Professor Mark Scott, Vice-Chancellor and President

On the wall of my meeting room at the University of Sydney are black-and-white photos of my student days, including an Open Day image from 1984, the year I first graduated.

They are quaint, dated and full of familiar reference points. Buildings that looked ancient then, like the Quadrangle, still look ancient now.

But fundamentally, they are a reminder: for this generation of students, my experiences might as well be ancient history.

No student fees. Close, affordable and accessible housing, financial support systems that never felt generous, but enabled a sustainable – if scrambling – student existence. And a confidence that graduation was a surefire pathway to good jobs and robust careers. That was the reality of student life when I studied here.

As we have welcomed back students to classes this month, I see much that triggers memories.

At our recent Welcome Fest, students gathered around club and society stalls, making friends and exploring interests. An excitable buzz at having won a place, with a new home to explore.

But, in many ways, the university and the external world are profoundly different, as are the experiences of the students themselves.

Universities are sometimes accused of being elite, but they are far more diverse and inclusive than they ever were. At Sydney, we have more students who are the first in their families to attend and far more First Nations students than when I first attended.

Many of our incoming students spent the early years of high school beset by COVID-19 lockdowns and online learning. And their later high school years saw the disruptive emergence of generative artificial intelligence.

We see increasing numbers of students who must work long hours in paid jobs and are often commuting long distances to campus. In past generations, for many students, university was their life. But now, for some, the whole experience can seem more transactional.

And at the same time, they feel less sure of the value of a university degree and more anxious about their job prospects. It can feel a long way from the halcyon, free-spirit university adventure of their parents.

Students are not just giving universities their money; they are giving us the most precious free-spirited years of their lives. We owe them a life[1]changing transformational experience, and one that equips them for a changing world.

Universities cannot assume the old compact with students still holds: that a degree alone guarantees opportunity. Rising costs, shifting expectations and technological disruption are forcing universities to rethink what a degree actually delivers.

Three key forces will define the next era: the changing value of credentials, the rise of generative AI, and the urgent need to rebuild human connection. How we respond will determine whether universities remain a compelling journey for millions of young people in this country.

Beyond credentials

Historically, many arrived on campus buoyed by the idea that a university degree alone would improve job prospects. But in a University of Sydney survey last year, only 21 per cent of our domestic undergraduates strongly agreed that “just having a degree, whatever the area of study, makes you more employable”.

Today’s students are seeking knowledge, skills and growth.

Across disciplines, from humanities and the arts to STEM and health, students are seeking the capabilities they’ll need in an uncertain graduate jobs market and beyond. This isn’t just about technical expertise. The attributes traditionally associated with humanities degrees – communication, collaboration, critical and creative thinking – are only growing more valuable.

By collaborating with industry, government and community groups, we can give students the workforce relevant skills.

It’s often these learnings that turn out to be their most memorable learning experiences.

Our veterinary students provide supervised free pet care at a pop-up clinic.

Conservatorium of Music students travel to regional and remote communities to teach children. Our dentistry students last year helped mould and fit custom mouthguards for rugby league players at the NSW Koori Knockout. Our startup programs support young entrepreneurs to build businesses while studying.

Recent participants in our Genesis startup program include three engineering undergraduates who met in class, formed a friendship then founded a business building secure, bespoke generative AI models for highly regulated industries. Even before graduating, they are taking on clients, opening an office and hiring staff.

The AI revolution

Students understand as well as anyone just how dramatically generative AI is changing life and work. Step into any university class, and you’ll find a range of views about its impact. Some students use it in every subject to deepen learning, some are concerned about the implications for academic integrity and fairness, and others may misuse it to replace hard work.

But we can’t outrun this technology. Even as we safeguard academic integrity, we must help students understand these tools they’ll use for a lifetime, equipping them with the confidence to manage the inevitable and relentless change generative AI will bring. A student who understands its challenges and opportunities will be well-placed to succeed in a fast[1]changing environment.

We simply won’t equip students adequately by banning, blocking or attempting to detect the use of these tools. Instead, we must ask deep questions about what students need from higher education in the age of AI.

This work is under way, with universities across the world adopting new approaches to assessment and course design. Students at the University of Sydney are allowed to use AI with full disclosure in open assessments, but they cannot pass their degree without demonstrating their capabilities in secure assessments, such as practical tasks, oral assessments or written exams. This helps them engage with AI effectively and responsibly, while ensuring they can prove their own knowledge and skills.

Our teachers – freed of the Sisyphean burden of detecting and policing – can focus on supporting learning. Many are discovering ways that AI can enrich teaching. Customised AI agents, steered with teacher instructions and subject-specific information, can support students one-on-one, around the clock – an impossible feat for even the most dedicated educator.

Generative AI is developing at speed in unpredictable ways. We are hurtling towards a future where engaging with this technology critically and creatively is a foundational skill – taught from childhood. It may be that students of the future spend less time recalling and reproducing information, and more on rich and authentic tasks that allow them to demonstrate the most human of qualities: curiosity, originality, collaboration, judgment and integrity. In the age of AI, these matter more than ever.

Human connection is not a ‘nice to have’

However powerful technology may become, there are parts of the university experience it should not replace. Many things have changed, but university is still the birthplace of friendships and connections that shape identity and influence lives. To rolling eyes, I tell students I met my wife as a student at Sydney. “It’s not compulsory, but worth keeping in mind,” I say.

At universities across Australia, growth has been essential to fund education and research. But there is no reason students at large universities should automatically be lonely – any more than citizens of big cities should. We’re proud of the diversity of our campuses. A large and varied student body should mean more kindred spirits to be found.

We know that a sense of belonging is strongly linked to student success but finding those connections is getting harder – especially on large and diverse campuses – and we’ve learned we can’t leave them to chance. If you have your people, then the big world becomes exciting to explore together.

And as students arrive with different backgrounds, expectations and confidence levels, we must help them find their people in more structured ways.

We’re already doing this for some – for instance, with dedicated spaces, mentoring and social programs to help students from equity backgrounds connect with peers and staff. But there is more to be done.

On-campus learning is part of it. The bulk of our teaching is delivered face[1]to-face, particularly for undergraduates. We’re backing our expert educators with time and funding to find new ways to foster connections.

Across the sector, learning environments are changing, with more live interaction and participation, shared problem-solving, and opportunities to build confidence.

According to recent research from the Sydney School of Public Health, 43 percent of Australians aged 15 to 25 feel lonely. Universities can anchor communities, but it requires sustained effort. Human connection must be stitched into the educational experience.

The civic role universities must reclaim At their finest, universities bring diverse groups together around a shared purpose. In a world where algorithms shield us from opposing views, they’re one of the few remaining public spaces where you might encounter ideas – and people – you disagree with.

This gives us a responsibility: just as we educate students for their careers, we must prepare them for their role as citizens and leaders.

Too often in recent years, we’ve fallen short here. Modelling on the worst of social media and political discourse, disagreements on our campuses have too often erupted into hostility, even fear. For the sake of our students, staff and society, we must reclaim our role as a place of robust and respectful debate, while ensuring our universities are safe and welcoming for all and free from any form of discrimination.

Sector-wide, institutions are taking strong and deliberate steps to teach the skills of disagreement. At the University of Sydney, we have workshops that teach students how to have hard conversations – learning how to disagree well while building trust amid clashing views. We’ve created new forums for open and respectful dialogue around contentious issues.

Learning not to take offence when someone thinks differently is not a soft skill; it is a democratic one. The art of persuasion is a hallmark of transformation leadership. Universities have the scale, diversity and intellectual freedom to teach it well.

The students now starting university are seeking far more than qualifications. The question facing universities now is not whether we will change. It is whether we will change fast enough to give this generation the education and the transformational experience they deserve.

This article was originally published by The Australian Financial Times.