Why higher tuition fees have left a £1bn-a-year black hole

Nick Clegg said the deficit meant fees had to rise. But the new system will cost the government more.

In defending the coalition's decision to triple tuition fees from £3,000 to £9,000, Nick Clegg has frequently pointed to the size of the deficit. For instance, he commented in 2010:

At the time I really thought we could do it [not increase tuition fees]. I just didn't know, of course, before we came into government, quite what the state of the finances were [sic].

In reality, for the reminder of this parliament at least, the reforms will cost the government more, not less. The new fees only came into effect this year, which means repayments won't kick in until 2015 for a three-year course. In the intervening period, the government will be forced to pay out huge amounts in maintenance loans and tuition-fee loans, not least because three-quarters of universities are planning to charge £9,000 for some courses next year, with a third charging the maximum fee for all (minister previously insisted they would only do so in "exceptional circumstances").

As a result, according to a new report by the Higher Education Policy Institute (HEPI), the coalition faces a £1bn-a-year black hole in university funding. Having "seriously understated" the cost of its reforms, the report warns that the government will either have to dramatically reduce student numbers, ask graduates to make higher repayments, or pass the bill on to future taxpayers.

It cites three reasons why the new system will cost the government more than previously thought. First, while ministers predicted an average fee of £7,500, the actual figure is £8,234, forcing students to take out higher tuition fee loans. Second, while the Treasury expects a 32 per cent shortfall in loans repayment, the Institute for Fiscal Studies believes the figure will be closer to 37 per cent. The government currently assumes that the average male graduate will be earning £75,000 a year in 30 years time (a reduction from an earlier estimate of £100,000) , a figure that looks excessively optimistic. Finally, the new fees system adds 0.2 percentage points to CPI inflation, triggering rises in benefits and pensions of between £420m and £1.14bn a year (unless, of course, the government, as has been widely speculated, freezes benefits).

The report concludes:

A slightly higher [repayments] cost or a slightly greater inflationary effect than the most optimistic that we have considered here would mean that the present policy is actually more expensive than the one it has replaced.

With the government likely to simply pass the cost on to the taxpayer (as would happen in a purely state-funded system), Clegg's party is entitled to ask, what was all the pain for?

Student demonstrators march against higher tuition fees in London in 2010. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood