The scene begins in Brighton, the 25th consecutive day of rain in the UK so far – the pathetic fallacy practically writes itself. I’m cerebrally glued to my phone, sucked into the endless news cycle of debt, depression and despondency. Then, like a knight in shining armour, Martin Lewis appears on my shattered iPhone screen. He’s incandescent under the fluorescent Newsnight floodlights, and he’s talking about me. Well, me and just under 3 million other university students are currently studying in the UK.
The headlines are getting increasingly difficult to brush off, as well as attempting to field the blisteringly naive questions from my younger siblings – why would I get myself into upwards of £40,000 in debt? Right now, I couldn’t tell you.
Ever since I could remember, I’ve been told I was bright enough to go further in higher education, I should absolutely try for a career in government, better yet, shoot for a lawyer. Journalism, if you must, but darling, aim for The Guardian at least. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, our little girl getting out of Hastings and into the corporate world of boardrooms and Excel spreadsheets? The fairytale was real for me, and for many of my friends, soothed to sleep by similar stories. Clean GCSEs across the board, fly through college with nothing below a B, and land a place at a respectable university. I could practically taste the high-powered, high-paying job waiting for me the minute I hit my mid-twenties. And yet, here we are. Despondent and relying on the money-saving miracle, Mr Lewis to speak for me.
Since university fees were tripled in 2012 by the coalition government, a crisis has been brewing amongst a generation of students. Saddled by crippling debt and interest rates even the most despicable of Monopoly players would be appalled by, I panic about my debt more than anything else in my life – the tearful fits threatening to drop out and stop the blood flow of cash leaking out of my future have been numerous and painful.
Student loan debt interest accrued £482 per second last year alone. Just under £29,000 in a single minute. If this were any bank or lender doing this, there would be people taking to the streets – no doubt about it. Now you try telling me that depression is just caused by spending too much time online. At least online, there is a modicum of outcry against the situation young people find themselves in after committing the crime of attempting to educate themselves.
For some reason, students who have taken out loans are being punished, and worse, expected to be grateful for the pleasure. It’s a wonder it’s taken this long for student loan debt to become a topic of national conversation, inspired in part by Chancellor Rachel Reeve’s freeze on the income threshold for repayment. Even her delightfully alliterative name can’t save her from the wrath of 2.9 million students and their families, me included. There is not a single UK political party that has been in government that has not betrayed students in one way or another. Introducing fees, tripling fees, increasing interest – the cash cow demographic.
Since the dawn of time, there have been swathes of students, young people, who have felt failed by their government in some way or another. There is no universe in which you find a generation completely satisfied with the cards dealt by their predecessors; there’s always something that’s been handed down in ever so slightly worse condition. Much like getting an older sibling’s coat missing a few buttons, there is always the sense that things were just that little bit better before. However, I’m not talking about buttons here; I’m talking about a lifelong burden placed on the shoulders of the younger generations – a fine on the future. My generation is not disposable, and not a way to plug a black hole in the budget either. Funnily enough, that’s probably the one job we don’t want!
The legacy of free education still haunts me, proof that it doesn’t have to be like this. My dad was born in a typical block of flats in Brixton (1965 – before the vape shops and artisanal bakeries took over) and grew up the son of a greengrocer. They were comfortable, not flush, but happy. Dad eventually wound up at a London university in his thirties, only the last year of his studies costing him anything at all. My mum, who started at the same university in the same year he left, eventually took time off work to raise their kids. She is still paying off her loans now.
Two adults. Two social work degrees, working for the same council. And yet.
Student loans have dominated my life, and the life of my family, since before I was even born. The cost of motherhood aside, even my parents can’t comprehend the immediate and suffocating responsibility my older sister and I respectively took on at 19. The increased fees and exponential interest rates have grown malignantly. You can’t rent a car abroad, but here, you sign a contract that will define the next 50 years of your life! I also struggle to comprehend the logic. British students look to our Scottish and Irish counterparts, and the blatant disregard of the government rankles further. Free higher education is not just feasible; it used to be the standard! The question is, why do some people not want it to be?
You’d find your answer in the hit 1976 single by ABBA. It’s all about the Money, Money, Money.
If I had to guess, I spend more time thinking about student loans than I spend awake – the SFE department has become a nightly (nightmarish) fixture of my subconscious. I wake cold, shaken and exhausted. I reach for my phone. I see Martin Lewis on Instagram. The cycle of anxiety continues.
Another article you may enjoy: https://thebadgeronline.com/2026/02/fight-night-brighton-a-night-to-remember/