Category: disability

  • Disabled students’ rights are still being ignored

    Disabled students’ rights are still being ignored

    In the context of wider financial pressures on providers, universities can be a challenging environment to work in at present.

    So, a crackdown on ensuring all disabled student support plans are both in place and implemented may have fallen to the bottom of the to-do list. Couple that with delays in the Disabled Students’ Allowance system and it’s a pretty bleak picture for disabled students.

    The findings of this year’s Office of the Independent Adjudicator (OIA) annual report echo these concerns.

    Like last year’s report, self-identified disabled students were over-represented in complaints, with the proportion rising for 2024 from a third to just over 40 per cent. Of those who did disclose details of their disability, mental health issues were the largest category selected by students (46 per cent), and specific learning differences accounted for a third.

    A bulk of complaints from students who self-identified as disabled related to support and reasonable adjustments to teaching and assessment not being implemented promptly or at all. This correlates to national trends as shown in Disabled Student UK’s annual survey of 1,200 disabled students across eight UK institutions, where only 39 per cent said they had their support needs implemented.

    Delayed

    OIA make it clear that delays to student support do happen and are not always a serious cause for concern. As they suggest, sometimes it may take a long time to identify what support works best for the student for their course of study, or the process is at a halt because a student’s application for DSA is significantly delayed.

    However, as the annual report highlights:

    there is no culture of accountability in place to ensure that disabled students receive the support that is necessary to place them on an equal footing for success with their peers.

    Additionally, the OIA recommends that providers train and support academic staff in meeting the requirements of the Equality Act, as too often academic staff have not fully understood what is required and, instead, “default to standard [teaching] practices that do not meet disabled students’ needs. As a result disabled students are often left to muddle through at a significant disadvantage to their non-disabled peers.

    Let’s recap

    Last week, the Disabled Students Commission published guidance clarifying the legal responsibilities of providers when it comes to competence standards and reasonable adjustments. Under the Equality Act 2010, providers are accountable for their acts and omissions in relation to disabled students. This includes a duty to make reasonable adjustments to ensure disabled applicants and students do not experience substantial disadvantages in comparison to non-disabled people.

    As the guidance explains, two considerations that should be used in decision-making as to what constitutes reasonable are whether the adjustment is possible and if there is a reasonable assumption that the adjustment might be effective in reducing substantial disadvantage for a disabled student.

    One of these considerations is whether a reasonable adjustment is financially viable. But while institutions must consider the total resource cost, this factor alone, according to the guidance, rarely automatically precludes an adjustment from being reasonable.

    It’s a squeeze

    A real risk here, given current financial circumstances, is that resources for disabled students continue to be squeezed, potentially making it harder to access adequate support.

    While financial strain alone is not a good enough reason not to implement a lawful duty, there is already significant evidence that disabled students’ needs are not currently being met. With a move towards self-service across student-facing roles, it paints an unpromising picture for future support for disabled students, unless something changes sharpish.

    Both the DSC and the OIA urge further signposting around competence standards for students and staff. The annual report suggests that they still instances where there is no clarity for students or staff within course documents about what competence standards will be assessed.

    If a competence standard is not defined, given that they are exempt from the duty to make reasonable adjustments, it is difficult for a provider to decide if a reasonable adjustment requested by a disabled student is, in fact, reasonable.

    Get it right

    Providers need to ensure that accurate information about competence standards and the possibility of reasonable adjustments is made available to both students and staff, including prospective students.

    Providers and individual staff are operating under strain at the moment, but it’s crucial to remember that supporting disabled students is not optional – it is a legal requirement. These aren’t practices and processes that can be prioritised based on finances, it’s a baseline, legal requirement disabled students are entitled to.

    Understandably in the current climate, some may feel resistant to adding additional responsibilities to an already heavy workload, especially as the number of students declaring a disability in recent years has increased. But addressing students’ needs proactively avoids the much greater financial and reputational costs associated with complaints and compensation. If institutions feel they don’t have the time or capacity to prioritise inclusive practices now, they risk spending a greater amount of time, money and resources later managing avoidable grievances.

    And if that isn’t enough, surely disabled students deserve better than having their legal rights to equity perpetually sidelined or ignored.

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  • Real inclusion is there for the taking

    Real inclusion is there for the taking

    Life with a disability or chronic condition is inconsistent.

    On good days, personal and professional obligations are met, and a reasonable, if not uninterruptedly good, quality of life is enjoyed – there is the mental and physical capacity to interact with others.

    On bad days, the limitations suddenly imposed lead to frustration, and obligations narrowly met, if at all.

    Interacting with others outside the immediate family is impossible, constituting a demand on personal resources which are fully deployed just trying to make it through the day.

    As a disabled researcher, staying motivated while pursuing an academic course lasting for several years while at the whim of fluctuating health conditions can be a complex and often lonely process.

    In my experience, trying to communicate this reality to colleagues and providers is met with compassion initially.

    However, a more comprehensive response over time to the shifting sands of life with a disability is often lacking. This is redolent of how professionals react to change in the workplace, when it is introduced at a strategic level – when long-established processes and systems are in place, lip service is paid to new initiatives but in reality, says psychologist John Fisher:

    …people maintain operating as they always have denying that there is any change at all.

    When everyone says – and often mean – “Poor you”, but then carry on regardless, this does little to enhance motivation for the disabled colleague for whom being at the mercy of their condition is a real, and lasting, psychological drain.

    Making a difference

    So what can a higher education provider do to reduce this sense of being a burden, and bolster motivation for disabled students, researchers and colleagues?

    David McClelland advances the theory that people are motivated by achievement (n-ach), by authority (n-pow) or by affiliation (n-affil) to varying degrees, and says the responsibility lies with the organisation to create the right conditions to motivate, arguing convincingly that:

    …any behavioural outcome is a function of determinants in both the person and the environment.

    This means that the responsibility rests with the organisation to provide optimum conditions for every individual to be motivated and to perform, and this is an on-going process – not a once-yearly day of “awareness” for a particular condition.

    The 21st of March is World Down Syndrome Day, but does sending our children to school in odd socks really transform people’s thinking about the condition? Disability support should be a strategic, year-round priority which informs the culture of organisations – and shouldn’t higher education providers, as the ultimate symbols of knowledge and understanding in our society, be leading the way?

    This is not to say that changing any organisation’s culture is a quick or an easy process. Noel Tichy and Stratford Sharman identify three crucial steps which must be followed by strategic leaders seeking transformation – “awakening; envisioning; re-architecturing”.

    The awakening stage involves a crucial shift from complacency in the status quo, by creating a shared understanding that the establishment cannot and should not continue in its current incarnation and needs to evolve. In the case of disabled colleagues, this deep understanding of the changes needed can only be achieved in consultation with those who are experiencing – first-hand and over time – the issues with the working environment and the general approach towards disability support.

    Making this a “whole organisation” approach to consultation can be an opportunity to promote understanding and integration between disabled and non-disabled colleagues; research has found this to be:

    …particularly powerful in bringing about change as it removed the onus from the individual and avoided disabled people being singled out.

    While many universities have initiatives and working groups to consult with, and support, disabled students, researchers and staff, the socio-political landscape within which we are all immersed is impossible to ignore.

    The current toxic, divisive rhetoric about people claiming sickness and disability benefit, and how they are costing the hard-working taxpayer too much money, could not be further from the positive vision of whole-organisation consultation on disability support.

    The cuts to benefits which were announced by the government last month have resulted in widespread alarm amongst the disabled community – Scope says they constitute “a catastrophe for disabled peoples’ living standards and independence”.

    The recent statement by the Secretary of State for Work and Pensions that “taxpayers are paying millions more for the cost of failure” through “spending on working age sickness and disability” actively promotes resentment and social division between those who can work, and those who cannot.

    Universities can change communities

    Against this backdrop of blame and misinformation, it is difficult for those of us with disabilities to feel that we are not viewed by at least some individuals as burdensome and problematic. However, in the absence of a cultural shift coming into universities from society, perhaps university-led initiatives can begin to build cultures which will, over time, impact their local communities.

    “Access Insights”, a project by Disabled Students UK, encapsulates this idea beautifully in their tagline, “We believe in the power of disability wisdom to better society”.

    They recognise that disabled students have a deep understanding of how accessibility can be achieved in the university environment and offers institution-specific recommendations to universities who become Access Insight members. Using a evidence-based approach, they consult with disabled students to evaluate their experiences and pinpoint what is going well, as well as what needs to be improved.

    In the same way, it is only via consultation with the disabled community and a shift in mindset away from “us and them” to “all of us together” that true accessibility in society can be achieved.

    The higher education landscape has a responsibility to set the tone and the approach to disability awareness and support – the Access Insight model provides a blueprint for how organisations can begin to consult on, and take accountability for, their strengths and weaknesses in relation to disability support.

    For me as a disabled student, I have a responsibility to speak up and show my university how they can make my course truly accessible; and my university has the responsibility to listen and to respond.

    The question now is – can there be a wider impact for communities and society, if higher education providers demonstrate what truly inclusive environments could look like? The answer is out there for the taking – one conversation, one blog piece, at a time.

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  • Supporting disabled women in academia matters. Here’s why

    Supporting disabled women in academia matters. Here’s why

    In March 2024 on International Women’s Day, I launched the Disabled Women in Academia Group.

    It is a sub-group of the National Association of Disabled Staff Networks (NADSN) – for those who identify as a woman (or non-binary) at any career stage and from any area working in universities.

    The group – set up with the support of Jacquie Nicholson and Hamied Haroon, Vice Chair and Chair of NADSN, aims to provide an inclusive space where all women feel they can join if they wish.

    Sessions take place online and each session focuses on a specific topic, or we have a guest speaker.

    I set up the group because I felt there was a gap in the market. While we already had schemes like Aurora and the Women in Academia Support Network, there wasn’t a specific space for disabled women to meet. Data from Advance HE (2024) clearly indicates both women and disabled individuals are underrepresented in senior roles at universities.

    Given this, it is therefore apparent that disabled women are going to be even more underrepresented in these roles.

    Of course, not everyone wishes to hold a senior role in a university, but disabled women deserve the right to thrive as much in the university setting as other groups.

    Leadership and aspiration

    A second reason I wished to set up the group was to enable disabled women to develop a sense that they could be leaders if that’s what they aspired to be.

    There are already leadership schemes like Aurora for women, 100 Black Women Professors NOW by the Women in Higher Education Network, and Calibre, a leadership programme to support disabled staff in higher education and the NHS.

    While this is not a formalised leadership programme or scheme, we do have discussions around leadership and career progression within our sessions. We need to be having these discussions as it is often the case that disabled women are perceived by others as less able due to the ableist nature of academia.

    Jacinda Arden in her role as New Zealand’s Prime Minister redefined what leadership is for women and demonstrated that leaders could have those traits of compassion, show emotion, and remain effective leaders. Such groups like the Disabled Women in Academia Group create that safe space when we are engaging in that process.

    The group has run for a year now and it is one of the things I most enjoy doing. I get to meet lots of different women, and we have built up a real sense of collegiality.

    I have learnt a lot about the challenges we face as disabled women and strategies to address those challenges. I have learnt about the importance of leadership and that the higher education sector needs people to be working together to bring about real change to support students and staff (see NADSN’s RIDE Higher which is developing a framework to support disabled staff in higher education institutions).

    The costs of coordination

    However, this advocacy work, on behalf of ourselves and others carries with it an emotional cost. A colleague mentioned to me a book by Katherine May ‘Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Uncertain Times’.

    Having a disability or chronic illness can bring with it uncertainty, especially if symptoms are unpredictable or we are awaiting medical treatment.

    During these times we may need to engage in a period of “wintering” – here I am not referring to the actual season of winter – Katherine May uses it as a metaphor and acknowledges we can “winter” anytime, where we focus on ourselves and develop strategies that work for us, replenish our resources and subsequently come out in the spring rejuvenated and ready to face the world again.

    For me, the Disabled Women in Academia Group provides a safe space to do this and fuels my hope of a more equitable environment for disabled women going forward.

    Acknowledgments: Thanks to Jacquie Nicholson and Dr Hamied Haroon for comments on an earlier version and supporting the work of the Disabled Women in Academia Group.

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  • Everyone can play a role in removing barriers for autistic colleagues

    Everyone can play a role in removing barriers for autistic colleagues

    The complex rhetoric around neurodivergence, ranging from the politically unhinged to persistent gas lighting, requires us to start by defining autism.

    Autism, a form of neurodivergence, is a naturally occurring neurodevelopmental variation that manifests in differences in how people experience and interact with the world.

    The focus is often on communication “deficits” and “repetitive and rigid” behaviour but, quite frankly, this focus and these words say more about how non-autistic (allistic) people interpret our behaviour and their own discomfort with the same.

    Our own experiences of being autistic are a lot more expansive and encompass autistic joy and strengths, alongside the significant and often unnoticed challenges we experience day-to-day.

    At different points in time, we both made the conscious, and somewhat fraught, decision to share our autism diagnoses in professional contexts. For the most part we were hugely relieved to be met with compassion from colleagues and a desire to support us to make the necessary changes to level the playing field.

    Yet, in the background of these positive experiences, there is a near-constant battle with systems, processes and neuronormative expectations that undermine individual attempts to be supportive.

    We wanted to share the biggest challenges we’ve faced in sharing our diagnoses and attempting to build afresh work practices and environments that will allow us to thrive.

    Attempts to normalise

    On more than one occasion after sharing our diagnoses, we’ve both been met with responses along the lines of “we’re all a bit like that though”.

    While we assume these comments are intended to “normalise” our experiences and perhaps reassure us that we’re not that different, such comments are somewhat missing the point.

    Firstly, autistic people are human too, so our autistic traits are very much part of the human condition. For example, the struggles we face in some social contexts may be experienced by allistic people sometimes.

    And our desire to seek refuge in routines is something many people can relate to, particularly in times of great upheaval. What sets our experiences apart is the depth, duration and the degree to which these experiences impact our capacity to thrive.

    Secondly, late discovery or diagnosis often comes about after a lifetime of deeply felt misunderstandings and a perpetual sense of being somehow wrong. The challenges autistic people face have very real implications such as significant impact on mental wellbeing alongside higher risks of substance abuse, accidents and offending behaviour as well as lower levels of income and education.

    Poor employment outcomes and high rates of autistic burnout are often part and parcel of being autistic. Notably, suicide is a leading cause of early death for autistic people.

    While finally getting answers to a lifetime’s worth of questions is broadly positive, never underestimate how earth-shattering a late discovery or diagnoses can be. It can completely unmoor you from an identity you worked hard to craft and maintain, often over many decades.

    To be set adrift whilst trying to carry on “business as usual” can be incredibly disorienting and well-meaning comments intended to find common ground can feel dismissive and leave us, once again, feeling misunderstood.

    To receive a diagnosis can be confirmation (or even a revelation) that you have been leaning on masks and performativity this whole time, borrowing bits of behaviour and social styles from others, in order to keep up with fast-paced workplace dynamics.

    But if our identity is a mosaic of other people’s characteristics, who exactly are we? We therefore often find that the diagnosis we hoped would answer our questions, instead serves up a hearty existential crisis. Coupled with the need to continue functioning both in personal and professional contexts, whilst running that background process, can be exhausting.

    The adjustments minefield

    Often a motivating factor in sharing an autism diagnosis is the need to access workplace adjustments, though it should be noted you don’t need a diagnosis to do so.

    What many people won’t realise is that identifying the adjustments you need, and getting these put in place, often feels like a full-time job in and of itself. We’ve both experienced scenarios where we’ve been encouraged to share what we need to work at our best, only to find ourselves somewhat stumped.

    We’ve defaulted to so many complex and energy-consuming workarounds to overcome the barriers in our environment, that it can be hard to pick apart common workplace challenges from those which come about from being part of a neurominority.

    Plus, autistic people aren’t often comfortable around change, so if we’ve established a workaround, it can be difficult to consider an alternative, despite how much more efficient it could be!

    This is the nature of having differences that are somewhat invisible – you don’t realise that everyone isn’t quietly battling the same complexities.

    What we have both realised is that it’s essential to have the time and space for ongoing conversations around our evolving understanding of our needs. Too often the default is to use prescriptive forms and processes to put adjustments in place, whereas we have both benefitted from ongoing dialogue with managers who are committed to ensuring the barriers we experience are removed, in as much as possible.

    Our hope is that more people will start to understand that a diagnosis or discovery, and the sharing of this new understanding, should form the start of a conversation, rather than an outcome to be compensated for.

    Neuronormative expectations

    The majority of people will be blissfully unaware of what we mean by neuronormative expectations because, if you’re neurotypical, it’s likely that you subscribe to the dominant social norms without much effort.

    Most people, for example, assume good eye contact means you’re paying attention, and arriving late, particularly persistently, indicates a lack of commitment and/or interest. If you’re autistic, lack of sustained eye contact can be used to aid concentration, especially when processing auditory information, and lateness can be down to a multitude of reasons from difficulty with transitions to the need to avoid the ‘chit chat’ that often precedes the start of something.

    It’s also worth noting that these norms are culturally located and direct eye contact, for example, is considered disrespectful or invasive in some countries. It’s a wonder to both of us then that such subjective meanings and interpretations have become normalised standards that we are somewhat required to adhere to, to be accepted.

    Indeed, research indicates that even subtle deviations from these arbitrary social norms can result in autistic adults being incorrectly perceived as being deceptive and lacking credibility and that neurotypical peers are less willing to interact with autistic people based on social assessments made in a split second.

    It is also worth noting that we may well be thinking about all of the above whilst trying to judge the correct level of eye contact to be making; this is just part of the complex backroom processing and calculations we do on a daily basis!

    With all of this in mind we’d encourage colleagues to think about assumptions around what it means, and looks like, to undertake certain activities that most assume shared understanding of.

    We can certainly identify a range of areas where our interpretations diverge, such as notions around communicating effectively, networking or being professional.

    A good example is the way in which we’ve co-written this piece, which has come about through an initial text based online interaction, followed by asynchronous collaboration. At the time of finalising this piece we have still never “met” online or in person but have engaged in a rich exchange of ideas that have allowed for meaningful collaboration.

    If colleagues could be open to alternative interpretations and manifestations of social norms, higher education would be the richer for it.

    Allyship is needed

    With these challenges in mind there are things that can be done to support late-diagnosed colleagues. Essentially these centre around allyship and actively working to acknowledge discrimination and unconscious bias.

    Consider how you respond when someone shares their autism discovery or diagnosis

    Can you approach the conversation with curiosity, accepting that the experience of being autistic might, in fact, be very different from your own? Central to this is recognising the limitations of your knowledge and experience.

    It is a natural response to want to normalise your experience with the person sharing their diagnosis with you, but that may not be the comfort you expect it to be, and might accidentally undermine the identity they are still coming to terms with.

    Rather than saying “I do that too”, or “aren’t we all a little bit like that though?”, create a space where the person sharing their diagnosis with you can take time to form their own words, and be sure to centre them in the words you use with them.

    What part do you have to play in removing barriers

    For us, everyone has a role to play in removing barriers that prevent us from thriving. Whether directly as a manager supporting autistic colleagues to navigate often overly complicated HR processes, or as a peer becoming aware that your colleagues need to do things in a different way.

    You don’t need to know someone’s diagnosis to be an ally, you can simply start by identifying if there are moments you default to your preferred ways of doing things while inadvertently overlooking a colleague’s genuine need to things differently. If you come across resistance that is inexplicable to you, withhold judgement and instead become curious about alternative ways of thinking and being.

    Reflect on what norms and expectations you assume

    Assumed shared understanding and narrow interpretations of behaviour is the space where most unconscious bias sits. The reality is that the imaginary social contract we have all supposedly signed is just that – a fiction that not all of us have been granted access to.

    Can you make space to co-create shared understanding around what it means to “communicate”, for example? Can you become aware of your bias that “good communication” manifests through narrowly defined behaviours? Or can good communication also be non-spoken, asynchronous or graciously feature enthusiastic interruption, or deep dive monologues?

    Ultimately, whether you are an individual in whom an autistic colleague quietly confides, a senior manager with the agency to affect positive change, a HR professional implementing processes, or someone involved in developing policy – everyone has a part to play in making higher education a place where autistic people can thrive.

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  • Time to address disability inclusion for university staff

    Time to address disability inclusion for university staff

    Staff wellbeing is important for all organisations.

    This is especially evident in higher education where research indicates that staff wellbeing impacts on the student experience, the metric that drives the sector.

    In particular, reports demonstrate that stress and burnout is higher in university staff than in the general population, reflecting systemic factors such as high workloads and insecure contracts.

    There has been a greater focus on this issue in recent years and staff wellbeing is acknowledged within the University Mental Health Charter. However, as the sector is squeezed financially, staff are being placed under even greater pressure to do more with less, further placing staff wellbeing at risk.

    Such issues are likely to disproportionately impact those with protected characteristics – including disabled staff. However, nowhere is the need for staff support more apparent than in relation to equality and diversity, where the focus on student experience typically leaves a void for staff: For example, Universities UK notes:

    We believe that anyone who would benefit from a university education should have access to one. But more than that, we want to support our members in creating inclusive environments where all students enjoy their experience and achieve their study and career goals.” (emphasis added)

    But what about disabled staff?

    Data from Advance HE reveal that 6.8 per cent of staff in higher education have disclosed a disability, with the Higher Education Statistics Agency (HESA) reporting this as 15,155 academic staff and 16,320 staff in non-academic roles (though the latter figure represents only those providers that complete this, optional part of the underlying HESA submission). Given that 24 per cent of working age adults have a disability and 17.3 per cent of students declare a disability, disabled staff are vastly under-represented in higher education. Representation is especially problematic for academics, as declarations are consistently higher among professional and support staff. It is likely that the rates of disabled staff are impacted by a range of factors including a reluctance to disclose, with sharing a disability likened to “coming out”.

    Even the words “disclosure” and “declare” themselves suggest that sharing your disability is something to be concerned about; hence inclusive language is important in all discussions of disability. Disclosure is, of course, particularly important for staff with non-visible disabilities who may otherwise not have their impairments acknowledged. Being visible is also central to challenging ableism and collective advocacy.

    Disabled staff face a number of barriers to inclusion. For example, line management support is inconsistent and disabled staff experience glass partitions and ceilings that limit both horizontal and vertical movement. It should, however, be emphasised that disabled staff are not a homogenous group.

    Staff with a range of impairments are included within available data, including those disclosing specific learning differences and longstanding illness or health conditions. Further, some staff disclose multiple disabilities, impairments and conditions. Care should be taken to understand the experiences of staff with specific conditions or condition types and to acknowledge the extent to which experiences differ both across and within categories of disability.

    Staff are legally protected by the Equality Act (2010) which requires workplaces to make reasonable adjustments for impairments. Negotiating this process can, however, be exhausting for staff who have to advocate for themselves and make a case for how the employer should operationalise the weasel word “reasonable”. Staff can be encouraged to disclose disabilities though an improved commitment to support, for example by universities being flexible in their application of accommodations and line managers being given training to appreciate that staff may have fluctuating conditions and that the same impairment can impact staff differently.

    Wider support is also welcomed through government initiatives such as Access to Work, though accessing timely support is challenging in the UK context where reported wait times for assessment have increased significantly.

    Disabled Staff Networks can be a core part of the support for workers with impairments; these can offer a place for social connection, an empathic ear, and a place where staff can share experiences and strategies to respond to workplace challenges. In addition, the National Association of Disabled Staff Networks (NADSN) connects and represents disabled staff networks; here members share resources, promote events and work together to bring about change. NADSN has been supporting disabled staff networks to drive real policy change within higher education institutions (HEIs) and, over the past decade, has responded to national consultations and contributed to policy development thus amplifying the voices of all disabled staff and providing challenge to colleagues leading equality, diversity and inclusion (EDI); there are excellent resources on their website for anyone wanting to learn more.

    While NADSN’s work has been powerful for disabled staff, there is a lack of wider support from influential organisations to drive equality and diversity in relation to disability in universities. Important progress is being made in highlighting key issues relating to race and gender; in particular the Race Equality Charter and Athena Swan are pressing for transformative change. Although these schemes have not been without criticism, they have increased visibility of equality issues and championed a cultural shift. It is also important to recognise that intersectionality is highlighted within these charters, pertinent to staff who face more than one form of discrimination, such as disabled women in academia who benefit from support with progression. Nonetheless, a disability charter has been conspicuous by its absence.

    Work to improve disability inclusion for staff in universities is taking place, for example Evans and Zhu’s (2022) Disability Inclusion Institutional Framework stresses an integrated approach to disability inclusion, and places equal emphasis on staff and student disability inclusion. They argue that if disability inclusion is to improve for students we need to start with staff. There are also excellent examples of work such as podcasts sharing experiences of disability in HE; these increase visibility of disability, help to connect the community, and promote learning from each other. Within research, disability is being addressedand there is greater focus in both policy and practice on the development of anti-ableist research cultures that enable disabled researchers and professional services colleagues. Also pressing for change is the University Mental Health Charter where wellbeing of staff is acknowledged within domain 3 and inclusivity noted as an enabling theme; the charter describes the challenges that staff have to navigate such as issues with adjustments, social barriers, and the impact of the built environment.

    What’s next?

    More focus and commitment is needed to respond to disability initiatives and drive impactful change. In 2022 colleagues who had met via NADSN began discussing how to respond to this need. Rather than creating a charter like the examples above, we set out to develop a mechanism to encourage universities to share best practice relating to the inclusion of disabled staff. RIDE Higher, standing for “Realising the Inclusion of Disabled Employees” in Higher Education, was born and today it is a core initiative of NADSN.

    RIDE Higher is chaired by Melanie Best of the University of Wolverhampton, and run by and for disabled staff working in higher education; our steering group includes staff from HE institutions across the UK (Please connect with us through NADSN’s news page and social media channels). Its mission is to change the HE landscape and ensure that disabled employees are seen, valued, and can thrive.

    RIDE Higher is committed to a research-informed approach to driving disability inclusion across the sector. Central to this initiative, is the need for better understanding the lived experience of disabled staff working in higher education. This is why RIDE higher is launched the first National Disabled Staff Survey (NDSS) during Disability History Month, which fittingly, focussed on “livelihood and employment” this year.

    We invite all staff who are Disabled, Deaf, Neurodivergent and living with a long-term health condition in UK universities to share their experiences with us  We welcome your perspectives, whatever your role in the university, whether your experiences of disability are visible or non-visible, whether you have a diagnosis confirmed or not, and whether you have disclosed your impairment or health condition to your university or not. We acknowledge that identity is complex and that you may have an impairment but not identify as disabled; we welcome your input however you choose to identify.

    Acknowledgements: As authors we would like to thank those who provided peer feedback during the development of this article including the RIDE Higher steering group (Melanie Best, Hamied Haroon, Dan Goodley, Elisabeth Griffiths, Meredith Wilkinson, Gayle Brewer, and Anica Zeyen).

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  • The courts are slowly clarifying universities’ duty of care

    The courts are slowly clarifying universities’ duty of care

    Imagine you’re a student, a member of staff, a parent or even an MP trying to work out what type, level or nature of “duty of care” is owed by a university to students.

    The other day Janet Daby, whose day job is Minister for Children, Families and Wellbeing but who also moonlights as a kind of spokesperson for HE given that Jacqui Smith is in the Lords, was asked about duty of care.

    Her answer was as follows:

    The department’s position is that a duty of care in HE may arise in certain circumstances. Such circumstances would be a matter for the courts to decide, based on the specific facts and context of the case being considered, and will be dependent on the application by a court of accepted common law principles.

    That’s unhelpful enough – but the courts don’t seem to be very clear either. Of relevance down this rabbit hole, there’s a fairly lurid bit of press coverage doing the rounds on a case involving a law student at Cambridge who has sued the university for its refusal to award him a PhD.

    The Mail, with its usual insinuative air quotes, runs the headline as follows:

    Cambridge law student sues university after he failed his PhD, claiming it held up his career as a barrister because he was “less able” to write a thesis.

    The case itself is interesting because of the way in which the judge in a recent appeal has differentiated between different bits of law that are supposed to protect students.

    And in a context of disabled students routinely reporting problems with the way in which reasonable adjustments are delivered, there could be significant implications, depending on what happens next, for practice in the future.

    Background

    Jacob Meagher is a disabled PhD student at Cambridge who alleges that he was not provided with an adequate supervisor or advisor, and was denied certain scholarships – acts which he claims were acts of victimisation.

    He previously brought a claim against the university on those issues in 2017, and reached a settlement in 2019 which involved him restarting his PhD. But he alleges he was subjected to a number of detriments after the settlement – crucially, that in connection with his PhD examination, the university was aware of the adjustments he needed to avoid a disadvantage because of his disability, but failed to provide them.

    That’s partly because they had been recommended by the university’s Accessibility and Disability Resource Centre (ADRC) in a plan, but not implemented in the department, which is the sort of scenario that Disabled Students UK’s research suggests is common.

    That, Meagher claims, led to a suicide attempt and hospital admissions – things he claims the university was made aware of but refused to help or support him. Then following complaints, the university recognised the issues with the initial viva and is working to ensure a fair process for his re-examination.

    But even though the university agreed to let the student re-defend his thesis and implement reasonable adjustments, he took the university to court for several reasons:

    • The case includes additional claims beyond the failure to implement reasonable adjustments during the initial viva. He alleges various breaches of the Equality Act 2010, including victimisation and discrimination, stemming from incidents throughout his PhD program. These include claims of inadequate supervision, vetoing of scholarships, and mishandling of complaints.
    • Meagher is seeking compensation for damages already incurred. He claims that the university’s actions have caused him financial losses, including missed opportunities for a tenancy as a barrister due to the delay in completing his PhD. He is also seeking general damages for the distress and harm to his mental health caused by the university’s alleged actions.
    • He is seeking a legal declaration that the university unlawfully discriminated against him, validating his claims and potentially influencing future practice at the university. He is also seeking to clarify legal issues concerning the university’s obligations ahead of that agreed re-examination.

    The university or individuals?

    When he initially brought his claim in August 2023, he included six individuals as defendants in the case – all senior employees of the university that held specific leadership roles within the departments and committees relevant to his complaints.

    He argued that in addition to the liability of their employer under section 109, section 110 of the Equality Act 2010 allows individuals to be held personally liable for acts of discrimination committed in the course of their employment.

    Meagher’s argument was that these individuals, by virtue of their positions, were responsible for the university’s decisions and actions that he alleged were discriminatory and caused him harm. So he sought a declaration from the court that these individuals had discriminated against him, in addition to the declaration sought against the university.

    The university’s legal team argued that including these individuals as defendants provided no tangible benefit to Meagher as the university had acknowledged its liability for discriminatory acts committed by its employees, and that the claims against them were duplicative and unnecessarily increased the cost and complexity of the legal proceedings.

    The County Court Judge hearing the initial applications in the case agreed with the university’s arguments and struck out the claims against the individuals, citing the “Jameel principle” that allows the courts to strike out claims that are technically valid but considered an abuse of process due to the disproportionate costs and burden they impose on the defendants compared to the potential benefit to the claimant.

    And on appeal, a High Court judge has now agreed – hence the headlines. But it’s where the High Court has disagreed with the County Court where things get interesting.

    Breach of contract?

    In the County Court, Meagher argued that the university’s failure to implement adjustments recommended by the ADRC for his viva constituted not just breaches of the Equality Act 2010, but also breaches of contract and tort – and once you’re in that space the legal principles of foreseeability of harm, and the duty of care in providing services with reasonable skill and care, kick in.

    On the duty to avoid foreseeable harm, the principle basically means that individuals and organisations have a legal responsibility to take reasonable steps to prevent harm that is reasonably foreseeable as a consequence of their actions or omissions. If the Court determines that the harm Meagher experienced (e.g. psychological distress, academic setbacks) was a foreseeable consequence of the university’s failure to implement the adjustments, that would strengthen his claim for breach of contract and tort.

    Then there’s the duty of care in carrying out a service with reasonable skill and care issue. That’s enshrined in section 49 of the Consumer Rights Act 2015, and also applies under common law principles of negligence – and requires service providers, in this case, the university, to exercise reasonable skill and care in the provision of their services to consumers, in this instance, Meagher as a student.

    The question in this case is whether the university, by failing to implement the adjustments recommended by its own ADRC, breached this duty of care by not conducting his PhD viva with the requisite skill and care, considering his disability. Meagher argues that the university’s failure to implement the ADRC’s recommendations, which he says were specific to his needs and aimed at ensuring a fair and accessible assessment process, constitutes a breach of this duty.

    And at the heart of all that is the question of competence standards and how they intersect with reasonable adjustments for disabled students under the Equality Act 2010.

    Competence standards

    Competence standards are essentially the academic benchmarks used to assess whether a student has attained the necessary knowledge, skills, and abilities for a particular qualification. You’ll recall from the Natasha Abrahart case that there was disagreement about whether presenting in-person to a lecture theatre was itself a required competence, or merely a way of assessing competence that could be (reasonably) adjusted.

    The Equality Act doesn’t require universities to adjust competence standards to accommodate disabled students – but it does require universities to make reasonable adjustments to the assessment processes used to evaluate a student’s competence.

    This distinction is crucial in Meagher’s case because he argues that the university’s failure to implement certain adjustments, specifically those recommended by the ADRC, resulted in him being disadvantaged in demonstrating his competence during his viva.

    He argues that requiring him to take the viva in a standard format, without the recommended adjustments, placed him at a substantial disadvantage due to his disabilities, and that they were necessary to enable him to fairly demonstrate his understanding of the subject matter and meet the PhD competence standard.

    Meagher proposed that his PhD assessment be based on an analysis of his published academic papers, a method already used for university staff, rather than a traditional thesis. He requested a legally-qualified editor to proofread his thesis for aesthetic and presentation standards, along with significant restructuring or adjustments to the viva process. His proposed adjustments included written feedback from examiners on areas needing improvement, followed by revisions and reassessment, as well as receiving written questions and a detailed agenda seven days prior to the viva to reduce anxiety.

    To further support his needs, Meagher requested oral questions be linked to specific thesis sections in active voice, pauses and breaks after oral questions for cognitive processing, and the ability to write down questions for clarity. He also sought the option to clarify ambiguous questions with examiner explanations and breaks of at least ten minutes every hour to manage fatigue and maintain focus during the viva.

    The Student Support Document (SSD) created by the ADRC included much of that – but Meagher says that the university failed to provide it to the examiners before the viva, leaving them unaware of his disabilities and the necessary adjustments – only providing a list of adjustments. He also alleges that adjustments to the viva format were not made – the examiners, he says, failed to avoid unnotified topics, clearly signpost questions, and accommodate the thesis format.

    He was then granted an interim injunction against the university in July 2024 preventing it from taking any action over his PhD course or examination without consent from both parties pending the conclusion of the legal proceedings.

    Two big issues

    In other words, there are two things going on. On the one hand, in the discrimination arguments the student wants clarity over the reasonable adjustments/competence standards issue before that re-examination issue goes ahead.

    Depending on what happens next, there could be significant implications across the sector as it continues to try to wrangle reasonable adjustments to assessment and the differences between competence standards in a subject that shouldn’t change, and mere methods for assessing them that could.

    On the other hand, the potential compensation would be higher if Meagher was able to make the contract/tort arguments for a breach of contract and the implied duty to act with reasonable skill and care. Crucial there is whether, once it was agreed, the plan from the ADRC became part of the contract with the student – where if so we’re into avoiding foreseeable harm and so on. And that matters because it looks like it could create a form of duty of care.

    On that issue, in the County Court Meagher argued that the failure to implement adjustments for his viva constituted breaches of contract and tort – but the judge reasoned that that was an attempt to improperly import the statutory duty to make reasonable adjustments under the Equality Act 2010 into contractual and duties of care.

    But on appeal in the High Court, the contract and tort claims have been reinstated – the judge found that the County Court judge had got it wrong on “you’re trying to use two bits of law on one issue,” and argued that once it had agreed them, the university had separate contractual and tortious duties to implement the recommendations, irrespective of whether those recommendations aligned with the reasonable adjustments duty under the Equality Act.

    And so that’s where things now get very interesting – because of who the pressure goes on now in any tug of war between professional services and academics that disabled students often find themselves in.

    Where will the pressure fall?

    It is possible that the pressure goes onto academic departments. If universities face potential legal liability for breaches of contract or tort when they fail to implement their reasonable adjustment plans, that could strengthen the hand of frustrated disabled students, and strengthen the authority of disability services departments within universities to ensure that their recommendations are given due weight and followed through.

    It could also mean better training for academic staff on disability law, or clearer procedures for communicating and implementing reasonable adjustments so academic departments are aware of their obligations.

    But it’s also possible that the risk of legal action causes universities to pressure their professional disability staff to be more cautious in creating and publishing reasonable adjustment plans that they could later be held to account over. They may put in steps like ensuring relevant academics agree first, slowing down already slow processes. There may also be a chilling effect on adjustments that beleaguered staff know will be hard to get academic staff to agree to.

    And of course there’s more to run here – in the eventual potential outcome of the case – on what is and isn’t a reasonable adjustment to a PhD viva as a method of assessment.

    What is clear is that the chances of an individual student having the money, time or smarts to take a case as far as Meagher has so far are slim. It also remains the case that disabled students’ rights in areas like this are desperately unclear, that the legal frameworks surrounding them interact in potentially unhelpful ways, and their access to support is heavily restricted once at the end of their course.

    Someone, somewhere – perhaps OfS’ Disability in Higher Education Advisory Panel – needs to grip these issues properly. And next time Janet Daby is forced to issue an answer like “well it’s for the courts to decide”, perhaps she could remind herself and her boss in the other place that she’s a lawmaker.

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  • Positive change for disabled researchers might need managing and leading

    Positive change for disabled researchers might need managing and leading

    Among the university initiatives which aim to amplify traditionally marginalised voices, disabled researchers are now throwing their metaphorical hats into the ring.

    I am a member of a disabled researchers’ network and in a recent meeting, the question we asked ourselves were central to the raison d’être of the group.

    How do we position ourselves? How do we manage the strength that comes with having a diverse group, while ensuring that all voices are heard equally? And – perhaps most crucially – what are the positive outcomes towards which we can orientate our group and our activities, within the existing structures?

    Perhaps thinking about this via the lens of the overused yet helpful notion of “leadership and management” could help to clarify the tensions and dichotomies facing disabled students and inform next steps.

    Vital functions

    Leadership and management have separate and “vital functions” within any organisation – management is focused on efficient and reliable operations day-to-day, while leadership drives an organisation into the future.

    These two concepts, so often put together and both crucial for an organisation to flourish, in some ways work against each other – as Professor Tony Bush explains,

    Managerial leadership is focused on managing existing activities successfully rather than visioning a better future.

    “Management” inevitably involves some element of instinctive resistance to change which threatens to destabilise routines and known outcomes. In my experience and from the personal anecdotes of disabled colleagues, it is apparent that we have experienced inflexibility in processes and resistance to adjustments which would have facilitated our research activities.

    Maybe at least some of this resistance comes from a fear that equilibrium would be disrupted; giving the benefit of the doubt seems helpful in avoiding the “us” and “them” stance which is an obstacle to positive collaboration and moving beyond the past to the desired future.

    The reality is that this is difficult to navigate. When our voice is an unexpected interruption, when the thorny issue of inclusive practices is raised, relationships can be affected. How can we lead the research environment within HE towards being more truly inclusive without ruffling too many feathers?

    Leadership demands the flexibility to move towards future aims, or in the words of Roselinde Torres, being:

    …courageous enough to abandon a practice that has made you successful in the past.

    While we might not want the HE sector to “abandon” all current practices, it is apparent that change is needed to ensure true equality of access and opportunity. A model of “success” which marginalises disabled researchers is not true success; our argument is difficult to refute, and I’m sure nobody would openly do so.

    However, agreement in principle is not the same as action in practice.

    Fine by me

    Everyone readily agrees with the idea of an inclusive research environment; but not everyone is proactively engaged in making this a reality, particularly when it disrupts the status quo.

    Perhaps the crucial difference in perspective between the manager and the leader is that of immediate deliverables versus long-term strategic outcomes; and perhaps this can be used to consider the collective in the wider context of the university.

    As disabled researchers, we are our own “leaders”; a label we may not seek out or desire, but which nonetheless can be seen in our daily activities, thought processes and planning.

    We have to think ahead, mitigating barriers which non-disabled researchers simply do not have to navigate; and this difference is nobody’s fault, but it is useful to be aware of it in this discussion. This art of looking ahead is identified by Torres as one of the necessary traits for effective leadership; she explains:

    “Great leaders are not head-down. They see around corners, shaping their future, not just reacting to it.

    My point isn’t to suggest that disabled researchers are somehow better leaders than their non- disabled colleagues; but we have developed certain characteristics out of sheer necessity. As disabled researchers, indeed disabled individuals, we have to “lead” from the outset to overcome the barriers which are our daily reality.

    Encountering barriers

    We may face the uncertainty which comes with managing a chronic, long-term condition which dictates whether we are well enough to work on a specific date, at a specific time, and over which we have no control. For me, my modus operandi is to work ahead of every deadline – often perceived as being over-competitive – because I know that I may suddenly be forced into a work hiatus which, without this buffer, would put me behind.

    We may encounter access issues – workspaces, and transport to those workspaces, which do not meet our most basic needs. Physical barriers – often assumed to be the most readily addressed – still exist. We may need to call ahead to ensure that we can simply get into the room – let alone have a seat at the table. In 2024, it feels like we should be further along than this.

    As disabled researchers, in work and in life, we are in strategy mode constantly; looking ahead around every corner; planning for the next barrier we need to demolish if we are to continue moving forward.

    We are forced to strategize – even when we don’t want to. Therein, perhaps, lies the rub.

    Because we are proactive in reducing our barriers, we have an expectation or at the very least a hope that our colleagues, managers and in the broadest sense our employers will adopt the same stance.

    When this is reduced to box-ticking exercises rather than a meaningful, consultative approach, this damages morale. When we must ask for adjustments – sometimes more than once – resentment builds; and if adjustments are promised then not delivered, relationships can suffer irrevocable damage.

    We lead because we have to

    Yet we continue to “lead” on this out of necessity; our voices are loudest on these issues for the simple reason that it impacts us the most, especially when organisations don’t get it right. From the discussions we’ve had within our network, I know that this can be a lonely experience, with researchers feeling marginalised, unable to voice their concerns to a listening ear, and finding that speaking out can result in feeling left out.

    So how can we move collectively towards change? Perhaps we can take inspiration from the eight-step change model proposed by leading business consultant John Kotter. Here, a structured approach is described which will move a workforce collectively towards change.

    Perhaps one of the most useful elements of Kotter’s framework is Step 2: “Build a guiding coalition”. What does this mean? It means that individuals of influence and power within an organisation need to be involved in change, or it may be rejected. This is a viable model: disabled researchers partnering with stakeholders across the sector to promote our vision of a fairer, more equitable research environment where lived experience is valued and the need for a continuous programme of improvement is recognised.

    When all is said and done, this isn’t really a radical proposition. There are outcomes we want to achieve, and we need partners to achieve them. We need our voice to be heard at a strategic level. We need champions for inclusion to be nominated across the HE sectors, with a clear remit to work with disabled researchers to enact meaningful change. Activism isn’t incompatible with collaborative working any more than research is.

    Both activism and research address a need, a gap in knowledge, a difficult dilemma, or an important issue, and ask the question: how can we do better, and why aren’t we doing better? This then leads to the next research question…and the next… and the next… and so ad infinitum.

    There is no limit to how much we can learn or improve, and there should be no end to our willingness to keep learning and improving. This is surely integral to the whole ethos of higher education. We need to have open communication; create opportunities for conversations which might be challenging; and cultivate curiosity about how we can better understand one another and facilitate inclusive working environments.

    Even in the most highly competitive business arenas, research has shown that a work culture which prioritises “psychological safety” – an environment where individuals feel secure enough to share their perspectives, both positive and negative – is the gold standard for employee productivity and happiness at work.

    A recent study involving the work-life balance and happiness of women working in the financial sector concluded that:

    …having diverse teams that can be honest allows for better outcomes.

    At the heart of the change we are seeking is simply the opportunity to be honest in an environment which encourages this. So let’s blur the boundary between leadership and management; let’s have honest, if sometimes challenging, conversations; and let’s embark on this journey together.

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  • When will the reasonable adjustments merry-go-round get fixed?

    When will the reasonable adjustments merry-go-round get fixed?

    You may have missed it, but just before Christmas some new survey results emerged on the experience of disabled students that ought to be the subject of several sector-wide new year’s resolutions.

    Only 39 per cent of those who had support agreed reported having all of it implemented. 62 per cent said they had gone without some adjustments because the process of chasing them up consumed too much time and energy. And 43 per cent of disabled students reported that a staff member had treated their agreed support as a mere suggestion.

    Almost half – 48 per cent – of disabled students believed they have received lower marks on their course because an assessment was not accessible, 73 per cent had to repeatedly explain the same aspects of their disability or access needs to different staff members, and 59 per cent needed to chase up support that has already been agreed.

    And meanwhile if they’re trying to access Disabled Students Allowance(s), email turnaround times are now down to 37 days – or half a semester, as it’s more commonly known.

    It’s just not worth it

    In theory, Disabled Students UK’s now annual survey – which this year gathered 1,200 self-selecting responses from disabled students across over 80 UK higher education institutions (weighted for gender) – ought to represent a national scandal.

    While there were some small signs of improvement over issues like lecture capture, as well as the reasonable adjustments issues above, only 21 per cent of disabled students felt that their modules had been designed with accessibility in mind – a key “anticipatory” duty.

    Of those who encountered access issues, only a quarter reported having raised all of them – three in four hold back from raising because they don’t want to be seen as difficult, don’t think it will help, fear not being understood or believed by staff, or are concerned about taking resources away from other students.

    Half reported that the adjustments provided were insufficient to put them on an equal footing with peers, 43 per cent experienced staff treating agreed support as optional, and a third felt pushed from one person to the next because it was unclear who was responsible for addressing their access needs. And only 40 per cent agree that the “majority” of staff outside of Disability Services understood their legal responsibility to make reasonable adjustments.

    And over 6 in 10 of those who had adjustments agreed reported having gone without some of those adjustments because it takes too much time and energy to chase them up.

    As well as the teaching and learning experience, just 38 per cent of in-person students with physical or sensory needs found their campus environment accessible, and some 44 per cent reported having been unable to attend a teaching session or supervision in person due to an inaccessible location.

    And nearly half (46 per cent) of disabled students needing accessible student housing reported having had to pay extra to do so.

    That all takes its toll. As well as the 48 per cent that believe they received a lower mark on their course due to an assessment not being accessible, 53 per cent reported their physical health suffering at some point during their degree, and 78 per cent reported their mental health suffering.

    Maximums and minimums

    So what is to be done, and who by? One option is aspirational charter marks of the sort embodied in the Disabled Students’ Commitment – but my guess is that will never catch on as an optional because of the lack of commercial benefit to having the gong.

    Or we default back to the idea that this isn’t an aspiration, it’s a minimum – but in a fiscally tight environment characterised partly by culture wars over equality and partly over shedding already stretched staff, just as local authorities ration Education, Health and Care Plans (EHCP) for children with parents that can take them to court, it has to be at least possible that higher education providers are doing something similar.

    That’s a situation designed for regulators – but in reality, if UK Visas and Immigration (UKVI) was on the phone about to put a provider into special measures over immigration compliance, I know the panic and urgency with which previously seemingly intractable problems either in a central service or across academic departments can be fixed.

    But there is no equivalent risk, and so no equivalent urgency. And anyway, in England the Office for Students (OfS) does “minimums” regulation on outcomes – stats on getting in, on and out – and facilitates aspirations on quality experience via the TEF.

    It’s been pretty clear over the past few rounds of announced “boots on the ground” inspections that it’s only red flashing lights on the outcomes dashboard that trigger a look at experience – and even then through the optic of subject and/or partnerships, rather than the obvious differentials in experience between students with different characteristics.

    Notwithstanding some fairly shocking numbers inside some of the disability categories over graduate outcomes, the sector really isn’t too bad on disabled students outcomes.

    And so it does beg the question – what if disabled students aren’t getting the education they deserve (and have paid for), but battle on and get the outcomes anyway?

    Pillar to post

    As DK pointed out on the site back in October, OfS’ 2024 national student survey results split by student characteristics were not even accompanied by a commentary.

    Every year the Office of the Independent Adjudicator (OIAHE)’s annual report reminds us about the volume of complaints it sees from disabled students – but there’s no evidence at all that there’s a loop back into regulatory action either in England or Wales.

    The courts – including in the Abrahart case – don’t seem to be able to make their mind up about whether a failure to deliver reasonable adjustments represents a consumer protection law issue or an Equality Act 2010 issue.

    If it’s the former, regular readers won’t need a reminder here about how hard it is for students to know their rights and enforce them, in an environment where OfS has been promising improvements since its inception.

    And if it’s the latter, it’s really the Equality and Human Rights Commission that ought to be intervening – or is it?

    When it took the opportunity to clarify its interpretation of the law around reasonable adjustments following the conclusion of the appeal in the Abrahart case, the EHRC said that:

    …regulators like the OIA, and student bodies such as NUS and OfS will benefit from a clear statement of the law.

    But OfS is pretty clear that its key tool is access and participation plans – and that A&P dashboard on its website is all about outcomes, not experience.

    And anyway, the experience data that OfS does have is about disabled students being less satisfied in general – not on specific failures over the legal duties.

    And so the issue feels like it gets passed around without resolution in the same way that disabled students often experience locally, and never with strategic-level resolution or grip, either locally or nationally.

    Yes but sample size

    Of course, a self-selecting sample from a survey explicitly about being a disabled student – and promoted in that way – may not be nationally representative.

    And that’s a potential problem with the local results too. One of the things DSUK attempts to do with the results is to construct league table-able stats by provider – which this year has seen Cambridge University come out as the worst in the country.

    In a statement, a university spokesperson said:

    We take the views of our disabled students seriously. The sample size of 138 people for this survey represents just 2% of Cambridge’s disabled students. We regularly conduct higher-participation surveys and continually review our provision for disabled students.

    I can argue that as it’s a legal duty, one student credibly reporting an issue should be a scandal, but if anything, the Cambridge response highlights the wider problem – of both how much and how little we know about the scale of the issue.

    Over in the Netherlands, NSS results also highlight differentials in disabled student experience in general. But because there’s a set of extra questions that kick in on reasonable adjustments if a student is disabled, there’s also a raft of rich data on that issue too.

    That set of splits and adjustments findings is published by a body that used to just focus on disabled students – but now also works more broadly on inclusivity. With funding from the Ministry of Education, Culture and Science, ECIO supports universities in a national approach to studying with a disability and support needs and student well-being.

    It also handles what England would still call “premium funding” for disabled students, carries out customised assignments for individual providers, publishes wider research and advice on stuff like Universal Design for Learning, and generally works as an integrated enabler of the accessible education agenda.

    It is still the case that individual disabled students need to know their rights and be able to enforce them. But the emerging question is whether the Office for Students, the OIA and the EHRC are the right bodies to be passing the parcel on reasonable adjustments.

    I don’t know which of sticks, carrots or a mix of the two would be the most effective, and I don’t know whether OfS (and its emerging equivalents in Scotland and Wales) or a separate body is the right one to be driving the agenda.

    Nor do I know enough about why there’s been a sharp increase in disabled students, and the extent to which that is treated as a success inside the culture of HE, or treated with “you wouldn’t get all this in the real world” suspicion. I’ve come across both anecdotally – frequently in the same institution.

    What is clear is that universities are stretched, their staff are stretched and even (in England) OfS is stretched – and is making sure providers survive rather than highlighting the corners being cut to enable that survival.

    What is also clear is that as it stands and without a defendable dataset or a proper plan, it’s not just locally where students are needing to explain the same information about disability over and over again. Disabled students deserve better.

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