome disparities.

However, the challenge is not merely technological; it is social and structural. WP (Widening Participation) students often remain outside informal digital learning communities where GenAI tools are introduced and shared. Without intervention, GenAI risks becoming a “hidden curriculum” advantage for already-privileged groups.

A framework for inclusive GenAI adoption

Our QAA-funded “Framework for Educators” proposes five interrelated principles to guide ethical, inclusive AI integration:

  • Understanding and Awareness Foundational AI literacy must be prioritized. Awareness campaigns showcasing real-world inclusive uses of AI (eg Otter.ai for students with hearing impairments) and tiered learning tracks from beginner to advanced levels ensure all students can access, understand, and critically engage with GenAI tools.
  • Inclusive Collaboration GenAI should be used to foster diverse collaboration, not reinforce existing hierarchies. Tools like Miro and DeepL can support multilingual and neurodiverse team interactions, while AI-powered task management (eg Notion AI) ensures equitable participation. Embedding AI-driven teamwork protocols into coursework can normalize inclusive digital collaboration.
  • Skill Development Higher-order cognitive skills must remain at the heart of AI use. Assignments that require evaluating AI outputs for bias, simulating ethical dilemmas, and creatively applying AI for social good nurture critical thinking, problem-solving, and ethical awareness.
  • Access to Resources Infrastructure equity is critical. Universities must provide free or subsidized access to key AI tools (eg Grammarly, ReadSpeaker), establish Digital Accessibility Centers, and proactively support economically disadvantaged students.
  • Ethical Responsibility Critical AI literacy must include an ethical dimension. Courses on AI ethics, student-led policy drafting workshops, and institutional AI Ethics Committees empower students to engage responsibly with AI technologies.

Implementation strategies

To operationalize the framework, a phased implementation plan is recommended:

  • Phase 1: Needs assessment and foundational AI workshops (0–3 months).
  • Phase 2: Pilot inclusive collaboration models and adaptive learning environments (3–9 months).
  • Phase 3: Scale successful practices, establish Ethics and Accessibility Hubs (9–24 months).

Key success metrics include increased AI literacy rates, participation from underrepresented groups, enhanced group project equity, and demonstrated critical thinking skill growth.

Discussion: opportunities and risks

Without inclusive design, GenAI could deepen educational inequalities, as recent research warns. Students without access to GenAI resources or social capital will be disadvantaged both academically and professionally. Furthermore, impersonal AI-driven learning environments may weaken students’ sense of belonging, exacerbating mental health challenges.

Conversely, intentional GenAI integration offers powerful opportunities. AI can personalize support for students with diverse learning needs, extend access to remote or rural learners, and reduce administrative burdens on staff – freeing them to focus on high-impact, relational work such as mentoring.

Conclusion

The future of inclusive higher education depends on whether GenAI is adopted with a clear commitment to equity and social justice. As our QAA project outputs demonstrate, the challenge is not merely technological but ethical and pedagogical. Institutions must move beyond access alone, embedding critical AI literacy, equitable resource distribution, community-building, and ethical responsibility into every stage of AI adoption.

Generative AI will not close the digital divide on its own. It is our pedagogical choices, strategic designs, and values-driven implementations that will determine whether the AI-driven university of the future is one of exclusion – or transformation.

This blog is based on the recent outputs from our QAA-funded project entitled: “Using AI to promote education for sustainable development and widen access to digital skills”

Dr Eleni Meletiadou is an Associate Professor (Teaching) at London Metropolitan University  specialising in Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (EDI), AI, inclusive digital pedagogy, and multilingual education. She leads the Education for Social Justice and Sustainable Learning and Development (RILEAS) and the Gender Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (GEDI) Research Groups. Dr Meletiadou’s work, recognised with the British Academy of Management Education Practice Award (2023), focuses on transforming higher education curricula to promote equitable access, sustainability, and wellbeing. With over 15 years of international experience across 35 countries, she has led numerous projects in inclusive assessment and AI-enhanced learning. She is a Principal Fellow of the Higher Education Academy and serves on several editorial boards. Her research interests include organisational change, intercultural communication, gender equity, and Education for Sustainable Development (ESD). She actively contributes to global efforts in making education more inclusive and future-ready. LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/dr-eleni-meletiadou/


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Thinking with affect theory in higher education: what can it help us to do?

by Karen Gravett

How does higher education feel, to work or to study in? How do affects circulate through the places, spaces, bodies and the structures and pedagogies of institutions? And why might thinking about feelings and affect be useful for educators? This blog draws on recent research that seeks to explore how affect theory can be helpful to understand and enhance our work in higher education. Attuning to affect, I suggest, has implications for both how we understand power relations in education, as well as for finding ways to foster more creative and meaningful pedagogies. 

What is affect theory?

Interest in affect, and ideas from affect theory/studies, are gaining momentum across the evolving field of higher education studies. Within the social sciences, the ‘affective turn’ has been influenced by work from Clough (2007), Massumi (2015), Seigworth and Pedwell (2023), Ahmed (2010), and many others. No longer confined to binary ideas of emotion/reason, body/mind, scholars have begun to think about emotion and affect as interwoven with education in complex ways. What we mean by emotions and affect can be understood differently, but for many scholars, affect specifically refers to sensory experiences (Zembylas, 2021), forces that are felt bodily. Affects circulate and evolve within and in between ordinary encounters, and in mobile ways.

Affect in the classroom

Thinking with affect can help us understand the classroom as a space in which learning is not divorced from the body but viscerally experienced and felt. This helps us to see learning and teaching as always situated and informed by the moment in which it occurs and as we experience it. Feelings do not simply happen within individuals and then move outward (Ahmed, 2010). This shift in thought enables us to consider ourselves in relation to others (both human and non-human), to consider how learning and teaching feels, as well as the ‘structures of feeling’ (Williams, 1961) that circulate within institutions. Thinking with affect helps us to think about the micro-incidents of co-presence, its frictions, and the ‘inconvenient’ (Berlant, 2022) work being present requires of us to engage with others. Education requires affective work of us; it requires us to change, evolve, and adapt constantly to others. This work is exposing; discomforting. In engaging with one another, and being affected and receptive to one another, we are made aware of our own interdependence.

Affective institutions

Thinking about affect, then, enables us to understand how institutions are permeated by, and also create, ‘affective atmospheres’ (Anderson, 2009), or ‘structures of feeling’ (Williams, 1961). In his work, Williams uses the idea of ‘structures of feeling’ to study the affective quality of life, in order that we might understand ‘the most delicate and least tangible parts of our activity’ (Williams, 1961, 48). Affective atmospheres, including competition, collegiality, anxiety, inclusion and exclusion are created through pedagogies, policies and practices. For example, the affective atmospheres of self-improvement and self-promotion may permeate neoliberal higher education institutions. Cultures of neoliberalism and precarity require academics to adopt certain affective and embodied practices, such as being competitive, self-motivated or resilient. And yet, affect may be able to disrupt these conditions: affective experiences such as humility, collegiality and joy offer opportunities for resistance and can also be found flourishing within institutional cultures and practices.

Affective craft

In the classroom, there may also be ways in which teachers are able to reshape affective relations. This might mean that certain relations could be given space to flourish, and other hierarchies of difference might be, at least momentarily, constrained.Different pedagogical approaches contribute to different feelings in classroom spaces and to different connections. For example, Stewart describes the changing affective atmosphere of the classroom when she employs storytelling and uses questioning approaches to enable dialogue: ‘something subtle but powerful had shifted…The room had become a scene we were in together as bodies and actors’ (Stewart, 2020: 31). For Airton, these kind of affirmative pedagogic approaches work as ‘affective craft’ and might include providing open spaces for students to lead and shape the learning encounter. In my research with Simon Lygo-Baker, we examine different ways in which teachers can experiment with affective craft. These include through teaching in spaces beyond the classroom, using art and objects for generating discussion, engaging storying and the sharing of vulnerabilities, as well as through using Play-Doh modelling to disrupt hierarchies and foster collaboration. These are just some ordinary, everyday ideas, and are ideas we also explore further in our new book: Reconceptualising Teaching in Higher Education:  Connected Practice for Changing Times, to be published in 2026 by Routledge.

We believe that teaching is about presence, connection, an ‘encounter’, and that affect theory can be a helpful way to understand and enhance the connections we make, as well as the institutions in which we work and learn. As Dernikos and colleagues explain: ‘scholars are now theorizing what these affective swells can do. And what is surprising is that this does not call for grand movements, nor for great reforms, but depends on the subversive power of the very small’ (Dernikos et al, 2020: 16).

Dr Karen Gravett is Associate Professor of Higher Education, and Associate Head (Research) at the University of Surrey, UK, where her research focuses on the theory-practice of higher education. She is a member of the Society for Research in Higher Education Governing Council, a member of the editorial boards for Teaching in Higher Education and Learning, Media and Technology, and Associate Editor for Sociology. She is a Principal Fellow of the Higher Education Academy. She is also an Honorary Associate Professor for the Centre for Assessment and Digital Learning at Deakin University. Karen’s latest books are: Gravett, K (2025) Critical Practice in Higher Education, and Gravett, K (2023) Relational Pedagogies: Connections and Mattering in Higher Education.


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Talking the talk: language for learning in higher education

by Estefania Gamarra, Marion Heron, Lewis Baker and Harriet Tenenbaum

Do you remember when you started university, and you were expected to use a whole new language? We don’t just mean new nomenclature such as ‘seminars’ or ‘tutorials’, but language that can help you make a clear argument or disagree politely with a classmate. This language, or educational dialogue, and in particular disagreeing politely, is critical to be an engaged citizen in a healthy democracy, without otherwise descending into unhealthy practices such as ‘cancel culture’ as recently highlighted in the media. In this blog post, we argue that universities have a responsibility not only to teach students how to talk in an academic context, but also for this teaching to be discipline-specific and embedded in the disciplinary study where possible.

There is a long-held misperception that all students who start university are able to talk the talk of the university, that is, they have the language skills, the terminology, and the confidence to articulate their opinions from their first day. This is just simply not true for many undergraduate students. Having English as a first language is also not necessarily an advantage. Bourdieu et al (1994, p8) said, “academic language… is no one’s mother tongue, not even that of children of the cultivated classes”.

What do we mean by language here? We have drawn on the pedagogy and research from compulsory school education, namely the work of scholars at Cambridge University. Their work on educational dialogue has been successfully incorporated into school teaching with impressive results. Educational dialogue here refers to communicative acts such as agreeing, disagreeing, reasoning and expressing ideas. Research in school settings has shown that encouraging such dialogue can boost academic attainment. One study highlighted the relationship between elaborating on ideas and attainment in reading, spelling, punctuation and grammar. Despite this compelling evidence, similar strategies have been underexplored in higher education.

In our university classrooms, we hear students say things such as: ‘I know the answer, but don’t know how to phrase it’ and ‘I need to learn how to express my answer like that’. So, if students are themselves noticing a need for academic language, why are we so behind in the higher education context? And more importantly, what language do these students need? Do they all need the same academic language to confidently talk the talk? This is exemplified by the dialogue below between two engineering students working on answering multiple-choice questions together, an excerpt from our forthcoming research:

Student A:  Yeah, listen, we need to be able when we say “force”, to say why.  

Student B:  Yeah, to flip it.  

Student A:  Because we were right, like, C is incorrect, but we don’t say why it is not incorrect.  

Student B:  I don’t know how to word it, you know.

In our current research project, supported by a Nuffield Foundation grant, we explore whether pairs of Foundation Year students across Engineering, Psychology and Bioscience, engaging in discipline-specific multiple-choice questions, can learn to develop these academic language skills and the extent to which they can do this in an academic year-long intervention programme.

Our early findings indicate that while students are capable of using academic language, the forms they adopt vary by discipline. For example, consider one of the most basic interactions in academic discussions – giving and asking for reasons. Typically, the default marker for requesting justification is “why?”. The following extract from a psychology discussion illustrates this:

Student A:  Why do you think that is?

Student B:  Because, uh, if you got negative emotion, you know, so that is not called positive psychology. Yep, yeah, so I’m thinking about understanding like how to prevent negative emotions.

In contrast, in science courses such as biology or engineering, it was more common to use “how?” rather than “why?” when asking for reasoning. Consider this extract from an engineering discussion:

Student A:  Yes. Then the same as D.

Student B:  D? How?

Student A:  And then it’s…

Student B:  Oh.

Student A:  And this is…

Student B:  So the arrow goes this way…

Student A:  So then P goes this way…

Here, Student B not only asks for the reasoning by using “how?”, but the response unfolds as a sequence of steps outlining the reasoning process. This example also highlights another subject-specific difference: while psychology students typically expand on each other’s arguments or examples, engineering students more frequently build on each other’s equations, often with the assistance of pen and paper.

So, based on these snippets of authentic student dialogues, let’s return to the question posed at the beginning. Yes, all students can and do need to learn academic language to talk to each other and develop understanding, but the type of language depends on the discipline. Disciplinary differences can be seen in the way students build on each other’s ideas (eg long turns, short turns) as well as the words and phrases used. The evidence from our project shows this.

We argue that learning to talk the language of higher education should not be considered a prerequisite but instead, should be an essential feature of the higher education curriculum embedded within disciplinary studies.

Why is this important? Integrating academic language training into the curriculum can enhance students’ academic confidence, foster a stronger sense of belonging, and ultimately improve retention rates. In a post‐COVID world, where student engagement is waning, this conversation‐based approach may also help rebuild the social and collaborative fabric of university life.

Moreover, the skills developed through such training are highly transferable beyond academia. Students acquire essential discussion and teamwork abilities that prove invaluable in their future careers. It is important to emphasise that developing these skills requires deliberate training; we must not assume that students will acquire them without practice and guidance.

Although students may already use discipline‐specific language, targeted training helps them become accustomed to engaging in – and, more importantly, listening to – disagreement. These conversational practices become part of their repertoires, enabling them to generalize these skills across various contexts. As noted earlier, we must all learn to engage in constructive disagreement to counteract cancel culture. While the manner of such discourse may vary by discipline, developing these skills is essential for active participation in a healthy, thriving democracy.

Estefania Gamarra Burga is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the University of Surrey. Her research interests include educational dialogue, discourse analysis, gender, and spatial cognition in STEM and higher education.

Marion Heron is Associate Professor of Educational Linguistics in the Surrey Institute of Education, University of Surrey. She supervises doctoral students on topics in the field of applied linguistics and higher education. She researches in the areas of language and education, with a particular interest in classroom discourse, genre and doctoral education.

Lewis Baker is a Senior Lecturer in the Faculty of Engineering and Physical Sciences and a Chartered Science Teacher. His research interests include teaching pedagogy and science education, often within a foundation year context.

Harriet Tenenbaum is Professor of Social and Developmental Psychology. Her research focuses on social justice in young people, everyday conversations, and teaching and learning across the lifespan.


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Private international foundation courses, and what they say about university leadership

by Morten Hansen

My research on the history of private international pathway providers and their public alternatives shows how some universities have stopped believing in themselves. Reversing this trend requires investment in their capabilities and leadership.

The idea that universities have stopped believing in themselves as institutions that can take on the challenges of the day and find solutions that are better than those developed by private rivals echoes a point recently revived by Mariana Mazzucato. Mazzucato explains how private firms often are portrayed like lions. Bold animals that make things happen. The public sector and third-sector organisations, on the contrary, are too often seen as gerbils. Timid animals that are no good at developing new and innovative solutions.

Skilled salesmen convinced some universities that private companies are better than universities at teaching and recruiting for university preparatory programmes. The inbuilt premise of this pitch is that universities are gerbils and private providers are lions. One university staff member explained what it felt like meeting such salesmen:

“The thing that sticks most in my mind is the dress. And how these people sat differently, looked differently, spoke differently, and we felt parochial. We felt like a bunch of country bumpkins against some big suits.” (University staff)

The lion-gerbil pitch worked in institutions across England because universities were stifled by three interlocking practices of inaction: outsourcing capability development; taking ambiguous stands on international tuition fees; and refusing to cooperate with other universities.

Outsourcing capability

Universities are increasingly outsourcing core aspects of their operations, such as recruiting international students. While university leadership is often characterised as conservative, my research suggest that this trope misses something critical about contemporary university leadership in English higher education. The problem with the term ‘conservative’ is that it implies that leadership is risk-averse, and comfortable projecting past power structures, practices and norms into the future. This does not correspond to historical developments and practices in the sector for international pathways.

The University of Exeter, for example, submitted incorporation documents for their limited liability partnership with INTO University Partnerships only six years after the Limited Liability Partnerships Act 2000 was passed, which marked the first time in England’s history that this legal setup was possible. They took a big leap of faith in the private sector’s ability to recruit students for them, and after doing so invested time and resources helping INTO to further develop its capability. They even invited them onto their campuses. It is hard to overstate how much these actions diverged from historical practice and thus ‘conservative’ leadership.

What was once a highly unusual thing to do, has over the last two decades thoroughly normalised—to the extent that partnering with pathways now seems unavoidable. One respondent from the private sector explained this change in the following way:

“In 2006, ‘07, ‘08, ‘09, ‘10, the pathway providers were, if you like, the unwelcome tenants in the stately home of the university. We had to be suffered because we did something for them. Now, the relationship has totally moved. It’s almost as if they roll out the red carpet for the pathway providers” (C-suite)

The far more conservative strategy would have been to lean into the university’s core capabilities – teaching and admissions – and scale this up over time. Yet that is precisely what my respondents said ‘conservative’ university leaders were unwilling to do: they did not believe the university could manage overseas recruitment by themselves. As argued by former Warwick VC Nigel Thrift, this timidity is not unique to the recruitment of international students, but also extends to their engagement with government agencies. University management by and large “has done as it has been told. It hasn’t exactly rolled over and played dead, but sometimes it can feel as though it is dangerously close to Stockholm Syndrome” (Thrift, 2025, p3).

Ambiguous stands on international fees have deepened the current crises

There is no law in England that compels universities to charge high international students fees. By setting them as high as possible and rapidly increasing the intake of international students, universities de facto offset and thus obfuscated the havoc that changing funding regimes wreaked on university finances. This has contributed to what Kings’ Vice Chancellor Shitij Kapur calls the ‘triangle of sadness’ between domestic students, universities, and the government.

Had universities chosen to stand in solidarity with their international students by aligning their fees more closely to the fees of home students, then the subsequent crises in funding would have forced universities to either spend less money, or make it clearer to the wider public that more funding was needed, before building up the dependencies and subsequent vulnerabilities to intake fluctuations that are currently on full display. These vulnerabilities were exacerbated by overoptimistic growth plans, and university leadership not always fully understanding the added costs that came with such growth. In an example of this delayed realisation, one Pro-Vice-Chancellor explained to me what it felt like to partner with a private foundation pathway:

“At the time you are signing up for these things, there is euphoria around because they are going to deliver against this business plan, which is showing hundreds of students coming in. International student is very buoyant, you sign up for a 35-year deal. So, everything is rosy. If you then just take a step back and think ‘so what am I exposing the university to?’  …  because in year seven, eight, ten, fifteen whatever, it can all go pear-shaped, and you are left then with the legacy building.” (Pro-Vice-Chancellor)

By seeing fee setting as a practice, that is, something universities do to their own students rather than something that is inflicted by external (market or government) powers, we make visible its ideological nature and implications. The longer history of international fees in Brittan was thus an important site of ideological co-option; it was a critical juncture at which universities could have related in a more solidaric manner towards their students.

Unwillingness to cooperate on increased student acquisition costs

You might, at this stage, be wondering: what was the alternative? The answer is in recognising the structure of the market for what it is: efficiently recruiting and training a large number of international students requires some degree of cooperation between universities. My research, however, suggests that universities have often been unwilling to cooperate because they see each other chiefly as competitors. This competition is highly unequal given the advantage conferred to prestigious universities located in internationally well-known cities.

The irony is that many universities nevertheless end up – perhaps unwittingly – cooperating by partnering with one of the few private companies that offer international foundation programmes. These private providers can only reach economies of scale because they partner with multiple universities at the same time. One executive explains how carrying a portfolio of universities for agents to offer their clients is precisely what gives them a competitive advantage:

“The importance of the pathways to the agents is that they carry a portfolio of universities, and the ambition is that you have some which are very well-ranked and academically quite difficult to get into. And, you try and have a bottom-feeder or two, which is relatively easy to get into academically. The agent is then able to talk to its clients and say, look, I can get offers into these universities. Some of them are at the very top. If you are not good enough there, then you might get one in the middle and I’ve always got my insurance offer for you. […] what the pathways do is that they provide a portfolio that makes that easier.” (Private Executive)

A public consortium with pooled resources and that isn’t shy about strategically coordinating student flows would have functioned just as well, and the Northern Consortium is living proof of this. The consortium in fact inspired Study Group to get into the pathway business themselves. The limited growth of the Consortium, relative to its private rivals, is equally proof of missed chances and wasted opportunities.

Could the gerbil eat the lion?

Private providers can use and have used these practices of inaction to pit universities against each other, over time resulting in lower entry requirements and higher recruitment costs. In this climate, public alternatives such as in-house programmes struggle to survive. Once invited in, pathway companies are also well positioned to expand their business with their partner universities in other ways, deepening their dependence. As one senior executive told me:

“Our aspiration is to say that the heart of what we are is a good partner to universities. They trust us. […] for some of our core partners, we bring in a lot of revenue. And, that then puts us in a really good position to think about the other services that we can add of value.” (Private Executive)

The economic downside of relying on these ‘good’ partners is the expensive and volatile market dynamics that follow. As long as universities are trapped by the notion that they are chiefly competitors best served by outsourcing capabilities to sales-oriented firms and leaving international students to pick up the bill, there is limited hope for any genuine inter-university collaboration and innovation. This limits the public potential for scaling an economically viable and resilient market in the long-run.  As a sector, HE has the know-how, experience, capital, and repute to do this. It’s just about getting on with it!

Morten Hansen is a Lecturer in Digital Economy and Innovation Education at the Department of Digital Humanities, King’s College London.