Learning Without Expiry: How Germany's Free Education Policy Fuels Lifelong Learning for the Elderly

Thanks to a scholarship from the Indonesia Endowment Fund for Education (LPDP), I encountered a unique sight in Germany: grandparents studying at university. Throughout my life, this has been unusual. In Indonesia, I have never seen elderly people sitting in rows of student benches. They might sit in on a lecturer’s talk, but in Germany, they come to campus because they are formally enrolled as undergraduate (S-1) students.

My dissertation supervisor (doktorvater) often asked me to teach in his classes, focusing on Islamic studies, particularly about Indonesia. I never refused, seeing it as an important arena for self-improvement and adhering to the principle of a santri (Islamic boarding school student) never to reject a teacher’s request. I always prepared teaching materials seriously, expecting ‘surprises’ during lectures given the renowned logical reasoning and critical thinking of European students. My supervisor, aware of my preparations, reassured me, “Relax, these are first-year students. They don’t know anything yet.”

Sure enough, various culture shocks occurred. The one that made me think the hardest was the presence of elderly people in the classroom. After a lecture, I asked my professor, “Who are they? Lecturers or perhaps professors interested in today’s material?” He replied, “They are also regular students.” As a santri, I am accustomed to witnessing such social phenomena; in the village, elderly men and women are always enthusiastic about attending religious study groups (pengajian and majelis taklim). That was normal. What was unusual was their seriousness in class. They listened to my lecture attentively, even though they had to hear a talk from someone possibly the age of their grandchild. They always took notes, engaged in discussions, and posed critical statements, often forcing me to think hard to respond to their academic passion.

In the final meeting, about seven elderly people attended. I had the chance to chat personally with one grandmother. Judging by her wrinkled skin, I estimated her age to be no less than 70. On the lecture table, next to a pile of books and a laptop, there was also a helmet, indicating she came to campus by bicycle. The lecture material I taught that day was ‘Understanding Sufism in Indonesia’. As I was tidying up, she approached me from behind and said, “Thank you, your lecture was very interesting and important. I am currently interested in this issue. I have been to Oman several times to see how Muslims there behave.”

Curious, I asked, “How could you travel to Arabia? It’s so hot there.” This was a bridge to understand her personal motivation. Her answer was astonishing: “I am actually a pensioner. I studied mathematics all my life according to the demands of my job. But after retiring, I wanted to fill my time by studying Arabic.” She then invited me to chat in simple Arabic. I asked once more, “You are studying here?” She said, “Yes, I am doing a bachelor’s degree. But I don’t expect a diploma at all. I’m just filling my retirement time.” I thought to myself, “Wow, not expecting a diploma but researching all the way to Arabia!”

This encounter with the retired mathematician left several big questions in my head: Why does their intellectual passion burn so brightly in their twilight years? What have the university and the German government done so that elderly people flock to campus? Sociologically, German society has long lived in a culture of lebenslanges lernen, or lifelong learning. For them, retirement is not automatically interpreted as a time to relax in a nursing home or simply become a grandchild’s babysitter. Retirement is a gateway to freedom, a chance to pursue hobbies and study things postponed due to career and family demands in their youth. They are fully aware that intellectual stimulation is the best way to maintain cognitive function, prevent dementia, and keep themselves socially connected.

However, this noble sociological intention would never materialise without the support of state policy infrastructure. This is the answer to why the grandmother could casually cycle to campus. Juridically, politically, and philosophically, education in Germany is placed purely as a fundamental right of citizens. Everyone has easy access in the truest sense, not as a business commodity. The most crucial policy is the absence of crippling tuition fees. At public universities, both regular teenage students and seventy-year-old pensioners enjoy access to education free of charge. They are only required to pay a semesterbeitrag, a semester contribution that is very affordable, usually only around 300-350 euros per semester for all levels. This is very cheap considering the lowest worker’s salary is around 1,000–1,500 euros. Importantly, this fee is not to enrich the university but for student administration costs and already includes the Semesterticket, a free public transport ticket valid throughout Germany.