Africka Stephens and Damario Patterson | Knowledge or chains?

The high cost of education in Jamaica is no secret. Year after year, bright, ambitious young Jamaicans are forced to put their dreams on hold, settle for less, or look overseas, because higher education at home is financially out of reach.

A striking reminder came during the Ukraine crisis in 2022, when 20 Jamaican students had to be evacuated. Asked why they had chosen to study there; the answer was simple: it was cheaper — far cheaper — than pursuing degrees in Jamaica. This was not an isolated story but a glimpse into a much larger systemic problem.

For decades, the Students’ Loan Bureau (SLB) has helped Jamaicans bridge the gap between aspiration and affordability. Established under Section 4 of the Students’ Loan Fund Act, the SLB provides loans to roughly 10,000 Jamaicans annually, according to the JIS. Executive Director Nickeisha Walsh notes that students enrolled in STEM programmes automatically benefit from reduced loan rates, with extra discounts for academic excellence and for applicants whose parents work in the public sector.

In principle, this ensures talent is not wasted because of financial barriers. In practice, however, many graduates question whether the “opportunity” has become a financial trap.

WEIGHT OF REPAYMENT

While students are grateful for access to higher education, repayment has become an albatross for young professionals, given the realities of Jamaica’s labour market. Former Prime Minister Bruce Golding, in a 2017 Gleaner column, described the “painful plight” of graduates, citing a tracer survey for the 2013 cohort which found median income slightly over J$1 million, with more than 60 per cent earning less than J$900,000 annually.

In Kingston where most jobs are concentrated, this is the typical starting figure. Yet, rent for a modest one-bedroom apartment ranges from J$120,000 to J$180,000. Add utilities, transportation, and groceries, and little remains to service an SLB loan, especially with interest rates that feel more commercial than developmental. Worries in the dance!

This mismatch creates a vicious cycle. Instead of building wealth or investing in a home or business, graduates pay interest for decades. Defaults only inflate the debt, fostering hopelessness. What was meant to be a stepping stone often becomes a lifelong burden.

INTEREST RATES VS. INCOME

A critical issue is the SLB’s interest rate structure. While the bureau has introduced income-based options and lowered security requirements, rates remain high, given Jamaica’s fragile economy. Loans can accrue interest while students are unemployed, even after the 14-month grace period, and repayment schedules often ignore the limited earning power of recent graduates.

This stands in sharp contrast to models abroad, where repayment is income-contingent: graduates pay in proportion to what they earn, not through rigid fixed amounts. In Jamaica, however, the system feels punitive, failing to reflect the very economic conditions it claims to address.

EDUCATION ASA PUBLIC GOOD

At its core, the issue is whether Jamaica treats education as a public good or a private luxury. National development frameworks like Vision 2030 emphasise the importance of an educated workforce. Higher education drives innovation, reduces inequality, and builds a modern economy. Yet, the financing system contradicts these goals.

Instead of lifting young people, it shifts the burden onto individuals, with little regard for job market realities. We tell youth that education is the pathway out of poverty, only to anchor them in debt before their careers even begin.

BRAIN DRAIN CONNECTION

This financial squeeze also fuels migration. Many graduates, unable to see a viable path at home, move abroad for better-paying jobs and lighter repayment burdens. Ironically, the SLB, created to build Jamaica’s human capital, often ends up financing the development of other countries’ workforces.

Wages in Jamaica are low in absolute terms compared to similar professions in the United States and the United Kingdom, and these income differentials contribute strongly to migration among skilled workers (World Bank, 2021). The result is a hollowing out of Jamaica’s talent pool as the brain drain intensifies.

POSSIBLE SOLUTIONS

The problem is not insurmountable. Policy reforms could transform student financing into an empowerment tool:

1. Income-contingent repayment: Peg repayment to graduate income so no one pays more than they can afford.

2. Lower interest rates: Treat education loans as a national development investment, not a profit-making venture.

3. Grace periods and incentives: Offer longer grace periods and partial forgiveness for graduates who work in Jamaica, especially in sectors like education, healthcare, and public service.

4. Expanded scholarships: Increase grants and scholarships through stronger private-sector partnerships and greater budgetary allocations, not only for STEM courses.

Jamaican youth should not have to choose between their dreams and debt. Education must not be a ticket to financial bondage. If Jamaica is serious about building a knowledge economy and retaining its brightest minds, it must urgently re-examine how higher education is financed.

The 20 students who were studying in Ukraine should not be dismissed as a footnote; their story is a warning signal. No Jamaican should have to risk safety abroad simply because local education is unaffordable.

We cannot keep telling young people to aim high while chaining them to debt. A reimagined financing system is not only about fairness, it is about Jamaica’s future.

Africka Stephens is the executive founder and Damario Patterson policy and advocacy officer of Fi We Children Foundation, a youth-led NGO advancing policy reform and social justice for Jamaican children and youth. Send feedback to info@fiwechildren.org or via X @fwcfja.