By Herbert Kayongo | Diaspora Connect International
In any formal business arrangement, a service paid for is expected to be delivered with satisfaction, and higher education should not be an exception. Yet, in Uganda, a growing number of graduates walk away from universities armed with degrees but left to wrestle with disillusionment, joblessness, and crushing debts. This raises a critical question: Are universities delivering practical value to their students, or has higher education turned into a transactional process where knowledge is sold without guarantee of its worth?
Uganda’s tertiary institutions have increasingly come under public scrutiny due to the glaring mismatch between academic qualifications and employability. It is no longer a secret that many graduates are incapable of translating the theories taught in lecture halls into marketable skills that are relevant to the job market. The vicious cycle continues each year, where tens of thousands of students are churned out into an already oversaturated labor market, only to be met with unemployment or underemployment.
If we were to borrow from consumer protection laws, these graduates and their sponsors — be they parents, guardians, or government loan schemes — would be well within their rights to demand a refund or sue the universities for breach of “implied contract.” A university degree is no longer yielding the promised “return on investment,” and that is cause for a national conversation.
The Promise versus the Reality
For years, Ugandan families have made significant financial sacrifices to ensure their children acquire higher education qualifications. Many are driven by societal expectations and a deep-seated belief that university education is the ticket to social mobility and economic empowerment. Sponsors, often with limited incomes, rally behind students with common refrains like: “Choose a course that will guarantee you a job,” or “Find a program that will secure your future.”
However, this dream is often shattered upon graduation when students discover that their skills are either obsolete, mismatched, or irrelevant in today’s dynamic and competitive job market. The frustration is further compounded when graduates are left with the responsibility of paying back student loans, such as those issued under the government’s Higher Education Students Financing Board (HESFB), without having secured sustainable employment.
The Silent Suffering of Sponsors
Imagine a sponsor who has invested in educating ten students, each graduating with degrees from reputable universities. Their collective hope is that these graduates will secure jobs, uplift their families, and pay off educational debts, especially if loans were involved. Yet, after years of study and financial input, none of them achieves the desired employment or entrepreneurial success. The psychological and financial burden then shifts back to the sponsor, who must find alternative means to repay borrowed funds — a painful betrayal of their aspirations.
This tragic scenario is the lived experience for many Ugandan families. Parents sell land, take out bank loans, or deplete their life savings, believing in the inherent value of university education. Unfortunately, the “service” they pay for is increasingly becoming symbolic rather than transformative.
The HESFB Dilemma
The introduction of HESFB by the Ugandan government was intended to increase access to higher education among financially disadvantaged students. While noble in intent, the question that lingers is: How sustainable is this initiative if graduates lack practical skills or entrepreneurial capacity to generate income post-graduation? If the current status quo persists, the government risks creating a cycle of indebtedness, where graduates default on loans due to systemic failures rather than personal irresponsibility.
Is this not equivalent to knowledge scamming — where universities collect tuition and related fees, but the output fails to meet basic market expectations? The matter is exacerbated by institutions continuously offering outdated curricula that focus heavily on theoretical knowledge with minimal emphasis on real-world application or job market trends.
The Need for Accountability
Uganda’s higher education sector must now grapple with the pressing need for accountability. Universities are service providers, and students and their sponsors are clients. It is, therefore, reasonable to demand measurable outcomes, such as employability rates, entrepreneurial success stories, or industry partnerships that absorb graduates.
Universities must take ownership of their critical role in national development and economic productivity. Beyond graduation ceremonies and colorful gowns, institutions should be held accountable for how well their graduates integrate into and contribute to the economy.
Governments and regulators, such as the National Council for Higher Education (NCHE), must enforce minimum employability standards that universities must strive to meet. Annual audits on graduate outcomes could serve as a benchmark for quality assurance and program relevance.
The University as a Facilitator, Not Just a Lecturer
The role of universities must evolve from being mere centers of theoretical instruction to becoming facilitators of innovation, practical skills development, and entrepreneurship. Take, for instance, the modern demands of the Ugandan labor market: ICT skills, creative industries, agribusiness, digital marketing, logistics, and technical trades like welding, carpentry, and tailoring are industries ripe with opportunities. Yet, many graduates, even from business or engineering schools, emerge without mastery of basic digital tools or entrepreneurial acumen.
In contrast, informal sector workers — carpenters, welders, performing artists, and craftsmen — may lack academic certificates but possess practical skills that generate consistent income. Ironically, these skilled individuals are often labeled as uneducated or inferior by a system that fails to recognize their economic contribution.
Global Lessons and the Ugandan Context
Countries such as Canada have recently acknowledged the untapped potential of undocumented laborers in industries like construction. Instead of deporting them, the government is creating pathways to formalize their status, recognizing the economic value they bring. This progressive approach demonstrates the importance of valuing practical skills, regardless of traditional academic pathways.
Uganda can take a cue from this. Rather than allowing its talented workforce to migrate to the Middle East or Europe for opportunities, the country should rethink how higher education can integrate and enhance practical skills. A reformed system where artisans, performers, and tradespeople can access university-level programs tailored to their skills would be a transformative leap.
If approached critically, one could argue that there is a basis for jobless graduates and their sponsors to seek legal redress or compensation from institutions that failed to deliver tangible value. Of course, universities may defend themselves by citing external factors such as the national economy, lack of jobs, or student effort. However, if a consistent pattern of unemployable graduates emerges, it would reflect a systemic failure.
Beyond the legalities, the broader question is moral and economic: How long will Uganda continue producing graduates who are ill-prepared for the realities of life beyond campus? How long will sponsors continue to pour money into education systems that do not yield proportional outcomes?
Universities must urgently re-examine the relevance of their programs to Uganda’s economic needs. Stakeholders, including government ministries, employers, parents, and students, must demand a radical shift towards competency-based, practical, and industry-driven education. Only then will the return on investment — in both financial and human terms — be realized.
Uganda’s higher education institutions must break free from the cycle of “knowledge scamming” and take up their rightful role as incubators of skilled, employable, and innovative citizens. Until this is achieved, the frustration of sponsors, students, and taxpayers will only deepen.
