When misconduct moves on

One of the most infuriating things about university misconduct is not only that it happens; it is that people are allowed to walk away, often with limited consequences. 

I’m not talking about rumours, personality conflicts or allegations that have not been assessed. I’m talking about cases where serious evidence has been gathered and institutions know enough to act. Yet instead of having to assume clear accountability, the person leaves. The departure is described as a career transition, a mutual decision or a retirement. The person moves on. The institution moves on. Those who were harmed are left with the consequences, and with the bitter knowledge that justice was not done. 

Then, sometimes, the person appears at another university. 

This is where my patience runs thin. As an applied ethicist who has spent decades working on the responsible conduct of research, I have seen too many cases where bureaucratic fragmentation, reputational self-protection and lack of institutional courage combine to produce the same result: misconduct is managed, not confronted. 

A professor, senior researcher, or manager may leave one institution with a clean-looking CV, carefully chosen references, and no visible institutional trace of the harms they have caused. The next institution may not know that students changed supervisors, staff left teams, junior colleagues avoided collaboration, or formal concerns had been raised. It may not know that restrictions were imposed, investigations were underway, or that the departure occurred under a spreading cloud of distrust. 

This problem is not easy to address. People should not be publicly condemned simply because someone made an allegation. Institutions must distinguish unresolved conflicts from substantiated misconduct. Responses should be proportionate to the level of fault; aim, where possible, for rehabilitation; and remain open to the possibility that people can change. 

But fairness cannot mean allowing serious misconduct to disappear when someone changes employers.

READ MORE: When colleagues become bullies – University Affairs 

Enjoying autonomy means taking responsibility 

Other sectors have recognized this problem and implemented mitigation strategies. In medicine, for example, professional mobility is balanced with public protection. Canada is moving toward a national registry of physicians so that regulatory authorities can access relevant information across jurisdictions, including disciplinary actions. 

The analogy is imperfect. Universities are not colleges of medicine and academics are not licensed through a national professional regulator. But like members of formal professions, professors and universities operate under a social contract. Society gives universities significant autonomy because they serve public goods: education, expertise, research and the transmission of knowledge. Academic freedom is important because knowledge production requires independence from political interference and commercial pressure. Universities need space to govern themselves. 

But self-governance demands responsibility. 

If universities want to preserve their autonomy, they must show that they can govern misconduct effectively. That means more than teaching research ethics, writing codes of conduct, and requiring online training modules that everyone clicks through so they can get back to what they were doing. It means building systems that promote good conduct, reduce incentives to cheat or abuse power, protect those who raise concerns, and impose real consequences when misconduct is substantiated. 

When universities fail to do this, they damage the trust of students, staff, faculty, funders, governments, and the broader public. They also invite external control. If institutions repeatedly show that they cannot deal with their own misconduct, they should not be surprised when others decide to regulate them more aggressively. 

READ MORE: When misconduct disappears into university bureaucracy – University Affairs

Misconduct information must be shared 

This is why universities need a fair, limited, and due-process-protected mechanism for sharing serious misconduct information across institutions. Not a public blacklist. Not a registry of rumours. Those would be unjust and dangerous. 

What is needed is a structured inter-institutional process for cases involving substantiated findings, formal sanctions, restrictions on supervision or leadership, or resignations during active proceedings under clearly defined conditions. These serious documented outcomes should be known before another institution grants someone authority over students, staff, research funds, laboratories or academic programs. 

Such a system would need safeguards. It should distinguish allegations from findings. It should define what information can be shared, with whom, and under what conditions. It should include review and appeal mechanisms. It should respect collective agreements and privacy law, without allowing either to become a permanent veto on accountability. It should be proportionate to the seriousness of the misconduct and the responsibilities being sought. It should not permanently mark people for every error, conflict or failure of judgment. 

READ MORE: When collegiality breeds contempt – University Affairs 

Universities: protecting fairness or protecting themselves? 

Universities need to stop treating serious misconduct as an internal embarrassment to be contained. A person who has used academic power to harm students, staff, trainees or colleagues is not only a local problem. They may become a problem for the next department, the next university, the next research team or the next cohort of graduate students. 

When such people are allowed to leave quietly, universities are not protecting fairness; they are protecting themselves. 

There will be hard cases. There will be legal constraints. There will be resistance from institutions, associations, unions and lawyers. Good. Serious governance problems usually come with paperwork and objections, but that is not a reason to avoid them. 

The real question is whether universities are willing to build systems that match the responsibilities they claim. If we believe in academic self-governance, then we must take self-governance seriously. That includes the uncomfortable work of sanctioning misconduct, limiting authority, sharing relevant information and refusing to let institutional reputation eclipse future harm. 

When misconduct moves on, it rarely moves alone. It carries the whiff of institutional failure. 

Universities can either address that failure themselves, or wait for others to do it for them.