The Optics of Inclusion: Are Irish Universities Just Diversifying the Prospectus?
Irish universities are awash with bold promises. Inclusion. Equality. Access. Flick through any prospectus or scroll through their social media feeds and you’ll find a chorus of slogans celebrating diversity. From glossy photos of multicultural students on sunlit campuses to strategic partnerships with advocacy groups, the message is clear: Irish higher education is open to all. But once the hashtags fade and the photoshoots end, the reality can feel starkly different. Are these institutions genuinely committed to structural change, or is inclusion being used as little more than a marketing tool?
In recent years, diversity has become a central plank of university branding. Inclusion statements appear on websites and promotional material, DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) officers have been appointed, and scholarship programmes targeting marginalised groups are regularly announced. These steps can seem encouraging. Representation matters, and seeing oneself reflected in an institution can be powerful. But the question is whether these signals translate into support structures that address the lived experiences of underrepresented students once they arrive on campus.
One of the first problems is that diversity, as it is currently framed, often stops at visual representation. A 2022 study by the Irish Universities Association found that while enrolments of students from ethnic minority and lower socio-economic backgrounds have increased in the past decade, retention rates remain disproportionately low. Students from these groups often cite feelings of isolation, financial hardship, and a lack of cultural understanding from faculty and peers. In other words, getting through the gate is only the first hurdle.
Take, for example, the experience of students from the Traveller community. Despite being one of the most marginalised groups in Irish society, very few make it to third-level education. Those who do frequently report experiences of stereotyping and exclusion. According to research by the National Traveller Mental Health Network, students often feel the pressure to "code-switch" and mask aspects of their identity in order to be accepted. Universities may feature Traveller students in their marketing campaigns, but fail to provide the kind of cultural competency training or pastoral support that would make the environment truly inclusive.
Similarly, students with disabilities face significant challenges beyond access ramps and exam accommodations. While universities are legally obligated to provide certain supports, many students still report having to "fight" for their entitlements. Disability services are often under-resourced and reactive rather than proactive. Worse still, the burden of advocacy frequently falls on the students themselves, adding stress to an already demanding academic environment. At Trinity, this issue came to a head this past February when TCDSU President Jenny Maguire launched a campaign in response to repeated failures by lecturers to adhere to students’ LENS reports. The campaign aimed to raise awareness of the fact that while accommodations were being formally acknowledged, they were not consistently respected or implemented, leaving many disabled students feeling invisible and unsupported in the classroom. Inclusion cannot be a tick-box exercise; it must include anticipatory support and structural awareness.
LGBTQ+ students, too, can find the supposed inclusivity of campus life to be more symbolic than substantive. Many Irish universities proudly fly the rainbow flag during Pride Month, but queer students still encounter homophobic or transphobic behaviour in lecture halls, student accommodation, and out-of-lectures college spaces. The Union of Students in Ireland (USI) has highlighted the need for more consistent training across staff and greater integration of LGBTQ+ issues into the curriculum. Without this, inclusion remains performative.
The financial aspect cannot be ignored either. While universities offer access programmes like HEAR (Higher Education Access Route) and DARE (Disability Access Route to Education), these often don’t go far enough to address the financial strain many students face. A student from a disadvantaged background might enter university through an access scheme, but without ongoing financial support for housing, materials, and day-to-day living, their chances of thriving are slim. Means-tested grants like SUSI help, but they have strict cut-offs and often fall short of covering the full cost of student life.
These gaps point to a wider issue: a failure to move from optics to operations. Inclusion is too often viewed through the lens of marketing rather than mission. A university can highlight its diversity credentials in glossy prospectuses while continuing to underpay cleaning and catering staff, many of whom come from migrant backgrounds. It can champion gender equality while allowing sexist behaviour in student societies to go unchallenged. It can publicise a scholarship for asylum seekers while remaining silent on the Direct Provision system that affects its own students.
This dissonance between image and reality is not always intentional. Many universities are trying to do better, and there are pockets of real innovation. Trinity College Dublin’s Undergraduate Black Studies module, launched in 2021, represents a step toward curricular diversification that moves beyond tokenism. Maynooth University’s work on widening participation is often cited as a model for others to follow. But these examples are exceptions, not the norm, and progress remains patchy and slow.
Part of the problem is structural inertia. Universities are complex institutions steeped in tradition. Academic cultures can be resistant to change, especially when it comes to examining their own privilege. There is a tendency to treat inclusion as an ‘add-on’ rather than a fundamental redesign of how education is delivered and who it serves. Until decision-making structures reflect the diversity they seek to promote, meaningful change will be difficult.
Student activism has played a critical role in pushing this conversation forward. Groups like TCDSU, DCU Students’ Union, and USI have all campaigned for better mental health services, gender-neutral bathrooms, and anti-racism training. Yet, students are often unpaid volunteers battling bureaucracies that move at glacial speed. The emotional labour involved in fighting for one’s right to be heard and supported is significant. Universities must stop relying on student energy to fix institutional problems they themselves perpetuate.
To move beyond the optics of inclusion, Irish universities must be willing to ask harder questions. Who benefits from current policies? Whose voices are missing from the room? Where are the blind spots in our support systems? Real inclusion requires an ongoing commitment to equity, not just equality of access but equality of experience and outcome. It demands investment, consultation, and above all, a willingness to be uncomfortable.
Marketing departments may continue to do what they do best: present the most aspirational version of the university to the outside world. But for inclusion to mean anything, it must become more than a visual or rhetorical device. It must be embedded in hiring practices, curricula, student services, and leadership structures. The prospectus might draw students in, but it’s the campus culture that determines whether they stay, succeed, and feel like they belong.
Until then, we’re not really building inclusive institutions. We’re just diversifying the brochure.
