The boardroom mirror: culture, candour and collective accountability

Nqobani Mzizi

Imagine a boardroom where every agenda item is met with swift approvals and diplomatic silence. The minutes are clean, the structures are in place, and everyone appears to be doing their job. Yet beneath the surface lies a more uncomfortable reality: challenge is avoided, and leadership is reluctant to confront hard truths.

This is groupthink in its most dangerous form, where the desire for harmony overrides critical thinking and dissenting voices self-censor to preserve boardroom ‘peace’. In such a setting, governance failure doesn’t arrive with a bang. It creeps in quietly, wearing the mask of order.

Board culture is often invisible until it’s tested. It doesn’t reside in policy documents but in tone, trust and how questions are asked, or silenced. It reveals itself in moments of discomfort: when decisions are hard, stakes are high and consensus isn’t convenient. Governance, then, is not simply about compliance or committees; it is about courage. The courage to question, to act.

The boardroom thus acts as a mirror, reflecting the true culture, candour and collective accountability of an organisation, and revealing what is nurtured or neglected at the highest level.

Two recent case studies, Daybreak Foods and ArcelorMittal South Africa, underscore this point. They reveal how governance plays out not just in form, but in posture.

Daybreak Foods (Daybreak), a poultry producer funded by the Public Investment Corporation (PIC), has become a flashpoint in debates on ethical leadership and accountability. Acquired in 2015 for R1.5 billion, it has faced persistent governance challenges. Between late 2024 and early 2025, Daybreak’s financial distress escalated, leading to defaulting on loans and failing to pay suppliers.

In February 2025, the PIC approved a R250 million funding facility aimed at stabilising operations and restoring the business. The funds were not fully disbursed until May 2025, despite the gravity of the situation and repeated pleas by management.

Prior to this, internal restructuring was initiated under the former CEO, who, along with other executives, resigned in frustration as operational strain intensified and financial relief was delayed.

The governance failure unfolded not overnight, but in slow motion, most recently resulting in the culling of 350 000 birds by the NSPCA due to severe animal welfare failures, protests by unpaid workers and government intervention to assess the impact on public funds. As if things could not get any worse, it is reported that the board chairperson has abruptly resigned shortly after receiving a R625 000 payment – a move that has sparked further controversy amid the crisis.

The board’s role has been heavily scrutinised, despite its late or insufficient attempts at governance reforms (including appointing new non-executive directors and establishing whistleblowing mechanisms).

Despite early warnings, it failed to prevent the crisis, maintain leadership stability or adequately manage animal welfare risks. And more fundamentally, did the board respond with the urgency the situation demanded, or did it move at the pace of bureaucracy while the business burned?

As a shareholder, the PIC also cannot be absolved. Their sluggish response raises questions: was it navigating internal bureaucratic processes or simply failing to act? 

Governance does not only live in boardrooms; it lives in shareholder relations too.

Contrast this with ArcelorMittal South Africa (Amsa), which has also faced immense strain –declining steel demand, rising input costs, logistics bottlenecks and unreliable electricity supply.

In late 2024, Amsa announced it would place its long-steel operations under care and maintenance, affecting over 3 000 jobs. The decision was not taken lightly. It was the result of board-led scenario analysis, cost reviews, stakeholder consultations, and clear-headed assessments of market realities.

What stands out is not the pragmatic yet harsh outcome, but rather how the board carried out its duty. They did not shield themselves from discomfort. They communicated transparently with shareholders, the government and unions. They acknowledged the gravity of the closure and the economic consequences. And they took public ownership of the decision.

Of course, the board was not insulated from criticism. No leadership body is. But their conduct illustrates a fundamental principle of governance: when the path is unclear, courage and transparency are non-negotiable.

Amsa’s board could not rescue the market, but it did demonstrate what it means to govern under pressure; to engage, to weigh trade-offs and to lead through uncertainty. This posture – visible, engaged, and accountable – is what sets Amsa’s governance apart.

While Daybreak’s crisis unfolded amid leadership silence, internal fracture and delayed capital, Amsa’s board projected alignment, forthrightness and collective responsibility. Neither case is perfect, since perfection is not the measure in governance. The standard is integrity, responsiveness and stewardship in action.

Candour, therefore, is not about confrontation, but about clarity. It is the ability to say what needs to be said, even when it is unpopular. It’s the board member who names the blindspot. The chair who invites dissent. The executive who tells the truth early, before the crisis escalates.

Collective accountability, too, matters deeply. Governance is not a spectator sport. Directors can’t simply say; “We weren’t informed”.

Good boards ask the hard questions before headlines are written. They view silence not as safety, but as risk. Groupthink thrives in these silences, mistaking unanimity for unity and compliance for commitment.

Ultimately, what unfolds in any organisation reflects what is tolerated or ignored at the top. Culture is not a buzzword. It is the practical expression of values in everyday decision-making. And boardroom culture either inoculates a company against failure or quietly enables it.

So, as this weekly conversation continues, I challenge every director reading this to ask:

• Does your boardroom encourage truth-telling or just agreement?
• Are you building a culture that surfaces risk or buries it?
• When crises emerge, does your board lead decisively or freeze behind formality
• When ethical fault lines appear, do your directors walk together or fracture underpressure?

Because the boardroom is not merely a chamber of record. It is a mirror. And in it, everydecision, delay, and silence is reflected, not just back to the board, but to the public, theshareholder, and the legacy you will leave behind.

Nqobani Mzizi is a Professional Accountant (SA), Cert. Dir (IoDSA) and an Academic.

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