There is something about a long Easter weekend that invites a different kind of thinking—one that the busy working week hardly allows. It seemed a good moment, then, to sit with a question that has been quietly bothering me for some time.
University governance is, as one commentator recently observed, experiencing its moment in an uncomfortable spotlight. The Committee of University Chairs is updating its governance code. The Office for Students has signalled more direct engagement with board chairs. And the aftermath of several high-profile institutional difficulties has left many governors visibly anxious about what exactly they have signed up for. From what I observe in my consulting work, the mood across boardrooms is one of heightened alertness—a determination to do things properly, to document decisions carefully, and to leave no process unobserved.
I completely understand that instinct. After more than twenty years in senior roles within higher education, I have sat through enough difficult meetings to appreciate why governors, when they feel exposed, tend to rely on process and procedure. It seems responsible. It literally feels like caution.
However, what I find myself wondering is whether it’s always the right kind of caution.
There’s a distinction worth making, one that recent sector commentary has begun to articulate carefully. Governance cultures primarily focused on compliance often produce a particular type of board behaviour. Papers are scrutinised for procedural correctness. Decisions are documented with a focus on defensibility. Risk registers are kept diligently. None of this is inherently wrong, but it can overshadow something that’s harder to systematise and even more difficult to measure: the quality of genuine inquiry.
A board preoccupied with its own liability is, in my experience, less likely to ask the awkward question, to sit with uncomfortable answers, or to challenge an executive narrative that has been carefully shaped before it reaches the room. The compliance-focused and curiosity-driven cultures are not merely different emphases—they can, under enough pressure, counteract each other.
This isn’t an observation about poor governance or ill-intentioned governors; it’s about how institutions respond to threat. When external pressures intensify, scrutiny increases, and blame is more freely assigned, the rational response is to build defences. The problem is that these defences against external accountability can also inadvertently become barriers to internal challenge.
Over the years, I have observed this dynamic from various angles, as someone preparing papers for boards, as a participant in strategic discussions at the highest levels and now as someone working across institutions, perhaps seeing patterns less obvious from within. What often gets lost when compliance overshadows curiosity isn’t the formal governance process, which often becomes more elaborate; it’s the informal essence of honest exchange, the willingness to voice what’s being said in the corridors, the ability to hold a difficult strategic question open rather than prematurely resolving it into a recommendation.
Recent sector thinking suggests that what boards most need now isn’t tighter procedures but a different kind of culture; a culture aimed at genuine inquiry, capable of tolerating the discomfort this inquiry often brings. This seems both correct and, in today’s climate, quite challenging to implement. Boards are being asked to loosen their culture precisely when external signals urge tightness. This tension deserves greater attention.
What would a more curious board culture actually require? I’m hesitant to prescribe solutions, given that conditions vary vastly between institutions. However, some questions are worth pondering: Is the information reaching the governing body genuinely independent of the executive, or has it been significantly shaped by those whose decisions are under scrutiny? Are dissenting views structurally allowed within the board’s processes, or does the desire for consensus quietly suppress them? And when a board questions its institution’s leadership, does it possess the knowledge and confidence to assess the answers adequately?
These questions aren’t new. Governors and governance scholars have asked similar ones for years. What feels different now is the context. Financial pressures are serious and, in some cases, urgent; regulatory oversight is more intense than in recent times; and the reputational risks of governance failure are now clearly visible, sharpening focus. In this environment, the temptation to prioritise defensive procedures over genuine inquiry is understandable.
Whether this approach benefits institutions in the long run remains a more open question. The boards most likely to steer their institutions successfully through the current challenges might not be those most meticulous in documenting compliance. It might be those who can ask questions for which nobody has yet prepared a paper.
What does your board’s culture truly reward? And how would you know?
