by 2030, according to a government White Paper.4
There were three major problems with this otherwise welcome development. First, the system had no capacity to absorb these large numbers as infrastructure crumbled under the weight of massification. Second, the majority of students now entering universities were academically weak because of a largely dysfunctional school system for the majority of learners, thereby creating massive inefficiencies in higher education. For example, cohort studies showed that of the students pursuing a three-year bachelor’s degree, less than 50 per cent would attain that qualification within six years.5 Third, the preference for university studies – a deep-seated reaction to the colonial and apartheid distaste for academic education for the ‘natives’ – created the so-called inverted pyramid in which the majority of post-school learners were in universities (about 1 million) and not technical and vocational education (about 700 000).
In short, there was less money but more students. With typical understatement, the Council on Higher Education (CHE), a statutory body that advises the minister of higher education, would muse that the ‘growth in student enrolment was not matched by a proportionate growth in subsidy’.6 Moreover, there were more students enrolled but fewer students graduating, creating very high inefficiency costs in an already faltering higher education system.
Ihron Rensburg: The student body shifted and is shifting at UJ. A decade ago, only 8 per cent of those in the first-year class came from Quintile 1 and 2 schools [the poorest schools]. It’s 28 per cent today; and of course it’s not just that grouping. It’s also your Quintile 3 and 4 schools and even in Quintile 5 schools [the most privileged schools], where you’ve got working-class children who don’t qualify for state aid. So it’s a big shift and what that means is parents go out of their way to put their children in there.
Here are two critical observations: the rapid growth in the number of poor students and the demand this places on financial aid within one university, a confluence that would explain the ferocity of the protests at UJ and other universities with such remarkable shifts in campus demographics. That growth also impacts on the efficiency of the higher education system, as the UJ vice-chancellor explains:
Ihron Rensburg: Of course the pressure is on universities to improve success rates. As Sizwe Nxasana [the experienced banker appointed by Nzimande in August 2015 to turn around the NSFAS] argues, whether it is to finance that poorer group or the ‘missing middle’, he needs to mobilise close to R10 billion a year. He can only mobilise that kind of resource from the private sector, from development finance institutions such as PIC, Development Bank and so on, if there is a yield for those who put money in; they don’t want to put money into a bottomless pit. There needs to be some recycling of that fund. In order for that to happen, our current on-time graduation rate of 29 per cent or so needs to improve by 10 ten per cent, he says; ideally by 20 per cent. So from 29 per cent, if you can get it closer to 35 or 36 per cent, there’s an ability to turn around the situation, meaning there is money coming back into universities for such a potential scheme for the ‘missing middle’. But if there is no new or improved performance of the system, that [investment] scheme is going to fall.
Lourens van Staden, the vice-chancellor of one of South Africa’s most consistently turbulent universities, the Tshwane University of Technology (TUT), looks like a bunch of taut muscles rolled into one. This pugilistic-looking character is not one you would want to meet in a dark alley, for he looks like someone who would enjoy boxing your ears just for fun. This image has served him well, deployed as he has been by various ministers to bring a semblance of peace to the most difficult campuses in the country. This is an unusual role for an unusual South African: a white man of Afrikaans heritage who is fluent in an African language. True to his image, Lourens van Staden does not flinch from telling you exactly what he thinks.
Lourens van Staden: Well, I disagree with the government’s National Development Plan (NDP). Where have you seen a system where there are more students in universities than in colleges and elsewhere in the post-school system? This thing should be turned around. But the current system they tried to build is useless. Sorry, I’m straight; it’s useless, the so-called TVET [Technical and Vocational Education and Training] colleges. So where do the students go? Don’t think they are stupid. Our kids are intelligent. They know these colleges – what would it help them to go there? Where else can they go?
Career-focused training colleges are theoretically ideal for absorbing the masses of students, but in the South African context this option is unattractive. The college cultures are decrepit, staff attitudes are negative, the work ethic is poor, competent lecturers are in short supply, and what should be a solution to the inverted pyramid problem has a serious marketing problem. And the students know it; they prefer universities. The problem, Van Staden concludes, is that there is no shortcut to acquiring competent technicians or to resolving these issues of image and reputation in a broken system of alternative ‘career pathing’ for high school graduates.
Declining pass rates
As student numbers have grown, pass rates have declined. In terms of subsidy income, these trends represented a mixed blessing. On the one hand, the more students enrolled, the higher the ‘teaching inputs’; hence the subsidy increases. On the other hand, the fewer students who graduate, or who graduate on time, the lower the ‘teaching outputs’; thus the subsidy decreases. In other words, what universities may make on the inputs, they lose again on the outputs.
So what do institutions tend to do? They exploit this formula by increasing enrolments as much as possible and put pressure on their systems (academic departments, tutorial systems, centres for teaching and learning, etc.) to enhance pass rates. The DHET, in order to demonstrate that it has fulfilled its political mandate to open up access to more and more students, sets sometimes very high targets for enrolment, which some institutions agree to but cannot meet. So to prevent exploitation, government sets ‘caps’ on those enrolments.
Throughput rates – a measure of the time it takes students to graduate – are more difficult to control. Unscrupulous institutions might artificially enhance the pass rates or engage in dubious practices – such as one university that allowed students to write their examinations at home and without monitoring.7 There is just one limitation on these attempts to game the system: the overall funding pie remains constant. This means that to gain more out of the subsidy, an institution must not only do better on its own terms, but also do much better than the other 25 public universities. It is a messy business, but money is in short supply for all of them.
It is, however, very difficult to artificially raise a student’s results, and most universities play by the rules in large part because of the conscience of the academic lecturers. Most pride themselves on their disciplines and the quality of their qualifications. Some disciplines, such as accountancy and medicine, are governed by external examination bodies, and there is the real threat of loss of accreditation if such scams became known. And so, with growing numbers of academically weak students from the school system enrolled at universities, more and more students struggle to master the coursework and the failure rate continues to increase.
Consider the case of Sipho (not his real name), who has visited my office at UFS many times. Sometimes he changes his name in the registry so that he will have another opportunity to plead for one more chance. It is a practice in my office that no student comes through the door unless I see his or her academic record first. This allows for students to be referred to the more appropriate office for assistance, or to prevent repeat calls to the same desk. Sipho’s record indicates that he has failed nearly all his modules two or three times. A rule was created in which a student cannot fail a module more than twice. There are grounds for appeal, and most students are given a third opportunity. If they fail again, they are advised to do the outstanding module through UNISA. But no matter what Sipho is told, he refuses to accept the verdict of the various offices of appeal. He is desperate, and no amount of tutoring and special assistance and multiple opportunities can help him. But he will not take no for an answer.
I
