The Demoralising Cost of Ignorant Criticism

There is a particular kind of sting that comes when your work is publicly questioned by someone who not only doesn’t understand it, but hasn’t made any real effort to try. For staff, volunteers, and consultants working in membership organisations, it’s a familiar and dispiriting experience. You’ve invested time, energy, and care into your work, only to find it diminished by a board or committee member with more opinion than insight, more ego than expertise.

Healthy challenge is good, scrutiny is essential, and it is entirely appropriate, even necessary, for board or committee members to ask questions, seek evidence, and test assumptions. But when that challenge comes from a place of ignorance, laziness, or misplaced authority, it stops being constructive and starts being corrosive. And when it happens in the rarefied, politically charged environment of a membership organisation, the effects ripple far beyond the meeting room.

This dynamic is especially harmful when it is presented as concern or oversight. A casual remark in a board meeting. A sarcastic aside in a subcommittee. A passive-aggressive email that questions the competence or intentions of the very people doing the work. These acts may seem small on the surface, but they speak volumes, especially when made by someone who hasn’t read the papers, misunderstood the context, or simply refuses to acknowledge that they are not the subject-matter expert in the room.

It’s bad enough when this happens to external consultants, but it’s even more demoralising when it happens to in-house staff. These are the people who dedicate their professional lives to keeping the organisation running day-to-day, often going above and beyond with little recognition. They carry institutional memory, manage complex relationships, balance the competing expectations of members, and try to deliver on strategic plans with limited resources and constant scrutiny.

When a board or committee member, particularly one who has little operational experience, dismisses their work or casts aspersions on their judgement, it’s more than just offensive. It’s damaging. It saps morale, diminishes loyalty, and quietly encourages a culture of defensiveness and fear. Staff stop feeling safe to innovate. They become wary of speaking up. They spend more time managing the politics of perception than solving the problems that matter.

Let’s call it what it is, a failure of governance. Boards are meant to operate at a strategic level, setting direction, overseeing risk, and supporting the executive team to deliver. They are not there to micromanage, second-guess operational decisions, or offer amateur commentary on specialist work. And yet, many board or committee members, particularly in associations, where seats are often filled through popularity rather than competency, find themselves unable to resist the urge to intervene.

Some do it out of genuine concern, but lack the humility to realise they’re out of their depth. Others do it to assert power, demonstrate relevance, or simply because they believe their status entitles them to have the final say. Whatever the motivation, the result is the same: talent walks away. Sometimes quietly. Sometimes bitterly. But always with the lingering sense that the organisation is stuck in a loop of its own making.

There’s a particular injustice in all this that’s worth dwelling on. Most staff and consultants working in the membership sector aren’t doing it for the money or the glory. They’re doing it because they believe in the purpose of the organisation. Because they care about members. Because they want to help build something better. That intrinsic motivation is precious, and fragile. When it is repeatedly undermined by people who neither understand nor appreciate the complexity of the work, it begins to fade. And when enough of that goodwill disappears, the sector starts to haemorrhage experience and potential.

So what’s the solution?

First, board members must be properly inducted. Not just into the governance basics, but into the culture of respectful oversight. They need to understand their role and, crucially, their limits. That includes recognising when they are not qualified to critique certain decisions, and learning to trust those who are.

Second, there needs to be a mechanism for staff (and consultants) to safely raise concerns when board behaviour becomes inappropriate. Too often, the power imbalance prevents people from speaking up. And even when they do, they fear being labelled difficult, defensive, or uncooperative. Associations that value their people must create space for constructive feedback in both directions, and act on it.

Third, the chair of the board has a particular responsibility to model good behaviour. That means intervening when discussions go off track, challenging board members who overreach, and creating a culture in which staff and external experts are treated with professional respect. Chairs set the tone. If the tone is dismissive or arrogant, it gives permission for others to behave the same way.

Finally, we must all stop pretending that this behaviour is rare or harmless. It’s not. It’s common, and it’s corrosive. Every time it happens without consequence, it reinforces a message that expertise is optional, that politics trumps professionalism, and that power can be exercised without care.

It’s easy to talk about trust as a value. Harder to live it in practice. But trust is the foundation on which effective associations are built. Without it, governance becomes theatre. Staff become disillusioned. Consultants stop trying. And members, the people we’re all here to serve, lose out.

The next time a board or committee member feels tempted to dismiss, downplay, or disparage the work of their staff or external experts, they might consider the possibility that they don’t know everything. That perhaps their role is not to speak louder, but to listen more carefully. That leadership isn’t about winning the room, it’s about stewarding a culture of shared respect and collective purpose; because when you cast aspersions on work you don’t understand, you don’t just demoralise the people doing it. You destabilise the very organisation you claim to serve.