Cambridge is still not doing enough about mental healthEddie van W.

Recently, the mental health provisions at Cambridge have come under scrutiny. The Cambridge News and The Independent both published articles on the Cambridge Speaks Its Mind campaign, a Facebook page which provides anonymous testimonies of problems with welfare in colleges and across the University. This sustained coverage is refreshing. Every year sees an article in one of the student papers entitled “It’s time to talk about mental health.” They are usually powerful, harrowing and well written, yet forgotten by about week seven, when we’re back to worrying about our deadlines.

Responding to the media coverage, the University Press Office issued a statement saying that the University and colleges take mental health “very seriously,” and praised the work of the University Counselling Service. I’m not going to take UCS to task in this article, but I want to draw attention to something that got lost in the University’s defensive response: the role of the colleges.

Well-hidden on the University website is the “College Fee Agreement” which, among other things, states that the University delegates student welfare to the colleges. Here, I think, is where the problem lies. The primary welfare providers in the colleges are the tutors. On paper, the tutorial system sounds fantastic - tutors are an independent, supposedly impartial source of support. What other university could boast of such a system? Sadly, a quick browse of the Speaks Its Mind page suggests that the system is far from perfect; testimonies tell of a lack of confidentiality, a failure to understand, even a few cases of malice or incompetence from tutors. This is tragic for two reasons. Firstly, students suffer as a result of it. Secondly, there are some excellent, exemplary and hard-working tutors out there, who really care about their students. It’s sad that their good work tends to get lost when you read of tutors telling rape survivors that “boys will be boys.”

The problem with the tutorial system is mind-bogglingly simple. There is, as matters stand, no meaningful training for tutorial staff. Given the complexity of issues like mental health, disability, and sexual assault, it seems totally absurd that tutors do not have a comprehensive training system before they begin to support students. There is a long-standing CUSU campaign for tutor training but due to the glacial pace of progress at Cambridge, results are not likely anytime soon.

Opposition to training tutors takes several forms. I was informed by an older tutor that he had been doing this for thirty years and didn’t need to be told how to do his job, thank you very much. This attitude, sadly, isn’t a minority one. For many of the younger tutors, it’s a question of priorities. Young academics across the HE sector are under considerable pressure to advance their research. Where do you find the time to learn how to support a depressed student if you’ve also got to publish a book by the end of the year?

Yet it seems counter-intuitive to put people in a position of support when they haven’t been equipped with the very best skills and knowledge to do their job. I would suggest that the tutorial system requires a total rethink. We need to have a rigorous training program, with refresher courses every few years. Additionally, tutors should be in a position to request extra support if they feel they need it. This is not just for the welfare of students, but also for that of the tutors. If I were a new fellow, told I needed to be a source of support to two dozen students without any training myself, I’d be lost. The money to do this exists. If the University of Cambridge could afford to spend £3 million last year on wine, it can afford to train its staff.

The other problem is one of attitude: Cambridge piles on the pressure. We all know this and expect it, but for those of us with mental health conditions, it can push us to breaking point. The approach which seems to pervade our colleges and departments is that work is the be all and end all, and if you can’t get that 2:1 you’re in trouble. If you doubt this, remember that just a few years ago, the University essentially banned intermitting students from living in the city of Cambridge. Not the University, the city. While the University has now admitted this is wrong, it’s tragic that anecdotally colleges still tell students to leave Cambridge.

If Cambridge were to cut itself some slack, were to be less rigid with its deadlines, its pressures, its desire for essay-factories rather than students, would the world end? No. Would Cambridge suddenly drop from the top of league tables and lose its 800 year reputation for excellence? No. An enlightened senior tutor once said to me: “If my students are happy and healthy, and if they feel that they can get help or pause if they need to, I know they will do well.”

Several decades ago, Raymond Williams wrote “We read golden reminiscences of Cambridge so often... I have to include this other kind of fact: Cambridge can break you up, to no good purpose: confuse you, sicken you, wring you dry.” He could well have been writing today. This is why I think mental health is a political issue. The Cambridge Speaks Its Mind campaign is taking the first step by raising awareness of the problems. The next step is for students to call for reform, to put pressure on their colleges to bring in a system which is fairer, and deals with the plurality of problems. We don’t need to riot in the streets, we just need to emphasise that we deserve so much more.

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