In July 2025, the University of Virginia Faculty Senate took an extraordinary step that stunned even seasoned observers of higher education: they voted no confidence in the Board of Visitors—not over scandal or financial mismanagement, but because the board failed to defend the university’s president against political interference threatening academic freedom, free speech, and the success of students and faculty alike.

The catalyst was the resignation of UVA President Jim Ryan, who had come under attack by the Trump administration for his support of initiatives promoting student and faculty opportunity and success. As federal pressure mounted—including threats to international student visas, research funding, and the university’s autonomy—Ryan made the difficult decision to step down. He put it plainly: “I am inclined to fight for what I believe in… but I cannot make a unilateral decision to fight the federal government in order to save my own job.” His use of “unilateral” made one thing clear: he did not have the backing of the Board of Visitors to stand and fight.

The faculty did not merely express regret. They took a clear and forceful stand. In a 46 to 6 vote, they declared that the Board of Visitors had failed the university by capitulating to political intimidation and neglecting their duty to consult academic leaders. The no-confidence vote was more than symbolic. It was a public statement that confidence, once lost, can destabilize not just individuals but entire institutions.

The Meaning of No Confidence

A vote of no confidence is not just a bad day at the office. It is an institutional rupture. It declares that the relationship between a leader and those they serve has broken down so completely that it can no longer be patched over by talking points or town halls. While these votes are usually non-binding, they are profoundly consequential. They carry the weight of collective moral judgment.

Losing confidence isn’t always about corruption or scandal. Often it’s about absence—a failure to show up, to defend the mission, or to lead when it matters most. Other times it’s about overreach, when leadership makes decisions without consultation, flattens dissent, or undermines core democratic processes.

In Jim Ryan’s case, he didn’t lose the confidence of faculty. Rather, he lost the backing of the governing board. And in his absence, faculty decided to speak out—not only in defense of him but also in defense of the university’s values.

Confidence Is Not Popularity

Leadership is not a popularity contest. It requires tough decisions, some of which will spark disagreement. But trust and popularity are not the same thing. Confidence is about the belief that a leader is acting with integrity, transparency, and a commitment to shared values.

When confidence in a leader erodes, it usually does so for a reason. Often, it begins with specific moments—failures to protect the community from political interference or discrimination, decisions made behind closed doors, or actions that contradict the institution’s stated values. These lapses can create a growing sense of hypocrisy, alienating those who once believed in the leader’s vision.

But the damage goes deeper than any one decision. When shared governance is sidelined in favor of top-down mandates, and when the voices of vulnerable or underrepresented groups are ignored, the result is not just discontent—it’s a fundamental misalignment between leadership and the collective sense of purpose. What begins as frustration becomes a fracture in trust, and eventually, a crisis of legitimacy.

Western Michigan University: A Case Study in Decline

In higher education, we have seen a series of such ruptures. President Edward Montgomery at Western Michigan University (WMU) faced two no-confidence votes during his tenure. The first came in late 2021 from the WMU chapter of the American Association of University Professors, who cited failures in shared governance and declining academic investment. The second came in September 2024, when all three academic unions—full-time faculty, part-time instructors, and graduate teaching assistants—jointly issued a no-confidence resolution after citing ongoing labor disputes, resource inequities, and an erosion of institutional trust. According to media reports, these votes were not impulsive. They followed years of unmet concerns, public protest, and an administration seen as increasingly detached from its core academic community.

The consequences have been visible. During Montgomery’s tenure, WMU saw enrollment decline from approximately 23,000 students in Fall 2017 to about 16,700 by Fall 2023—a drop of more than 6,000 students, or approximately 28.6 percent. By comparison, Grand Valley State University, another public institution in West Michigan, experienced a far smaller enrollment decline during the same period—from about 25,000 to 22,200 students, a reduction of roughly 11.1 percent. In media reports, faculty at WMU pointed to underfunded graduate programs, delayed degrees, and the loss of public confidence in the university’s academic mission. They also cited administrators prioritizing infrastructure projects and rebranding campaigns while students and faculty watched academic programs wither. I wasn’t at WMU between 2017 and 2023, but faculty have told me that this wasn’t just a crisis of strategy. It was a collapse in the social contract between a public university and the people who give it life.

Michigan and Kentucky: Confidence Fractures at Flagships

At the University of Michigan, President Mark Schlissel’s COVID-era decisions led to a faculty vote of no confidence in 2021. Faculty cited his disregard for health and safety, failure to engage faculty governance, and a growing distrust of centralized executive decision-making. Although the Board of Regents initially tried to invalidate the vote, public pressure led to its reinstatement. Schlissel was eventually removed in 2022 for an unrelated scandal. But by 2024, the discontent had shifted to the Board itself. Faculty voted to censure the Regents for sidelining shared governance, centralizing power, and failing to act transparently during the presidency of Santa Ono. So these were not isolated grievances it appears they reflect a deep institutional anxiety about eroding governance norms.

The University of Kentucky faced a similar reckoning. In May 2024, the University Senate passed a resolution of no confidence in President Eli Capilouto following his push to restructure the university’s governance model. Under his plan, the inclusive University Senate—composed of faculty, students, and administrators would be dismantled and replaced with separate representative bodies for faculty, staff, and students. While the administration framed this as an inclusive move to strengthen shared governance, many faculty viewed it as a power grab that diluted academic authority. The Board of Trustees supported Capilouto’s changes with a 19 to 1 vote, leaving faculty feeling further sidelined. Critics described the process as rushed, nontransparent, and dismissive of long-standing governance traditions. For many, the vote was not just about structural change, it was about trust.

What It Means in K–12 Education

This phenomenon is not unique to higher education. In K–12 districts, superintendents and principals have also faced no-confidence votes from teachers, parents, and school boards. These moments look similar. They often begin with concerns about authoritarian leadership styles, lack of transparency, or disregard for student and staff wellbeing.

In 2014, teachers in Jeffco Public Schools in Colorado led a large-scale no-confidence campaign against the school board and superintendent. The campaign was triggered by perceived top-down decisions, political agendas, and cuts to teacher pay and curriculum oversight. The unrest culminated in massive student walkouts and a successful recall election that removed key board members.

In 2022, teachers in Oakland Unified School District issued a no-confidence vote against the superintendent over controversial school closures and a failure to engage the community. In 2024, educators in Clayton County, Georgia, did the same following staffing crises and poor communication around budget cuts.

A K-12 no-confidence vote does not automatically result in a firing or resignation. But it places political pressure on school boards, may trigger investigations, and often shapes the public narrative. In the aftermath, leaders either rebuild trust—or continue to govern without it, often with declining effectiveness.

What Lies Beneath the Surface

No-confidence votes often surface during moments of high tension—a failed contract, a controversial decision, a campus protest. But these flashpoints usually reveal much deeper problems. They are the result of long-standing tensions that have been ignored, dismissed, or deliberately obscured.

The erosion of trust begins quietly. It starts when consultation is replaced with press announcements and polished emails. When feedback loops close. When diversity initiatives are treated as checkbox compliance instead of cultural transformation. And when campus leaders adopt corporate tactics rather than community-driven values.

These tensions become crises when leaders misread the pulse of their communities. Boards must act responsibly by managing risk, protecting reputation, and streamlining decision-making. But the easiest responsibility of any board is also the most essential: understand an care about the people you serve.

When Confidence Fails, So Does the Mission

Losing the confidence of a university, school, or district community is not just a public relations problem. It disrupts the very mission of the institution.

If educators feel silenced, shared governance becomes theater.

If students feel unheard, educational access becomes transactional.

If staff feel expendable, workplace climate collapses.

And if boards ignore the warnings, they become responsible for institutional decay.

Just about every mission statement in education proclaims a commitment to learning and excellence. But those words are hollow unless they are enacted through participatory governance and transparent leadership.

Should You Resign? Or Should You Change?

When leaders face a confidence crisis, they often ask: should I resign? As I explored in a previous post on Cloaking Inequity, the answer is not always clear. Sometimes resignation is an act of integrity. The key question is whether the leader is committed to change—or blocks it.

In the case of Jim Ryan, resignation was a shield for his campus. In other cases, staying in the role may offer a chance to rebuild. But only if the leader is willing to listen, change course, and engage in authentic repair.

The deeper question we must ask is not just whether leaders should resign, but whether they were truly listening in the first place. Whether they built coalitions of trust, or merely managed appearances. Whether they believed their legitimacy came from authority—or from service.

The Real Vote

A vote of no confidence is dramatic, but the real vote happens long before it makes headlines. It happens when educators stop speaking up in meetings and quietly step back from governance. When students disengage or seek opportunities elsewhere. When staff stop pursuing promotions and begin planning their exit. Trust doesn’t always collapse with a declaration—it often fades in silence.

Leadership is not about surviving these votes. It’s about preventing them through the daily practice of integrity, transparency, and humility. It’s about leading in ways that build lasting trust, especially during moments of uncertainty. The institutions that endure are not those that suppress conflict or dissent, but those that cultivate the strength to confront it, repair what’s broken, and move forward with a shared sense of purpose. That is the kind of confidence worth earning—and worth fighting for.