Following the government’s announcement that tuition fees will increase in line with inflation from 2026, a YouGov survey revealed that almost half of Britons believe that too many people go to university. Whilst this must also be interpreted within a context of rising anti-intellectualism, scepticism towards going to university in the UK has been led by criticism of so-called ‘Mickey Mouse degrees’ deemed to be ‘not worth the paper they’re printed on’, an accusation from which Oxbridge is exempt. Our philosophical conception of education seems to have fundamentally changed. It’s as if we’ve stopped valuing education for education’s sake, and started viewing it as a mere means to an end.

We have to ask the question: how much of this is our own doing? These criticisms of ‘Mickey Mouse degrees’ or worthless diplomas have been encouraged by the UK’s tradition of educational league tables, a concept largely alien, or at least far less relevant, in other parts of the world. Such tables rank institutions (including at the secondary and even primary school level) and study programmes based on criteria such as exam results, employment rates after graduation, or prospective incomes. Whilst some of this information may have some value in making informed choices, is it really worthwhile, or even responsible, to introduce market mechanisms into something whose inherent value cannot be quantified?

“They create an artificially black and white illusion that one school is better than another”

One of the main critiques of league tables is that they can be incredibly misleading, depending on their criteria. In the case of primary and secondary education, rankings are often purely based on exam results, academic progress (again, as judged by exam performance), or university admissions. Whilst it certainly wouldn’t be fair to suggest that such information shouldn’t be relevant to prospective parents, it fails to capture the whole story. Academic attainment is not solely the result of the school, but also of a long list of socio-economic factors which league tables fail to acknowledge. Instead, they create an artificially black and white illusion that one school is better than another. Surely details, such as class sizes, extracurricular activities and access to support staff are just as relevant as grades in determining which school is right for the child?

University league tables can be even more arbitrary. Scores are often a culmination of multiple categories, usually based on research and employment rates, but also some as subjective as student satisfaction, meaning that one category has the potential to skew the overall score. Take the case of Bielefeld University in Germany, whose score in the Times Higher Education’s (THE) World University Rankings jumped from 250th to 166th in 2019 as a result of one scholar’s participation in the Global Burden of Disease study, which vastly increased the university’s number of citations. In other words, this rise in the rankings was completely unrelated to the quality of education.

“Our philosophical conception of education seems to have fundamentally changed”

Despite the flaws of league tables, we can’t deny the impact they have on how we view education. How many of us can honestly say that the University of Cambridge’s accepted position as one of the best universities in the country was irrelevant in our choice to come here? Although we as students have benefitted immensely from the University’s position at the top of the league tables, be it through greater employability, high-quality facilities or lecturers at the top of their field, we have to consider the whole picture. Such a severe ranking of institutions often does more harm than good to the majority of schools, especially at the secondary level.

School policy has become geared to ensuring a high performance in league tables as schools are put in competition to attract pupils, triggering a re-evaluation of school’s very purpose. Are such formative years really supposed to be purely dedicated to exams and academic progress? Rather unsurprisingly (and I speak as a former grammar school pupil here), an LSE study has identified a trade-off between pupil well-being and academic performance in the context of competing independent schools. As schools compete, they adopt teaching styles focused on maximising academic attainment, which are effective but decrease overall well-being.

In contrast, such competition is absent in countries like Denmark, which don’t use league tables, and are praised for their emphasis on producing “well-rounded individuals”. The UK system, by contrast, fosters the opposite. As students are so eager to gain admission to the most prestigious universities, it becomes the norm, if not advised, to push aside extracurriculars unrelated to their course.

In Denmark and similar countries, education is more of a philosophy than a commodity, as it is becoming in the UK. Discourse of ‘Mickey Mouse degrees’ weaponises league table data to challenge education’s intrinsic value and present it solely as a means of achieving economic gains. Such discourse is paradoxical; universities were created for academia, not to act as training grounds for labour market forces. No matter where an institution or programme stands in a league table, all education has an inherent value in its own right. As Cambridge students, we should be the first to defend the merits of all academia. We don’t need market competition to prove that.