Behind closed doors, I’ve heard presidents and vice presidents describe their boards in terms that are hard to forget:

“Severely inexperienced.”

“Unprepared for complexity.”

“More dangerous than helpful.”

Although the examples in this post are drawn from higher education, the underlying issues I highlight resonate far beyond universities. The concerns and insights apply just as urgently to K–12 school boards, nonprofit boards, corporate boards, and other governing bodies. Across sectors, the consequences of distrust between executive leaders and their boards often look the same: strategic omission, organizational silos, polished spin, and organizational drift.

I’ve witnessed leaders—disillusioned by what they perceive as ill-informed or overreaching boards—begin to curate the truth. They deliver carefully scripted presentations. They withhold uncomfortable data. They craft narratives not to enlighten, but to manage perception. What begins as a defensive tactic often hardens into a culture of board management, where honesty is replaced with performance and governance becomes more symbolic than substantive. Over time, this erodes innovation, weakens accountability, and leads to long-term stagnation. It reveals a deeper, structural fracture in the culture of governance—one that requires urgent attention in every boardroom.

I’ve had the privilege of serving on several national, mission-driven boards, including the American Association of Hispanics in Higher Education (AAHHE), where I’ve served for four years; the NEA Foundation, where I served for seven years; the Schott Foundation for Public Education, where I’ve served for five years; and the Network for Public Education, where I’ve been a founding board member for twelve years. Each of these experiences has deepened my appreciation for what courageous, equity-focused, and transparent governance can—and should—look like.

The Leadership Side of the Breakdown

I want to begin by honoring and respecting those who are willing to serve on boards. Board service is often unpaid, time-intensive, and driven by a desire to contribute to something greater than oneself. It’s important and commendable work.

It’s important to recognize that many university boards include individuals who bring valuable experience from sectors like business, law, philanthropy, and public service. Their perspectives enrich strategic discussions and contribute meaningfully to institutional advancement. At the same time, relatively few board members arrive with deep backgrounds in higher education itself—particularly in areas like shared governance, academic freedom, or the complex ecosystems of large, diverse universities. Without that context, even well-intentioned decisions can inadvertently create tension or disconnect between boards and academic communities.

As a result, I’ve seen academic leaders not fully trust their boards. And that’s not just unfortunate—I think it’s problematic. When presidents and vice presidents see their boards as ill-informed or politically motivated, they start withholding information, working around governance structures rather than with them. They try to manage their boards. What begins as skepticism becomes avoidance. And that breakdown in trust can compromise the very foundation of institutional leadership.

The consequences of that gap were starkly visible at the University of Florida. When faculty members sought to testify in a legal case challenging the state’s voting laws, the university’s leadership blocked them—quietly and unilaterally. Notably, the board wasn’t briefed until after the public fallout had already begun. The underlying message was unmistakable: We don’t trust you to help us navigate this—so we didn’t include you.

The Vicious Cycle of Mistrust

Once this breakdown begins, it feeds itself. Boards start micromanaging, thinking leaders are hiding information (which they might be). Leaders start shielding the board from controversy, thinking the board will overreact (which it might). Faculty, staff, and students lose faith in both. You see it in budget situations where the board is briefed last. You see it in slide decks with cherry-picked data instead of raw truth. You see it when reform-minded trustees are censured or shunned. You see it when presidents resign, retire—or are forced out. This isn’t just a structural problem. It’s cultural. And left unaddressed, it erodes the very idea of shared governance for our communities of learning.

To be fair, the challenge of board governance has been made even more complex by external political forces—especially due to the Trump administration. Efforts to control higher education through politicized grant funding, attacks on DEI, and threats to academic freedom have made board leadership a far more difficult task. I truly sympathize with that. It’s not easy to navigate governance in an environment where education itself is under siege. But these pressures demand more synergy between boards and academic leaders, not less. It requires university presidents and vice presidents to take their boards seriously—not to deceive or sideline them or poorly execute their ideas simply because they can. Just because academic leaders may have more institutional knowledge doesn’t give them license to manipulate that asymmetry. Trust, transparency, and collaboration must be mutual. Otherwise, we risk deepening the very fractures that outside forces are trying to exploit.

When Boards Turn on Themselves

Boards don’t only get shut out—they also sometimes have conflict from within. Some of the boldest, most thoughtful board members I’ve encountered—those who challenge assumptions, advocate for equity, and think beyond the box—have been quietly marginalized by their peers. They’ve told me that their questions are labeled “disruptive.” Their ideas are seen as “too political.” They are sidelined in committees or cut out of key decisions altogether.

At Michigan State University, board infighting reached a fever pitch following the Nassar scandal. Trustees leaked emails, hired private investigators, and publicly attacked each other while ignoring the needs of survivors and the wider university community. Faculty and students watched in dismay as the board became the story—and not in a good way.

Now, the University of Colorado Board of Regents spent $500,000 to investigate and seek censure of Regent Wanda James—the first Black woman ever elected to the board. James has been an advocate for transparency, racial justice, and institutional accountability. In her view, instead of engaging her ideas in good faith, some of her colleagues have chosen retaliation. She has made it clear for the public in her LinkedIn posts that the board censure vote is not about decorum or conduct—it’s about control and punishing a leader who named some uncomfortable truths about higher education.

This conflict is an issue we must confront head-on in higher education. In my years serving on nonprofit boards—mission-driven, equity-focused organizations like the NEA Foundation, the Schott Foundation, and the Network for Public Education—I’ve experienced deep collaboration, principled debate, and a shared sense of purpose. Even when disagreements arose, they were grounded in mutual respect, not politics. The collegiality and clarity of mission in those spaces stand in stark contrast to what we’re now seeing on some university boards. If we want higher education to thrive, we must expect more from our governance—not just in policy and practice, but in principle.

What We Need: Brave Boards and Honest Leaders

The solution is a different kind of culture. We need better board education that goes beyond fiduciary basics to include academic culture, racial equity, free speech, and shared governance. Structures for dissent—both on boards and in leadership—that don’t punish those who think differently. Governing bodies that reflect the communities they serve, not just donors and insiders. Transparency protocols that make honesty the default, not the exception.

Courageous governance means being willing to tell hard truths—to each other and to the public. It means creating space for disagreement, not silencing it. It means seeing boards not as political obstacles, but as institutional stewards capable of reflection, learning, and growth. And it means academic leaders have to stop playing defense and start rebuilding trust—one honest conversation at a time.

Conclusion: The Cost of Silence Is Too High

If university leadership doesn’t trust the board—and boards don’t trust each other—we are no longer governing. We are managing decline. I’ve seen it happen. I’m aware of situations where it is my perspective that board members were lied to. I’ve witnessed leaders withhold critical information, sidestep accountability for their decisions, or manipulate timelines and narratives to avoid scrutiny. And every time, it’s students, faculty, and communities who pay the price.

Let’s stop pretending this isn’t happening.

At the same time, I want to give kudos to the boards that are getting it right—those that cultivate trust, model transparency, and build genuine, collegial relationships with one another and with university leadership. These boards aren’t just effective—they’re essential. They demonstrate what shared governance can look like at its best: collaborative, mission-driven, and accountable.

But even strong boards must stay vigilant. Academic leaders—no matter how polished or popular or long-serving—must be held to high standards. Respectful relationships are not a license for deference. Transparency must be mutual, and boards must have the courage to ask hard questions, demand real answers, and create a culture where truth isn’t filtered through fear. Because in the end, governance is not just about oversight—it’s about stewardship. And if we truly care about our communities, that stewardship must be both courageous and clear-eyed.

Let’s rebuild the trust. Let’s restore the integrity. And let’s lead like it matters—because it does. While this post draws on examples from university governance, the underlying principles apply just as powerfully to school boards, nonprofit boards, and corporate boards. Leadership at the top sets the tone for the entire organization. It takes a president—or CEO, superintendent, or executive director—who is committed to not hiding hard truths from the board. Because surprises don’t just appear—they happen when someone chooses not to share much earlier. It takes a leader who values community over performance, and honesty over optics. One who is willing to sit down with the board and speak plainly—celebrating accomplishments, yes, but also being transparent about where outcomes are falling short. A leader who can name the internal and external factors at play and outline how they intend to address them—not to shift blame, but to build a shared path forward. When leadership and governance are grounded in honesty, trust, and mutual responsibility, institutions don’t just survive—they evolve, improve, and thrive.

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