Internationalisation without interculturalism? The hidden costs we are not counting

This blog was kindly authored by Rhiannon Eley, Principal Lecturer in the School of Nursing and Midwifery at the University of Worcester.

A recent discussion about the costs and benefits of international students left me with an uncomfortable question. The conversation was framed largely around economics. A HEPI, Kaplan and London Economics report estimates that international students entering UK higher education in 2024/25 will generate a net economic benefit of £40.4 billion, with every 10 international students contributing around £1 million to the UK economy. This is important. Universities are under immense financial pressure, and international students make a significant contribution to the sector’s sustainability. But economic accounts tell only part of the story.

As I listened, something seemed to be missing. When we discuss internationalisation, we are good at asking what international students contribute. We are less comfortable asking what they are asked to carry in return.

Economic analysis alone does not easily capture what happens when students encounter racism, are repeatedly questioned because of their accent or must constantly adapt to unfamiliar cultural expectations while those around them may make little effort to adapt in return. These questions rarely appear in discussions about the benefits and costs of internationalisation, yet they matter profoundly.

The costs we do not count

When I raised concerns about racism experienced by international students during the discussion, one response was that many have positive experiences. That is true, but it does not answer the question. Positive and negative experiences can coexist; the existence of one does not invalidate the other.

Research from Bournemouth University examining healthcare students’ placement experiences found that while most respondents reported positive experiences, 21% reported experiencing discrimination and 13% reported witnessing discrimination or harassment. The authors note that these figures may underrepresent the scale of the problem because of reporting issues and power dynamics.

The real question, then, is not whether some students thrive, but how many experiences of racism we are prepared to accept before we take them seriously.

International students should not be the curriculum

The second response I received was more interesting. It was suggested that exposure to different cultures helps people learn. This is true: universities should create opportunities for students to encounter different perspectives, cultures and ways of being. But there is a danger hidden within this argument. It can imply that international students exist partly to educate everyone else: that their value lies not only in paying fees or gaining qualifications, but also in providing opportunities for intercultural learning.

The problem is that this logic risks normalising harm. The educational value of intercultural contact cannot depend on some students experiencing racism so that others learn not to be racist. Undergraduate international students are often young adults and should not bear the burden of educating others through exclusion, prejudice or discrimination. Universities would never intentionally design a curriculum on those terms. Why, then, should we accept it as a feature of internationalisation?

What the evidence tells us

There is growing evidence that these are not isolated concerns. A qualitative study of student nurses in London NHS placements found that students from ethnic minority backgrounds reported racism, cultural and religious microaggressions, inequitable treatment and barriers to progression. Similarly, research published in Nurse Education Today found that student nurses reported direct racism from both patients and staff, alongside discrimination linked to race and student status. These findings matter not because they undermine the case for internationalisation, but because they expose a contradiction within it.

Who is expected to adapt?

Perhaps the problem is that higher education has focused on internationalisation while paying less attention to interculturalism. We spend considerable time preparing international students for Britain: providing orientation, explaining academic expectations, supporting English language development and teaching students how to navigate our institutions. What we do less often is prepare our institutions, placement providers and local communities for international students. The burden of adaptation remains remarkably one-sided.

International students are expected to learn how we do things, while domestic students are less often asked to reflect on their own assumptions. Placement cultures are not always challenged, and communities are not always prepared. Some adaptation by international students is inevitable and valuable. But if internationalisation is to be more than recruitment, adaptation cannot be one-sided. Universities need to ask not only how students can adjust to existing systems, but how those systems might change in response to the students they recruit. This is particularly urgent in nursing, where students move between classrooms, clinical placements and communities.

Towards responsible internationalisation

A more responsible model of internationalisation would move beyond recruitment and retention and think more clearly about responsibility. It would measure belonging, discrimination and wellbeing alongside economic impact, because what we measure signals what we value. It would treat racism as institutional and cultural, not simply individual, and recognise that intercultural curiosity and humility are not needed only by international students: domestic students, staff, placement providers and communities all have a role to play.

It also means moving beyond narrow notions of inclusion. Emerging research suggests that mattering and trust may be just as important as belonging for minoritised students, prompting universities to ask not only whether students are present, but whether they are recognised, valued and able to participate fully.

The economic case for international students is strong. But if economic impact becomes the dominant lens through which we understand internationalisation, we risk overlooking the experiences of the people who make that success possible. Economic data tell us what international students contribute. Stories tell us what they experience. If we are serious about creating truly international universities, we need both.

Perhaps the real challenge is this: international students are routinely prepared for Britain. It may be time for Britain to prepare itself for international students too.