Some months ago, I was at my old university, speaking to prospective sixth-form and college students about taking a degree in the arts and what future careers they could expect. It was a cohort of teenagers from underrepresented backgrounds: all of them had that glint of ambition in their eyes, a desire to better their circumstances. After the talk, they showed me their precocious LinkedIn profiles already advertising their talents to future employers. I expected them to ask what would be of more value out of a degree in the arts or Stem, but I was unprepared for something more bracing: whether it was worth them going to university at all.

It is a question that keeps on rearing its head, as the graduate recruitment crisis and crippling student debts paint a picture of a pursuit with diminished returns. Those of us in the orbit of young people increasingly wonder whether we can, in good conscience, encourage them to go and get a degree. The options being presented increasingly look like snake oil, so is it any wonder that young people feel disillusioned and deceived?

There was a time when university was considered a reliable mechanism of social mobility. It was a philosophy inculcated under New Labour, with the then prime minister, Tony Blair, announcing in 1999 his intention for “50% of young adults going into higher education in the next century” (a figure that sat at just 20% in 1990). The idea was simple: a knowledge-based economy would create the jobs of the future, and it was the country’s duty to prepare young people for it. This higher-skilled workforce would be able to better compete globally, translating to a boost in economic growth and a clear pathway for working-class young people to enter the middle class.

But........

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