Now a degree is a commodity, no wonder more students are cheating

Poppy Noor in The Guardian

It was reported this week that the Department for Education is considering new penalties for students who plagiarise essays. This comes after an investigation by the Times in 2016 found that 50,000 students had been caught cheating on their university degrees in the three years before.

Students were paying anywhere between £100 and £6,750 for an essay, and this widespread cheating has led to suggestions that criminal records could be dished out to offenders. But with a generation now forking out in excess of £50,000 for their degrees, is anybody surprised that a university education now feels like another asset that can simply be bought?

Since the 1990s, when Tony Blair brought in tuition fees, a number of changes have been introduced that have made the decision of whether or not to go to university more about your ability to afford it (or at least not be put off by the cost) and less about your desire to learn.

Fees have increased – in the most extreme cases nearly tenfold – since they were introduced, and bursaries have been removed for the poorest students, meaning that those without family money will inevitably end up paying more, as it will take them longer to pay off their loans.

This sends a very clear message to students: your money is just as important as your mind. The right grades aren’t enough to get you into university. You need the cash (or loan) to pay for it in the first place. Buying essays – any form of plagiarism – is clearly wrong, but it feels like the logical extension of an education that comes with a high and rising price tag.

Don’t get me wrong, I learned a lot at university. I went because I loved the subject that I wanted to study, I was hungry for more knowledge, and I wanted to self-improve. But for a lot of people, that’s not what university is for. The government itself, since the introduction of tuition fees, has justified them on the basis that students will end up earning more if they go to university – and so, for many, a degree feels like a route to a career rather than an opportunity to learn.

Employers have bought into the idea that university can simply be used as a proxy for employability, as is shown by the minimum 2:1 threshold required for most jobs, despite this not necessarily correlating with better performance at work. For students who feel they’re just buying a rubber stamp, what’s the point in putting in the effort?

Plan to crack down on websites selling essays to students announced

 

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If you plan to purchase, rather than partake in your degree, purely so you can meet that minimum 2:1 requirement, there are many ways to blag your way through it that require much less than a critical mind. You read your pre-decided list of writers, normally white male authors who have been on the list for years – often past the time when their novels felt culturally relevant or their theories genuinely held water. In fact, you don’t even have to read these writers – you can just go on SparkNotes and find a summary. Then you make some mundane criticisms that have probably been made by many others before – because, for some reason, no matter how many times students write the same essay on how Marx didn’t anticipate the resilience of capitalism, it’s apparently still worth saying. And then you move on to the next essay.

When large amounts of money are necessary to attend university, and degrees are described more and more often simply as a route to a profitable job, it’s not surprising that a pure interest in education is jettisoned.

It’s for this reason that I find the sudden dismay about all this cheating a bit of a joke. Of course action should be taken – cheating is a serious offence. But before we lament a situation in which thousands of students waste their time and opportunities by plagiarising rather than actually learning, we might want to ask how we got into this position in the first place. The £50,000 cost of a degree, rather than the comparative pennies spent on stolen essays, might be the first place to look.

Misjudging universities

Pervez Hoodbhoy in The Daen

THE headlines earlier this week were celebratory: a Pakistani university has been included in the “500 Best Global Universities” by the US News and World Report. Although Quaid-i-Azam University (QAU) in Islamabad occupied only the 496th place — well below 10 other universities from neighbouring India and Iran — this is welcome news. Have we actually zoomed up and away from the rock-bottom standards of our higher education?

Sadly, the flawed methodology used by the Report means that this happy conclusion cannot be affirmed or denied. If used to assess universities in the United States and Europe the approach, though controversial, has some degree of validity. But, applied to developing countries like Pakistan, Iran, and India, it can lead to absurd conclusions.

Take, for example, the inclusion of QAU but the absence of the Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS) from the top 500 list. QAU is a rather ordinary Pakistani public-sector university where I have taught for 41 years, and where I still continue to teach voluntarily. I have much affection for it. LUMS, on the other hand, is a private university for Pakistan’s pampered super-elite with much greater resources, financial and intellectual. I do not have the same positive feelings for LUMS, where my two years of teaching ended mysteriously and unpleasantly. So, whereas I wish it were the other way around, honesty compels me to say that LUMS is superior as a university to QAU. Those familiar with both institutions will surely agree.

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The rot can be stemmed if the HEC and PCST agree to reverse policies that incentivise corruption.

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Just what have the Report’s editors been smoking? According to its website, the Report judges a university by the quantity of research produced. More precisely, 65pc of the grade comes from counting the number of PhDs produced, papers published, and citations earned. Another 25pc is for an (undefined and undefinable) “research reputation”, while the remaining 10pc is for “international collaborations”. This recipe is not unreasonable. After all, publishing research articles in good journals and counting citations is important in assessing individual and institutional academic achievement. Having PhD students undoubtedly helps generate a culture of research.

But there’s a catch. Social scientists call it Campbell’s Law: “The more any quantitative social indicator is used for social decision-making, the more subject it will be to corruption pressures and the more apt it will be to distort and corrupt the social processes it is intended to monitor.” This law is nearly as ironclad as one of physics. A corollary: robust systems may suffer some distortion but weaker ones can be willfully deformed and massively manipulated by prevailing local interests.

Pakistan’s academic system is, as everyone agrees, far from robust. An estimated 40pc of students cheat in matriculation, intermediate, and college examinations. Teachers are no more ethical than shopkeepers, policemen, politicians, judges, and generals. Because of policies that reward authors of research articles and PhD supervisors with cash and promotions, our universities have turned into factories producing junk papers and PhDs. Publishing papers is now a well-developed art form that combines outright plagiarism, faking data, showcasing trivia, repeating old papers, and using fly-by-night journals. With apologies to the few genuine students and their supervisors, the fact is that PhDs are awarded to all and sundry.

From many grotesque examples, I will repeat one that I had argued out fruitlessly for many months with Dr Javed Leghari, who became the Higher Education Commission (HEC) chairman following Dr Atta-ur-Rahman, the principal architect of the numbers game.

This concerned a physics PhD thesis that was guided by an “HEC meritorious professor” at Balochistan University, co-supervised by the then vice-chancellor of Quaid-i-Azam University, Dr Masoom Yasinzai. The thesis title was A quantitative study on chromotherapy. The text contained equations that apparently bestowed respectability. Together with several notable Pakistani physicists, I saw this as nonsense. But months of effort failed to convince Dr Leghari, who refused to reveal the names of the referees.

As a last-ditch effort, I sent a copy to two distinguished physicists who I knew for many years. One was the physics Nobel Prize (1979) winner, Steven Weinberg, and the other was the physics Nobel Prize (1988) winner, Jack Steinberger.

Weinberg wrote a point by point criticism which ended up saying: “I am appalled by what I have seen. The thesis shows a lack of understanding of the fundamentals of physics. This thesis is not only unworthy of a PhD, it is positively dangerous, since it might lead patients with severe illnesses to rely on ‘chromotherapy’ rather than on scientific medicine. I find it difficult to understand how this thesis could have earned its author any academic degree.”

Steinberger was equally negative: “a reasonable physics department should not have accepted anything like this work … Following world news this past decade, I have been very unhappy about the Pakistani political instability and social problems, but I had imagined that its cultural level was better than what I now see.”

This rot can be stemmed if the HEC and Pakistan Council for Science & Technology agree to reverse policies that incentivise corruption. This will not be easy. Resisting pressures from greedy beneficiaries of the present system will require enormous moral strength, especially now that the Report has demonstrated the rewards for wholesale publishing.

My last meeting with the current HEC chairman, Dr Mukhtar Ahmad, was a surprisingly pleasant one. He expressed concern at the decay within and seemed receptive to the following suggestion: “Let the HEC require that an author of a research paper, for which he or she desires official credit, to give a video-recorded presentation before the institution’s faculty. This would be archived for free access on the HEC website.”

All necessary technologies needed to implement the above are already in place. The benefits would be two-fold. First, any piece of genuinely important research would become widely known. Second, fake research and corrupt practices would be readily spotted.

Many months have passed since our meeting. Although my emails requesting signs of progress remain unanswered, I remain hopeful that the honourable chairman’s reply is somewhere out there in cyberspace.

The writer teaches physics and mathematics in Lahore and Islamabad.

Teachers will work the system as long as they are under pressure for results

There's no room for error now schools are businesses. We need to hire more teachers and give them space to try new ideas

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• • Phillip Easton
  • guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 3 April 2012 18.29 BST 
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Teachers have been 'gaming' the system to get their pupils through exams. Photograph: Rui Vieira/PA

According to a poll by the Association of Teachers and Lecturers, 35% of teachers say they could be "tempted to cheat". I've been a teacher for 10 years, and those figures hardly surprise me. I've seen everything from teachers openly rubbishing other subjects to ensure revision session attendance, teachers advising pupils to retake a whole year to improve performance in one module (thus ensuring their results don't drop), all the way to teachers encouraging pupils to annotate texts in the form of a shorthand lesson plan. I've seen teachers using exam spec answers and teachers becoming examiners for a year to steal good practice: in other words, we all work the system. What really worries me, however, is that there is no grey area left untapped and staff will feel pressured to go that extra inch into full-blown plagiarism.

Of course, gaming the system to relieve pressure from senior management is as old as the hills. But to get your head around around the whole truth of the ugly situation means unpicking a much larger problem with education in the UK.

Let me burst some bubbles, to start with: schools are businesses. All employees at the schools I have worked at are held accountable for their results. Residuals (how well your students have improved on predicted grades) A*-C pass rates, Alps scores, t-Scores, value-added – all are unpicked by a good management team, in a bid to improve the business. Better pass rates equals a more attractive school, and therefore more students. More students means more money. We are businesses.

The switch to academy status is to most parents confusing and pointless – to staff it means that now, you are officially working for a corporation. These are not your fuzzy, friendly government-run schools, with endless patience for slack teachers. The potential here is to swiftly get rid of staff who don't make the grade. "Good!" you might think. "Lazy teachers! They have it easy anyway, let's cut away the dead wood!" And, perhaps, there is an argument for that.

However, when a teacher sits down and analyses their results, they are set targets. The targets are "aspirational", but still meant to be achievable. Even when your pass rates are 90% and over, or your Alps results scores are a 2 (1 being the best possible, 9 being the worst) targets are put in place. And here is where the problems can begin. It is very easy (and I have known this to be the case) that a teacher's worth is questioned in line with results. Lazy pupils? That'll be your fault for allowing that culture in your classroom. Lack of homework or revision? Why didn't you call parents in to make them understand the importance of the revision sessions after class?

The result is a Mobius strip of a career, where you can feel constantly that you're running to stand still. I've grown pretty resilient to it, but I can empathise with the teachers who haven't. By and large, we all do our best. If you put in the hours, your teaching is focused, you have a keen bunch of kids and you lay on the revision sessions, the outcomes should be good. But when they aren't, there is no room for error. The school up the road had a better year. Raise your game – Bogwood primary sent twice as many kids there this year, and we need bums on seats. And if your results are good, well open a paper and listen to everyone tell you it's because the exams got easier, and it was harder in their day. It might well have been, but it doesn't help the hard work we are doing right now.

Our current school model is not fit for purpose. Schools are hamstrung by a lack of funds to develop teaching practice, the space to develop new ideas, and the confidence to try them out. We need to be attracting innovators with visions for the future, starting with training staff and ending with a flexible, skills-based curriculum that evolves every couple of years. Teachers need time. Look at the current dropout rates of new teachers: over a third leave the job in under three years. Why? Pressure. Hiring more teachers would create jobs and allow us to teach smaller classes, and could create more non-contact time in which to develop the craft. Yet this idea is often ridiculed. Since when did we all get so blasé about the future of our youth?