WITH hindsight, it probably wasn’t the most auspicious of days to accept an invitation to visit the Houses of Parliament.

Westminster is normally a pretty serene place, but two weeks ago it became quite anxious while the area was encircled by 50,000 protesters, mainly from academic institutions, whose frustration over proposed funding cuts and increased tuition fees turned from high-spirited chanting to something much nastier.

The hooliganism vented on the Conservative Party offices at Millbank may have satisfied some that they had given the government a bloody nose, but the images of activists shod with steel-toed boots kicking down plate-glass windows in front of bewildered and outnumbered police officers shocked the vast majority of students on the march and, at a stroke, extinguished much popular sympathy.

The cause which brought the genuine protesters onto the street is prompted by a stark reality. Gone are the days of generous state grants to cover the privilege of further education, which probably benefited many of the political legislators the demonstrators came to harangue. For today’s students, the prospect of leaving formal education in their mid-20s and embarking on a professional working life with a debt stretching well into middle-age, coupled with the bleak scramble to find employment to finance writing it off, is indeed daunting.

With tuition fees as high as £9,000 a year after 2012 being bandied about, it is a wonder that the enthusiasm for academia remains so strong. Yet the appetite appears unremitting, with demand outstripping supply.

UCAS, the body responsible for placing students on courses, reported last week that more than 200,000 failed to obtain a place on their desired course this year. That’s almost one in three who applied. I suppose we’ve grown accustomed to believing that there is an inevitable escalator from nursery to university to which every child should naturally aspire, and which most schools and colleges gear their curriculums to achieve.

You could argue that in the current climate, there are too many colleges processing too many students with too few employment opportunities. Certainly, establishments offering university degree courses have grown exponentially, particularly since 2000.

It might have been due to a genuine political desire to raise the educational base of the country’s workforce. It could also have been a attempt to provide for youngsters who might otherwise have been absorbed into technical and industrial apprenticeship schemes, which have declined along with the nation’s manufacturing base.

It could even have been a cynical exercise to keep them off the unemployment register. But that could only ever be a short-term measure, and flawed policies have a nasty habit of coming home to roost.

So now the consequences are spreading through the nation. Education is expensive and is being dispensed with a mean price ticket, with some parents even facing the dilemma of having to decide which of their prodigy they can afford to send to university. Students may indeed be forced to shop around to find the cheapest courses.

The income of colleges could be cut further if the government’s new immigration curbs limit the numbers of foreign students entering the country. According to a survey published in The Times last week, more than three-quarters of undergraduates already work to raise money to finance their courses during their final year, often to the detriment of their final exams. And this is now, even before the proposed 2012 fees increase.

THE position of students from the Channel Islands attending UK institutions is currently under discussion. They are counted as overseas students and pay almost double the basic fees charged for their UK fellows. Perversely, they might indeed gain advantage from a cut in UK government funding, as they represent a more lucrative income.

Locally, there has traditionally been a distinct feeling of privilege rather than right attached to further education. Perhaps it has something to do with the obvious need to travel to the UK, with the extra associated cost.

I remember back in the Sixties attending – with a certain amount of trepidation – an interview in one of the cabins that passed for the of the Education department’s temporary offices in Pier Road, and facing a panel of formidable scrutineers, chaired by Messers Le Marquand and Wimberley (snr), who questioned me closely about my wish to go to university, the course I had chosen and what I proposed to do with my studies – assuming I was successful.

The fact that all this was conducted against the background of subterranean explosions while the tunnel was being excavated under Fort Regent gave the proceedings even greater portent.

The provision of further education is the greatest investment in the future of the nation. It obviously comes at a price, and if publicly funded it is a judgment for government how much support it is appropriate and affordable.

Students represent the seed-corn of the next generation and a resource to be nurtured and a cost shared. There is undoubtedly a balance to be struck between the duty of the state to provide further education and the right of a group of privileged young people wanting others to pay for it. However, there is neither excuse for criminal violence by those pursuing a cherished ideal, nor for a fees free-for-all by those furnishing it. Going to ‘uni’ – a term which sends a particular chill down the spine of the purist – unquestionably broadens both life skills and experience, particularly for those from a small community. But it is only reasonable that those facilitating the privilege should expect some degree of payback.

Come to think of it, as we’ve just been reminded, it’s not a bad place to meet your future marriage partner, either!