An Architecture of Exclusion: How Higher Education Restructuring Is Deepening Inequality in Georgia – Rusudan Chanturia

The proposed changes are not only about how higher education is organized but about who it is ultimately for.

Rusudan Chanturia, Education Specialist, PhD

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Rusudan Chanturia

The restructuring of higher education proposed by the Georgian Dream has been presented as a modernization agenda — cost-savings, alignment, optimization. But, beneath this language, something more fundamental is changing: access is being quietly redefined.

This proposed restructuring in Georgia is not only about how higher education is organized but about who it is ultimately for.

From a formal human rights perspective, higher education systems are expected to expand inclusion, equity, and participation. They are not only instruments of economic development, but pillars of democratic societies. This is in line with the social dimension of the Bologna Process, too, and anyway connects with how most decent people would like their society to work.

Yet the proposed restructuring points in a different direction. As systems begin to narrow, through institutional concentration, reduced intake, or more limited access pathways, participation does not simply decrease. It becomes selective. And when access becomes selective, exclusion is rarely random. It follows existing lines of disadvantage.

This shift raises concerns in light of SDG 4 and the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, both of which are grounded in the principle of equal access to education.

So, the question is no longer just about efficiency. It is about whether we are witnessing a shift from higher education as a public good toward higher education accessible only to some.

When Policy Design Excludes: The Case of Students with Disabilities

This shift becomes particularly visible when we look at how these changes affect students with disabilities.

At first glance, the restructuring appears neutral. The “one city – one faculty” model is presented as a technical improvement. But policies that look neutral on paper do not always produce equal outcomes.

The model assumes that students can relocate freely. In reality, this is often not the case. Outside major cities, infrastructure remains largely inaccessible. For many students with disabilities, relocation is not a simple logistical decision as it can require:

• accessible housing

• inclusive transport

• continuity of medical and rehabilitation services

• assistive technologies

• and stable support networks

Without these, access to education is not truly available. When policies are built on assumptions that do not reflect people’s lived experiences and actual constraints, they produce structural exclusion.

In such cases, exclusion is not explicit. No one is being formally denied access, but the way the system is designed makes it inevitable for some. When access depends on conditions that not everyone can meet, exclusion stops being accidental. It becomes part of how the system works.

Shrinking Pathways: Ethnic Minority Students at Risk

We see the same pattern when we look at how changes affect ethnic minority students.

For more than a decade, the 1+4 system has been one of the main ways to support ethnic minority students in overcoming language barriers and entering higher education. It has been one of the few mechanisms that actually helped reduce inequality. However, under the current restructuring, this pathway is expected to shrink significantly.

Today, approximately 85% of minority students study in four Tbilisi-based universities. Projections suggest that participation could drop sharply, over 90% in 2026 already.

Why Intersectionality Matters?

To fully understand what’s really happening, we can’t look at disadvantage one piece at a time.

Inequality does not operate in isolation. It is shaped by the intersection of multiple factors, such as ethnicity, socio-economic status, gender, geography, and religion. Intersectionality carries very real meaning in this context.

For example, an ethnic minority girl from a rural, low-income family is not just dealing with one barrier, she is dealing with several at once:

• limited Georgian language proficiency

• unequal access to quality schooling

• financial constraints

• geographic isolation

• her family or community may limit how far she can go or what she can do

When these factors intersect, they create layered and reinforced disadvantages. This is what structural inequality looks like. It is not abstract. It shows up in real lives like Aisun’s.

A Story Behind the Numbers

Aisun is a 19-year-old ethnic Azerbaijani student from a rural village. She studied in a public school, speaks Azerbaijani as her first language, and entered university through the Georgian-language preparatory programme.

Her daily life shows discipline and determination:

• managing household responsibilities

• supporting her family

• commuting long distances

• studying late into the night

For girls like her, education is not just a degree but a pathway to independence, dignity, and opportunity. But under the current reform, the Bachelor’s programme she planned to pursue may no longer be available. Her journey does not end because of lack of effort or ability. It is interrupted by a system that has quietly changed the conditions of access.

So, what is ultimately at stake?

This restructuring is often claimed to promote labour market alignment and system efficiency. However, higher education is not only about producing skills.

It is also about:

• rights

• agency

• social mobility

• and participation in public life

When access becomes selective by design, inequality is no longer incidental. It becomes structural. From what we see now, this structural exclusion is one of the likely results of the plans that have been put forward.