A Labour government would cut fees by £3,000, Ed Miliband has announced. (Photo: Getty)
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Labour's tuition fee policy: not awful, but still pretty bad

Labour's tuition fee policy isn't as bad as I feared. It's still pretty dire.

Labour has finally revealed its manifesto position on higher education funding: the much trailed drop in the tuition fee ceiling from £9,000 per year to £6,000; and a lesser noticed increase in the maintenance grant for students from families with an income of up to £42,000 per year. I’ve written against the tuition fee change previously and, just to put this upfront, I was the most senior civil servant to work on the Browne Review of Higher Education which, in popular perception, ‘paved the way’ to the introduction of £9,000 fees – even though that isn’t what we recommended.

Today’s Labour announcements are, I have to admit, better than I expected for two reasons. But they still represent terrible policy.

Let me cover the positives before I do the rest. The first one is that reducing tuition fees on the face of it reduces the resources that universities have to put on courses. Labour has said definitively though that the drop in fee income will be made up through an increase in direct public funding. No funding gap; no imminent decline in quality. This is good news.

The second positive is that Labour’s changes, in a major departure from previous higher education reforms, will apply to all undergraduates not just new entrants. This means that students who are already in higher education or who may be entering this year – prior to the introduction of the new fee ceiling in 2016 – will incur higher fees until 2016 and then will incur the same lower rate as the new entrants. This is important because it diminishes the risk that lots of people thinking about going to university this year will put off their entry for a year, delaying their careers and emptying out classrooms. If Labour had introduced the lower fee only for new entrants, then there would have been a minimum £9,000 advantage to putting off study for a year (the £3,000 reduction in the fee multiplied by the three years of the typical degree); now the advantage of putting off study is only £3,000, because 2015 entrants will receive the benefit of the future fee decrease in subsequent years.

Okay, enough about the positives. The problems with the policy are legion. The first is that the change is simply unnecessary. University applications are rising, despite the higher fee levels, and the gap between the participation rate of young people from disadvantaged backgrounds and others has continued to reduce. Labour has said the policy will cost £2.7bn a year. It will fund that cost through changes to pension tax relief. But the money could have been used for something else. To put the sum in perspective, it is about twenty times what it costs to avoid dropping the benefits cap to £23,000 per year. Perhaps that example is slightly too remote from higher education, in which case let’s think about the ‘forgotten 50%’ that Labour used to talk about. These are the young people who don’t go to university. £2.7bn per year would be transformative for that group. Merely a sixth of that sum would pay for 200,000 higher level apprenticeships. However, Labour isn’t helping them, instead it’s helping those already fortunate enough to go to university.

In fact the bias of their policy is even more unfortunate than this. Despite Ed Miliband’s rhetoric today about a promise for young people, it isn’t young people that pay tuition fees. Fees are paid back through what looks a lot like a tax on graduates. Reducing the fee level reduces the level of taxation on graduates. And because the ‘tax system’ is progressive in its design, the poorest graduates don’t pay back anything like the full amount of the fees. Labour’s policy in effect is a tax cut for graduates on above-average incomes. Forget about the 50 per cent of young people who don’t go to university, this policy won’t even help the poorest 50 per cent of those who do.

One last dig. Labour has suggested concern over the past few years about postgraduate study. The numbers of UK students going on to postgraduate study looks pretty flat, despite the higher demand for postgraduate skills in an increasingly knowledge-intensive economy. This may in part be because there is far less student finance available for postgraduate study. In order to remedy this, the Chancellor announced an extension of student loans to postgraduate students at the Autumn Statement last year. But that new funding builds on a financing system that Labour has decided is unsustainable. Part of their argument today is that fees have to come down because so many graduates don’t pay them back anyway. It’s difficult to see how Labour could wind back from that position to accept postgraduate student loans, which would take the loan amounts – and hence the non-repayment rate – in the opposite direction to what the party has said it wants. Yet it will already be spending an extra £2.7bn a year in direct public funding on undergraduate higher education. So it’s unlikely that it would be able to find even more direct public funding for postgraduate study.

There is a real risk in other words that a Labour government will spend a lot of money fixing a problem that doesn’t exist in undergraduate education and have nothing left to fix a problem that seems real and pressing to many people in postgraduate education.

Emran Mian is director of the Social Market Foundation

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Nicola Sturgeon and the SNP’s echoes of New Labour

The fall of Blair should be a set text for anyone wishing to know what happens next to the SNP.

If there was one thing the SNP and New Labour had in common, it was the hope. Both offered themselves as a burning torch of optimism to publics that had become tired of the same old gang running things in the same old way. Both promised a fairer, more equal society and fearless embrace of the modern world with an appealing freshness and energy. The voters bought it: both won big, repeatedly.

The thing is, if you’re elected on a mandate to be different, you’d better be different. In many areas, for a long time, New Labour managed to be just that. The smiling PM with the huge majority pushed through bold policies, some of which even worked. Tony Blair’s strategy was so successful that the Conservatives and the Lib Dems reshaped themselves in his likeness.

But, as some say, it’s the hope that kills you. When the inevitable attritional realities of governing start to weigh; when you make, as you will, bad decisions; when the list of enemies grows long; when you’ve simply had your time; you’ll fall like all the rest. Only, when you’ve soared so close to the sun, you have that much further to plummet.

The fall of Blair should be a set text for anyone wishing to know what happens next to the SNP. The debate on 21 May between the Scottish party leaders was, I think, a foretaste of a sure outcome – a public that until recently was politically and emotionally invested in the Nats is growing restive. In time, this will turn to disenchantment, then anger, then revenge at the ballot box. That is the unbreakable cycle of democratic politics.

Some of us have warned since the start that the SNP had over-promised and could only under-deliver. Its raison d’être is independence; everything else is just another brick to build the path. And so its education reform cannot be either brave or unpopular, even if it needs to be so to work, because the SNP cannot afford to alienate teachers or the teaching unions, or parents.

The same goes for the NHS, and doctors and health unions and patients. All the separatists have done – all they could have done, given their nature – is deploy the rhetoric of the radical while body-swerving hard choices and conflict at any cost. And where they have found themselves taking flak, they’ve pointed south to Westminster: “It’s no’ our fault, it’s theirs.”

Yet the voters show signs of wearying. Middle Scotland is either ignored or maligned by the middle-class socialists who drive the nation’s political debate, but it is where elections are won. The SNP has secured the support of enough of these people to win every recent election in style, but somewhere along the way the party seems to have forgotten this was a mandate not for independence, but for good government. Ten years in to SNP rule, each new audit of public services seems to wail like a warning siren.

So, during the debate, it was Nicola Sturgeon, not the Conservative leader, Ruth Davidson, or Labour’s Kezia Dugdale, who found herself in the audience’s cross-hairs.

There were the teachers, who complained about the damp squib that is the Curriculum for Excellence, the SNP’s flagship education policy; who pointed out that a fifth of primary pupils are leaving without basic literacy and numeracy skills; and who warned that lowering the standard of exams in order to push up the pass rate was not a mark of success.

Then there was the nurse who said she had been forced to use food banks (the existence of which has been used repeatedly by the SNP as a stick with which to beat the Conservatives and Westminster). “I can’t manage on the salary I have [which is set by the Scottish government],” Claire Austin told the panel. “You have no idea how demoralising it is to work in the NHS.” She delivered the killer line of the evening: “Do you think your perceived obsession with independence might actually cost you . . . in this election?”

The list of reasonable criticisms of the SNP’s governance is growing. The ideological obsession with free university tuition for Scottish students is increasingly seen as a sop to the better-off. Sturgeon’s demand for a quick second independence referendum, when a worried Middle Scotland was focused on what Brexit might mean for its future, was tone deaf.

The SNP has another problem (one that New Labour, for all its flaws, didn’t face): its doctrine of infallibility. The Nationalists’ constitution explicitly prohibits SNP elected members from criticising the party, its policies or each other. Although total unity is useful when you’re on the climb, it starts to look bonkers when the cracks are showing.

The word “cult” has long dogged the SNP. The party has tried hard to normalise its electoral appeal while keeping the flame of independence burning, but this has been a difficult balancing act. The pro-independence mob is an ugly thing when unleashed (and it has suited the leadership to open the cage door at times). After the debate, Claire Austin found herself at its mercy as the Nats briefed – wrongly – that she was the wife of a Tory councillor. The SNP branch in Stirling said, Tebbitishly, that if she was having to use food banks, “Maybe she needs to tighten her belt a bit more?”

Joanna Cherry, a QC, MP and the SNP’s home affairs spokesperson, was forced to apologise for spreading “Twitter rumours” about Austin. The ravening horde has largely kept its head down since the 2014 independence referendum, but it hasn’t gone away – it is not enough for the SNP’s critics to be debated: they must be destroyed. This isn’t the behaviour of a normal political party.

I have a feeling that when the SNP does fall, it will fall quite quickly. Its belief in its infallibility, and its inability or unwillingness to do self-deprecation or apology, will increasingly exasperate voters. There is nothing to suggest the current public policy failings will be addressed, and many signs that things will get worse.

How then do you arrest your fall? The SNP offered hope and promised it was different, and the voters believed it. The sense of betrayal could make for a very hard landing indeed. 

Chris Deerin is the New Statesman's contributing editor (Scotland). 

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

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