Few concepts are invoked more confidently in contemporary universities than the ‘Student Voice. Yet the term – especially when framed in the language of ‘championing the Student Voice’ – can obscure an important distinction. Students are authoritative witnesses to their experience of teaching, assessment, services, and institutional culture. They are not, simply by being students, final authorities on the disciplinary goods and educational standards into which they are being initiated.
The point is not that universities should listen less, or that they should ignore evidence of poor teaching, exclusion, inaccessibility, unclear assessment, or institutional failure. In such cases, responsiveness is a responsibility. The issue is different: universities should not confuse listening with obeying, or immediate preference with educational judgement. Sometimes educational responsibility requires the willingness to be deliberately unresponsive.
The Student Voice
Institutional discourse often prefers the abstract singular ‘the Student Voice’ to the more awkward plural ‘students’ voices’. The problem is not merely grammatical. In practice, institutional processes often translate many student voices into a manageable singular: a satisfaction score, a committee report, a survey theme, or a ‘you said, we did’ action.
The singular reifies the student body into a convenient, unified abstraction – one that can be readily consulted, quoted, and acted upon in surveys, reports, and quality-assurance processes. This simplifies messy, often conflicting realities while granting selected feedback an aura of institutional legitimacy. By contrast, ‘students’ voices’ foregrounds genuine multiplicity: distinct, situated, and often clashing perspectives that are far harder to operationalise.
Surveys and similar mechanisms have legitimate uses. They can help teachers identify what appears to be working with a particular class, and they can reveal failures in services, communication, access, or institutional support. Students can tell us whether assessment instructions are unclear, whether feedback is timely or intelligible, whether workloads are badly distributed, whether teaching materials are accessible, whether study spaces are adequate, or whether institutional arrangements create unnecessary barriers to participation. This evidence matters.
But its role is diagnostic rather than determinative. Student feedback provides evidence about student experience; it does not, by itself, settle questions of educational value. At curriculum level especially, student responses are often situated, partial, and shaped by the learner’s current position within a longer process of formation. This does not exclude genuine partnership or co-creation. It does mean that partnership must respect the difference between student experience, student preference, and disciplinary judgement. Treating feedback as a mandate rather than as evidence inflates its status while obscuring its limits.
Championing the Student Voice
In Macbeth, Shakespeare gives us one of the earliest recorded uses of ‘champion’ as a verb. Macbeth calls Fate into the ‘list’ – the arena of combat – to ‘champion me to th’ utterance’. Critics differ over whether this means fighting against him or on his behalf. Either way, the word is agonistic: it evokes combat, sides, and struggle to the utmost.
That history matters because even the modern sense of ‘championing’ is not neutral. To champion something is to advocate for it, promote it, and take its side. So when universities speak of ‘championing the Student Voice’, they do more than consult, record, or interpret student opinion: they cast it as a cause to be advanced. The question then becomes: advanced in relation to what, or against whom? Too often, the implicit answer is educational judgement itself.
This does not mean that student interests and academic judgement are enemies. The danger is subtler: the language of championing can make it harder to ask what student testimony is evidence of, how it should be interpreted, and when good education may require resistance to immediate preference. This points to a broader discomfort with hierarchy, expertise, and educational authority.
Educating Desires
The effects of this dynamic are visible across higher education, where educational judgement can drift towards consumer sentiment and preference satisfaction.
This matters because desires – and the claims of entitlement sometimes built upon them – are not necessarily educated or independently formed. As René Girard argues, desire is often mimetic: shaped socially through imitation rather than autonomous judgement. Student preferences are therefore influenced by peers, marketing, institutional culture, employability narratives, assessment patterns, reward structures, and the wider status economy of higher education.
This does not invalidate student judgement. But it does mean that immediacy and sincerity alone cannot establish educational authority.
Some forms of responsiveness are plainly necessary. Universities should respond when students identify inaccessible materials, confusing assessment briefs, unreasonable bunching of deadlines, inadequate feedback, poor communication, discriminatory environments, or insufficient study space. In these cases, student testimony can reveal real failures in teaching, support, or institutional design.
But other forms of unresponsiveness may be educationally responsible. A university may need to preserve intellectual difficulty even when it is unpopular; maintain demanding standards even when they depress satisfaction scores; require engagement with unfamiliar or unsettling material; resist redesigning curricula around short-term employability fashions; or refuse to treat ease, convenience, and enjoyment as direct measures of educational quality.
When institutions elevate unexamined preference into a quasi-authoritative Student Voice, at least three consequences can follow:
- immediate wants are mistaken for educational needs;
- the language of entitlement displaces deliberation about educational purpose;
- disciplinary and pedagogic expertise is recast as an obstacle rather than a resource.
At this point, the issue is no longer merely administrative. It is educational and philosophical.
Alasdair MacIntyre, writing about Catholic universities but raising a wider question about education and formation, argues that a university should be ‘unresponsive, to give its students what they need, not what they want, and to do so in such a way that what they want becomes what they need and what they choose is choiceworthy’ (2001, p. 15).
This is a defence not of indifference but of accountable educational authority. The university’s task is not to mirror existing preferences but to help educate desire itself. Students necessarily encounter disciplines as relative newcomers to their histories, standards, methods, and internal goods. Their judgement develops in relation to goods they may not yet fully understand. Teachers, at their best, do not speak merely from institutional power, but on behalf of standards internal to intellectual traditions, disciplines, and practices.
Education therefore requires a productive asymmetry before it can produce genuine intellectual independence. That asymmetry must be accountable, open to criticism, and responsive to evidence of failure. But it cannot be dissolved into preference satisfaction without ceasing to be educational.
If universities abandon the authority required to educate desire, they do not become more democratic or humane. They simply abandon the standards and practices that make genuine education possible. Student voices matter deeply; but they matter as part of educational judgement, not as a substitute for it. The challenge is to listen seriously without making preference sovereign.
References
Alasdair MacIntyre (2001) Catholic Universities: Dangers, Hopes, Choices in Robert E. Sullivan (ed.) Higher Learning and Catholic Traditions. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, pp. 1–21.
René Girard (1976) Deceit, Desire, and the Novel: Self and Other in Literary Structure. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.
(Eugène Delacroix: Macbeth Consulting the Witches (1825))
