Lots of graduates will never pay off their loans, which is the point

Graduating into a recession is hard; at least you can not pay your loans until you earn a bit.

The Telegraph reported yesterday that "at least 40 per cent of student loans will never be repaid":

Around four in 10 graduates will have their student loans written because they will never earn enough to pay them off, researchers claim.

At least 40 per cent of the cash borrowed by students will never be repaid - a figure far higher than Government estimates have previously suggested.

Ministers had previously believed that around one third of the total students loan bill would be lost as those students fail to make enough money to pay it back.

However, leading university vice-chancellors, who carried out the study for the Institute for Public Policy Research, suggest that the total would in fact be closer to 40 per cent.

This is the second volley I've seen in what looks like a campaign to justify raising the cost of education without raising the actual tuition fees. The first came earlier this month, as the Guardian reported on moves to lower the level at which students would have to start repaying their loans.

Here's what's happening. Tuition fee loans are paid by the Government to the universities; maintenance loans are paid by the Government to the students. The students then pay the loans back, with interest – currently set at RPI plus 3 per cent – until either they have been paying for thirty years, or they have fully paid off the loan. The payments are 8 per cent of income above £21,000, a threshold which was originally planned to rise with inflation, but now looks likely to stay the same in nominal terms, thus increasing the number of graduates having to pay.

A subset of students will, therefore, not fully pay off the loan. This has always been known; the problem is that the initial calculations incorporated the same level of hopeless economic optimism as all the other Government departments (or, to put a more partisan spin on it, the initial calculations did not take into account the fact that the Government's austerity programme would smother the recovery in its cradle). Which means that, rather than a third of students not expected to pay off their loans in full, it is now four in ten – because fewer graduates are employed, and those which are are earning less.

The IPPR report which sparked the Telegraph's piece suggests that one way to deal with the problem is:

The creation of a new generation of cut-price degree courses priced at £5,000-a-year – significantly less than the current £9,000 maximum – for “stay-at-home” students to cut down on the amount of money being loaned by the Government.

The idea is that of students take these courses, then they could be barred from taking out maintenance loans, cutting the overall amount borrowed substantially. Of course, the university would still have to work out how to save £4000 on the teaching of a "stay-at-home" student.

It is clear that the complete mismanagement of the tuition fee increase by this government has left a black hole in the higher education sector's finances. But every suggestion as to how to manage that so far involves putting the burden on students and graduates – and even then, on only the graduates who started university in 2012 or later, who have already paid three times more that the students who immediately preceded them.

In the end, what's happened is that this generation of graduates is experiencing grave misfortune, with the highest levels of youth unemployment since records begin and a prolonged decline in real wages; that misfortune leads to the expectation that record numbers of them will, in essence, default; and much of the response is based around finding ways to extract more money from them anyway.

IPPR's proposal is better than most, in that it is at least looking for ways to save students money; but it still leaves them picking up the tab for the Government's incompetence.

Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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In your 30s? You missed out on £26,000 and you're not even protesting

The 1980s kids seem resigned to their fate - for now. 

Imagine you’re in your thirties, and you’re renting in a shared house, on roughly the same pay you earned five years ago. Now imagine you have a friend, also in their thirties. This friend owns their own home, gets pay rises every year and has a more generous pension to beat. In fact, they are twice as rich as you. 

When you try to talk about how worried you are about your financial situation, the friend shrugs and says: “I was in that situation too.”

Un-friend, right? But this is, in fact, reality. A study from the Institute for Fiscal Studies found that Brits in their early thirties have a median wealth of £27,000. But ten years ago, a thirty something had £53,000. In other words, that unbearable friend is just someone exactly the same as you, who is now in their forties. 

Not only do Brits born in the early 1980s have half the wealth they would have had if they were born in the 1970s, but they are the first generation to be in this position since World War II.  According to the IFS study, each cohort has got progressively richer. But then, just as the 1980s kids were reaching adulthood, a couple of things happened at once.

House prices raced ahead of wages. Employers made pensions less generous. And, at the crucial point that the 1980s kids were finding their feet in the jobs market, the recession struck. The 1980s kids didn’t manage to buy homes in time to take advantage of low mortgage rates. Instead, they are stuck paying increasing amounts of rent. 

If the wealth distribution between someone in their 30s and someone in their 40s is stark, this is only the starting point in intergenerational inequality. The IFS expects pensioners’ incomes to race ahead of workers in the coming decade. 

So why, given this unprecedented reversal in fortunes, are Brits in their early thirties not marching in the streets? Why are they not burning tyres outside the Treasury while shouting: “Give us out £26k back?” 

The obvious fact that no one is going to be protesting their granny’s good fortune aside, it seems one reason for the 1980s kids’ resignation is they are still in denial. One thirty something wrote to The Staggers that the idea of being able to buy a house had become too abstract to worry about. Instead:

“You just try and get through this month and then worry about next month, which is probably self-defeating, but I think it's quite tough to get in the mindset that you're going to put something by so maybe in 10 years you can buy a shoebox a two-hour train ride from where you actually want to be.”

Another reflected that “people keep saying ‘something will turn up’”.

The Staggers turned to our resident thirty something, Yo Zushi, for his thoughts. He agreed with the IFS analysis that the recession mattered:

"We were spoiled by an artificially inflated balloon of cheap credit and growing up was something you did… later. Then the crash came in 2007-2008, and it became something we couldn’t afford to do. 

I would have got round to becoming comfortably off, I tell myself, had I been given another ten years of amoral capitalist boom to do so. Many of those who were born in the early 1970s drifted along, took a nap and woke up in possession of a house, all mod cons and a decent-paying job. But we slightly younger Gen X-ers followed in their slipstream and somehow fell off the edge. Oh well. "

Will the inertia of the1980s kids last? Perhaps – but Zushi sees in the support for Jeremy Corbyn, a swell of feeling at last. “Our lack of access to the life we were promised in our teens has woken many of us up to why things suck. That’s a good thing. 

“And now we have Corbyn to help sort it all out. That’s not meant sarcastically – I really think he’ll do it.”