44 Britain The EconomistAugust 24th 2019
2 parts of the country, including Cumbria
and Aberystwyth.
Students seem to prefer close-knit,
campus universities. Exeter is one exam-
ple. Others include Aston, which takes 66%
more British students than it did before the
cap was lifted; East Anglia, which takes
34% more; and Bath, which takes 24%
more. It tends to be easier to build on a
campus than in a city centre, says Mike
Nicholson, head of admissions at Bath.
And for a generation of students who party
less, study more and are often influenced
by cautious parents, campus universities
are a nice half-way point between school
and adulthood.
Universities not attracting enough stu-
dents have to adapt. Since the new system
was introduced, almost all have charged
the maximum allowed—now £9,250
($11,250) a year. Since students are entitled
to government loans, which they don’t
have to repay until they earn more than
£25,725 a year, they are relatively unfussed
by upfront costs. But price competition has
begun to emerge in the form of hefty schol-
arships. A more common way to appeal to
students is to lower the grades for entry. At
its most devious, this takes the form of of-
fers which do not require the applicant to
achieve any grades at all, provided they
make the university their first choice. Re-
cruiting students will at least get easier as
the number of 18-year-olds rises in 2021.
Improving a university’s appeal
through more reputable means is hard, but
not impossible. Coventry has shot up the
rankings, and has a 50% bigger intake than
a decade ago. In 2010 a “shocking” low
score in its student-satisfaction survey
prompted a rethink, says Ian Dunn, the
university’s provost. Now feedback is re-
quested midway through a course and stu-
dents are informed of changes made as a
result within five days. The university has
set up a college which offers degrees from
£6,350. It has also cut back joint courses,
like accounting and finance, which stu-
dents enjoyed less. Before the rules
changed, Exeter had gone further still, get-
ting rid of weak departments, including
chemistry. But nationwide, student satis-
faction is yet to rise, indicating these uni-
versities are in a minority (the measure is,
though, a lagging indicator, as students fill
in forms only after finishing their degree).
Growth is no guarantee of financial sta-
bility, as can be seen at Cardiff and Surrey,
which have taken in lots more students but
not enough to match their spending. That
is little consolation for the small number
of universities, struggling to attract appli-
cants, which are said to be near bankrupt-
cy. Changes in policy have caused a great
deal of flux in higher education. But the
growing number of students at elite uni-
versities would probably regard the flux as
a price worth paying. 7A
supertanker loadedwith oil headed
east from the Strait of Gibraltar into the
Mediterranean, bound for Greece, just be-
fore midnight on August 18th. Nothing un-
usual in that—120,000 vessels navigate the
strait each year, carrying a third of the
world’s oil and gas. But the Iranian-flagged
Adrian Darya 1was no ordinary tanker.
Days earlier she had been renamed and
reflagged, with fresh paint covering her old
identity, Grace 1. That accompanied her re-
lease from over a month of detention in Gi-
braltar, a British overseas territory. The epi-
sode not only marked the latest chapter in a
bitter struggle between Iran and America.
It also highlights Britain’s strained effort to
balance its Iran policy between American
belligerence and European emollience.
The backdrop is President Donald
Trump’s withdrawal last year from a multi-
national nuclear agreement that his prede-
cessor, Barack Obama, reached with Iran in- This deal had limited Iran’s nuclear
programme in exchange for relaxing sanc-
tions. But American sanctions were tight-
ened sharply in April under Mr Trump’s
policy of “maximum pressure”. Iran has hit
back, apparently attacking ships in the Gulf
of Oman in May and shooting down an
American spy drone on June 20th. The lat-
ter caused Mr Trump to order—and then
cancel—air strikes on Iran.
That was the febrile atmosphere on July
4th, when British marines abseiled onto
the deck of the Grace 1in Gibraltarian wa-
ters. They did so on the basis of American
intelligence suggesting the tanker’s oil was
bound for Syria, whose main refinery is un-
der eu sanctions. On July 19th Iran pro-
cured a bargaining chip by grabbing a Brit-
ish tanker, the Stena Impero, in the Strait of
Hormuz. That may have strengthened
Iran’s hand. But it was not until it promised
that the Grace 1would not be sent to Syria,
or any other forbidden destination, that Gi-
braltar agreed to release the vessel.
That was a relief to Britain. The threat of
further ship-grabs would diminish, and
Iran would probably release Britain’s
tanker in turn. But with the Adrian Darya 1’s
paint barely dry, a court in Washington, dc,
issued a warrant for its re-seizure, on the
basis that the ship was secretly controlled
by Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard
Corps, which America considers a terrorist
organisation. That cut no ice with Gibral-
tar. It pointed out that the eu’s sanctions
laws differ from America’s, and that Eu-
rope—like the rest of the world—does not
deem the Revolutionary Guards terrorists.
The diplomatic tussle has put Britain in
a tight spot. Like its European allies, it
wants Iran to stick to the nuclear agree-
ment. In January Britain spearheaded, with
France and Germany, the creation of Instex,
a barter mechanism to enable certain Eu-
rope-Iran transactions, particularly for hu-
manitarian supplies. British diplomats are
eager to soothe Iran with trade. The seizure
of the Grace 1threw a spanner in the works,
not least because Britain was prodded into
action by American intelligence.
Boris Johnson, who succeeded Theresa
May as prime minister midway through the
tanker crisis, has adopted a confrontation-
al position towards the euregarding Brexit.
He has also courted Mr Trump, who is hold-
ing out the prospect of a post-Brexit trade
deal to help cushion the British economy.
That leaves Britain’s Iran policy in a par-
lous position. Should Mr Johnson keep sid-
ing with the Europeans, he may anger
America, risking the promise of a trade
deal. But if he backs Mr Trump and heaps
pressure on Iran, he could cause the col-
lapse of the nuclear deal and a spat with Eu-
rope. “You can’t maintain that post-Brexit
you’ll be a loyal ally of European nations in
matters of security and ditch 20 years of
Iran policy by moving over to the American
side,” says Sir Richard Dalton, Britain’s am-
bassador to Iran in 2003-06.
So far Mr Johnson has sought a balance.
Whereas Mrs May tried to organise a Euro-
pean security mission for the Gulf, Mr
Johnson signed up to an American-led
scheme. John Bolton, Mr Trump’s national
security adviser, noted with pleasure that
the choice “reflects a change from the prior
government”. But the Adrian Darya 1’s re-
lease shows that even Mr Johnson is un-
willing to break with Europe and join Mr
Trump in throttling Iran. At least not yet. 7The capture and release of an Iranian
tanker shows Britain’s diplomatic bindForeign policy after BrexitAll at sea
Oil and trouble