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By Oluibukun Gbenga Ajayi
When a government changes the rules that decide who gains entry to higher learning, the move deserves careful public scrutiny. The recently announced decision by the Federal Government to stop requiring credit in Mathematics for students seeking admission into arts and humanities courses has been framed as an effort to widen access. While I applaud the intent behind this reform, I am uneasy about some of its likely effects, and I believe the policy should be implemented only alongside measures that protect academic standards and long-term national interests.
Mathematics is more than a collection of symbols and formulas. At its core, it is a method of thinking that trains the mind to reason, structure an argument, assess evidence, and make clear distinctions between what follows logically and what does not. Those habits of thought matter well beyond classrooms where numbers and graphs are the main objects of study. They influence and define how a graduate analyses data, weighs competing claims, prepares budgets, interprets statistics in policy documents, or supervises projects that involve measurable outcomes. In a developing nation such as ours, where scarce resources must be managed with care, and decisions increasingly depend on evidence, those capacities are no small matter. This is not to suggest that every student whose interests lie in history, literature, languages, or the visual arts must pursue advanced calculus. A course centred on creative writing does not require the same mathematical toolkit or rigour as a degree in engineering.
Around the world, institutions already accept that entry requirements should match programme needs. In the United Kingdom, the United States, Australia, and several African countries, universities list subject requirements per course. Arts programmes commonly do not insist on mathematics as a prerequisite. So, this development indeed follows a pattern that exists elsewhere, and it seems sensible at one level to align entrance rules to the academic content of programmes, but context indeed matters. Educational reforms that work in one setting do not necessarily translate without friction to another.
Nigeria’s public secondary education system shows persistent weaknesses in curriculum delivery, teacher capacity, and assessment quality. A large number of pupils complete their schooling with gaps in basic literacy and numeracy. Examination success sometimes reflects coaching and short-term exam strategies rather than lasting and sustainable mastery. If the state removes mathematics as an entry gate without first ensuring that all school leavers possess functional numeracy, the likely outcome is not empowerment, but a dilution of the general cognitive skills expected of graduates.
There are clear merits to the policy. Removing an irrelevant barrier will open doors for many young people whose talents lie in non-numerical fields. It will reduce cases where applicants who perform excellently in required subjects lose opportunities because of a single weak grade in mathematics. That change can reduce exclusion and provide a fairer match between a student’s strengths and their chosen field. It can also reduce the pressure that compels some learners to chase grades in subjects they neither understand nor intend to use, a practice that contributes to exam malpractice and wasted time.
There are disadvantages too. First, the removal could be interpreted as a message that numeracy is not important for citizens outside scientific careers. That perception would be problematic. Public servants, journalists, teachers, artists and social workers all benefit from being able to read data, check figures, and make sensible calculations when needed. Second, the policy might have perverse effects on curriculum planning and teaching priorities in secondary schools. If schools anticipate that mathematics will no longer determine university access for a large cohort, some may reallocate resources away from numeracy teaching, thus widening existing gaps. Third, employers who expect new graduates to perform basic quantitative tasks could find themselves with a pool of entrants whose numerical ability is weak. This mismatch could raise training costs for employers and slow the productivity gains that higher education is supposed to deliver.
What, then, should one make of the stated rationale that the reform is intended to expand access? The goal of widening participation is worthy. Social justice demands that doors to higher learning do not stay closed to talented individuals who happen to struggle with a particular subject. A system that forces every candidate through the same narrow gate is at risk of losing many who could contribute richly to national life. I do not oppose the objective. Where I differ is where widening access becomes an end in itself, detached from any concern for the quality and relevance of what higher education produces.
Access should not translate into the removal of essential competencies. Instead, it should be paired with a concerted effort to ensure that candidates who gain admission possess the skills required for success in their programmes and in the workplace. For arts and humanities students, this means a solid command of language, critical thinking, and basic numeracy. The point is not to choke the ladder to opportunity, it is to ensure that opportunity leads somewhere useful.
There are practical alternatives that would achieve the same social goals without sacrificing standards. Admission criteria can remain course-specific while introducing compensatory measures. A student who lacks a credit in mathematics could be admitted into an arts programme on condition that they complete a compulsory remedial numeracy module during the first year. Universities and colleges could expand diagnostic testing that identifies gaps and then provide bridging courses that bring students up to expected levels. Another approach is to accept applications on the strength of performance in other relevant subjects, while simultaneously investing in teacher training for mathematics and improving curriculum coherence in secondary schools.
Institutional benchmarking is also useful here. In countries where subject-specific entry rules operate smoothly, they are supported by robust secondary systems, active bridging programmes at universities, and clear communication between schools and higher education. Where these supports are weak, a policy change at the point of entry can produce unintended consequences. We should learn from both kinds of cases.
No discussion of this issue can ignore the state of assessment in our schools. Public examinations and school leaving certificates serve two roles, one of which is gate-keeping for higher education. If examinations are not reliably measuring competence, then admission rules built on the results of those exams will be flawed. Strengthening assessment integrity, moving towards more practical and continuous assessment where appropriate, and investing in teacher professional development are essential complements to any change in entry requirements. Without such reforms, a single policy shift will only be a cosmetic fix.
If the government intends this change to be permanent, it must publish clear guidelines that state which programmes require mathematics, and which do not. It should mandate remedial numeracy where appropriate, resource teacher training and curriculum upgrades, and create monitoring mechanisms that evaluate outcomes. Universities should be required to report on the numerical competence of their graduates and on employer satisfaction. That kind of accountability will show whether the policy opens real opportunities or merely moves a bottleneck from one part of the system to another.
Good intentions are necessary, but they are not enough. If we truly wish to widen access to higher education, we must do it in a way that equips graduates to serve a modern economy, participate in informed public debate, and manage public and private resources responsibly.
•Oluibukun Gbenga Ajayi is an associate professor of geoinformation technology at the Department of Land and Spatial Sciences, Namibia University of Science and Technology. He writes from Windhoek and can be reached via [email protected]. The views expressed in this article are his own and not those of NUST.
