The attack on the Twin Towers on 11 September 2001 had unexpected consequences for Maastricht University. For the Saudi government, it meant their programmes to send students to the West were disrupted – they were no longer welcome in the US and the UK. The Netherlands emerged as an alternative, especially Groningen and Maastricht. Over a period of five years, 560 Saudi students were to be trained in medicine there. Why these remote corners of the country? The dean in Groningen had an explanation ready: “The Saudis don’t exactly see the west of the Netherlands as the pinnacle of civilisation, shall we say.”
One person who was enthusiastic about the idea was Jo Ritzen, then president of Maastricht University. He saw great opportunities to raise UM’s international profile and strengthen its position in the Arab world. The medical faculty itself – which, compared to other UM faculties, had been lagging behind in terms of internationalisation – also seemed positive.
Concerns
But all did not go smoothly. Even the Dutch House of Representatives got involved, demanding to know how a study programme with an enrolment quota could make room for so many extra students. In a sarcastic letter to the newspaper Trouw, a reader asked if rejected applicants could try their luck by simply becoming Saudi citizens.
The answer was simple. The enrolment quota was based on the Dutch job market, so it didn’t apply to these students, who would return home after graduation. Moreover, the Saudi government was prepared to pay handsomely for their education: roughly €20,000 per student to cover costs, plus an additional €12,000 – €32,000 in total.
Faculty staff also had concerns. Forty extra students per year (a number that was never actually reached) – weren’t they already busy enough? And what about language skills, prior education, cultural differences?
Misunderstandings
From the start in 2007, misunderstandings abounded. The Saudi government – as represented by its cultural attaché, who oversaw everything first from Bonn and later from Berlin – wanted the students to get a full Western cultural immersion, in other words, to integrate socially and to study in Dutch. The students themselves, once in Maastricht, proved unaware of this. Many objected: what use would it be to them later in life? The language of instruction therefore became English, but their English skills often left much to be desired. So the faculty asked the cultural attaché to please select students more carefully. In turn, the cultural attaché angrily confronted the faculty about issues with timetables and exams; students brought their grievances to him personally, and they had a lot of them.
Then there were visa problems, housing issues, female students arriving with their brothers as chaperones, and so on. Clinical rotations with patient contact posed further challenges: as the programme was taught in English, clinical rotations would have to take place in English-speaking countries such as Ireland or Australia, which proved difficult – and ultimately impossible – to arrange. Meanwhile, the Saudi government insisted on clinical rotations in the Netherlands, which the faculty opposed.
A cultural wrinkle
Finally, there was a bit of a cultural wrinkle. A coordinating staff member told Observant, “Their attitude is an issue. They often skip tutorials, skills labs, even exams. They don’t properly participate in groups or stick to appointments. As for our part, we didn’t respond firmly enough – we should’ve called them out.”
That never happened. The constant issues and extra workload outweighed the financial benefits. In 2015, the plug was finally pulled. Only a small handful of Saudi students completed their degrees. The one positive outcome was the International Track in Medicine that grew out the experiment – but that programme recently fell victim to budget cuts.