University College London (UCL) has reached a confidential settlement with thousands of students and graduates who brought legal action over the disruption to their education during the Covid-19 pandemic and periods of industrial action. The announcement, made on February 13, 2026, marks a pivotal moment in the ongoing debate over what UK university students are owed when their learning experience is fundamentally altered. But while the agreement brings closure for those involved, it leaves many pressing questions about student rights and university obligations unanswered.
The case at UCL was brought by around 6,000 current and former students, according to The Tab and Wonkhe, who argued that they had paid for an in-person educational experience but, due to pandemic restrictions and staff strikes, received online teaching and limited access to campus facilities from March 2020 onwards. This shift, students claimed, constituted a breach of contract, especially as tuition fees remained unchanged—£9,250 per year for UK undergraduates, and substantially higher for postgraduates and international students.
These students were part of a much larger movement: more than 170,000 people are now pursuing legal action against 36 UK universities through the Student Group Claim, a coordinated effort represented by the law firms Harcus Parker and Asserson. The group’s argument is simple but potent: online degree courses are typically 25-50% cheaper than their in-person counterparts, and students should be compensated for the difference when universities fail to deliver the promised experience.
UCL, which became the test case for this wider campaign, did not admit liability in the settlement. In a statement, UCL President & Provost Michael Spence acknowledged the challenges faced during the pandemic, saying, “We recognise that the Covid years were incredibly difficult for students. Covid-19 created disruption across society, and universities were no exception. Throughout this period our priority was clear: to support students, protect their wellbeing, and maintain a high quality academic experience in unprecedented circumstances.” He added, “Staff acted quickly, strictly following government guidance, and worked diligently to deliver teaching and student support in unprecedented circumstances.” According to UCL, many students did secure compensation through internal complaints procedures and the Office of the Independent Adjudicator, though the claimants’ lawyers argued these routes were inadequate for claims of this scale and complexity.
The legal firms behind the Student Group Claim operate on a no-win-no-fee basis, meaning students pay nothing upfront and the lawyers take a percentage—35%—of any damages recovered. This model has incentivized the pursuit of large-scale litigation, and following the UCL settlement, pre-action letters have already been sent to 36 other universities, including such heavyweights as the University of Bath, University of Birmingham, University of Bristol, Cardiff University, Imperial College London, King’s College London, the University of Leeds, the London School of Economics, the University of Manchester, the University of Southampton, the University of Warwick, and the University of York, among others.
The financial stakes are significant. While UCL has not disclosed the details of the settlement, the Student Group Claim has previously estimated that UK-resident undergraduates could be entitled to compensation of around £5,000 each, with higher sums expected for graduate and international students, who pay steeper fees. Importantly, this compensation is not a refund of tuition fees—it’s for breach of contract, meaning students can claim even if someone else paid their fees.
What makes this legal saga particularly intriguing is the unresolved nature of the core contractual questions. As Wonkhe reports, the trial that was scheduled for March 2026 would have been the first major judicial test of whether universities’ standard terms and conditions can shield them from liability when in-person teaching and access to facilities are curtailed. UCL’s contracts, like those of many universities, include a tangle of clauses—the Contract Variation Clause, Programme Alteration Clause, Force Majeure Clause, and Cooperation Clause—that allow for changes to teaching delivery, sometimes without compensation. The students’ lawyers argued that clauses permitting universities to fundamentally alter what was being delivered without adjusting the price should be struck down under consumer protection law, specifically the Consumer Rights Act 2015 and earlier regulations.
But UCL’s position was that it responded responsibly, followed government guidance, and that its contracts allowed for the flexibility needed to manage such unprecedented events. The university also pointed out that it provided students with formal avenues to seek redress, and that some students received compensation through these established processes.
The case also spotlighted the broader regulatory landscape. The Competition and Markets Authority (CMA) and the Office for Students (OfS) have both issued guidance warning universities against including overly broad or unfair clauses in student contracts, especially those that limit liability or allow for sweeping changes without adequate justification. Yet, as Wonkhe notes, guidance is not law, and without a court ruling or regulatory enforcement, universities have continued to draft contracts that prioritize operational flexibility.
One particularly contentious issue was the inclusion of strikes by university staff in force majeure clauses—provisions that excuse performance when events outside a party’s control make it impossible to fulfill contractual obligations. Regulatory bodies have advised that industrial action by a university’s own employees should not count as force majeure, but many universities, including UCL, have continued to include such language in their contracts.
Another sticking point is the so-called “exit right.” While UCL’s contracts allowed students to terminate their agreement in response to material changes, the reality is that students often face significant barriers to switching institutions, including financial commitments, visa constraints, and limited transfer pathways. The CMA has flagged that variation clauses become unfair when exit rights are “theoretical rather than practical.”
The settlement brings some immediate relief for those who joined the claim, but for the wider sector, it leaves the most important questions unresolved. Will universities be able to rely on broad contractual clauses to protect themselves in future crises? Are students entitled to compensation when the experience they receive falls short of what was promised? For now, the answers remain elusive.
The clock is ticking for other students who wish to pursue claims, especially as the window for legal action relating to the 2020–21 academic year will begin to close from September 2026 under the Limitation Act. Legal experts expect more filings before the summer, as the Student Group Claim presses forward with cases against other universities.
For UK higher education, the UCL settlement is both a milestone and a missed opportunity. It brings some closure to a group of students and graduates, but leaves the sector—and future students—without the legal clarity that a court judgment might have provided. In the absence of definitive answers, the debate over what university students are truly owed continues, echoing through campuses and courtrooms across the country.