Frank Furedi

The degree is losing its meaning

Universities desperate for students have caused rampant grade inflation. Frank Furedi says it has to stop

The public is all too aware of the doubts many educators, civil servants and business people have about the current value of A-levels. But there is far less public discussion about the dramatic inflation of grades in higher education that calls into question the way university degrees are classified.

With about 60 per cent of undergraduates now being awarded either a first or an upper second class degree, it is difficult to distinguish the outstanding student from the very average. It was far easier to evaluate the worth of a degree in the Eighties, when most students gained a lower second, and only a fifth achieved a first or better.

A government-backed task force is looking into ways of reforming the degree classification system so that it provides a more accurate picture of a graduate's achievement. Sadly, the exercise is likely to be a waste of time.

The question of how students are assessed has been discussed in the higher education sector for many years. This is also the case in the United States, where the introduction of new assessment procedures has been accompanied by a rise in grade inflation even more pronounced than in Britain.

Recently, Princeton, one of America's most prestigious universities, announced that it would combat the problem by proposing a cap on the number of A degrees that lecturers could award. According to this proposal, only – only! – the top 35 per cent of students in any course can receive an A-minus, an A or an A-plus.

The temptation to tinker with the degree classification system appears to be irresistible on both sides of the Atlantic. But instead of introducing a quota system here, the government task force is expected to recommend scrapping degree classes and introducing "transcripts" of the individual student's achievement.

However, the real problem has little to do with degree classification. Grade inflation is the inexorable outcome of the prevailing imperative of consumerism that dominates campus life. Universities face enormous pressures to attract and retain more and more students. There was a time when the majority of students had to compete hard to gain a place at a university. Today, this relationship has been reversed and, with the exception of a small minority of elite institutions, it is the universities that are competing for bums on seats.

Matters are made worse by the fact that academics are under constant pressure to increase the number of students taking their courses. Any lecturer with a reputation for running a difficult course or being a hard marker is unlikely to thrive in a consumerist-oriented campus environment. And those who fail to fall in line with the new culture face continuous exhortations from their managers to "mark more progressively".

"Are you telling me that no one on your course is smart enough to get a first?" was the question thrown at a colleague recently in one of the elite Russell Group universities during a quality assurance audit. Humanities academics have been told by such auditors that if they cannot give exam marks in the high seventies and eighties – something unheard of 20 years ago – then there must be a problem with their teaching.

The pressure to increase and retain "customers" has led to a culture that self-consciously flatters students. Assessment and feedback are taken so seriously that many academics devote much energy to ensuring students give them positive evaluations. Universities transmit signals that encourage students to believe that an upper second is there for the taking. Is it any surprise that, in a recent survey of 1,000 undergraduates, an astonishing 86 per cent expected to gain a "good" degree? Soon, campuses will be denuded of average undergraduates.

If the Government abolishes degree classification for records of students' achievement, it will simply recreate grade inflation in a new, more individualised form. Institutions that are reluctant to give low marks are unlikely to insert critical comments on a student's transcript. They will be anodyne documents, like the letters of reference that many employers no longer take seriously. And students will continue to suffer from the mistaken belief that they are all above the average.

Some of my colleagues believe that the devaluation of a university degree is no big deal. All that happens is that more students feel better because they gain a good degree. Unfortunately, this practice exacts a high price.

Challenging courses are made to be more appealing to students. Those who know that they can gain an upper second in their sleep are unlikely to stretch themselves in the lecture room and, therefore, have little incentive to work to realise their full potential. The average student loses a chance to do a bit better, and the gifted ones are discouraged from giving their best.

Instead of tinkering with the degree system, we ought to promote practices that endow students' achievement with real meaning.

First published in the Telegraph, 9 June 2004