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To lead in higher education feels much like inhabiting a shifting identify.

One moment you are a strategist expected to speak in spreadsheets and scenario plans. The next, you are a listener, empathetic, calm, human, supporting a student in distress. You leave that conversation only to enter a room full of staff in which morale is flatlining and you are now a motivational figure, expected to energise and inspire. Finish all these, and it’s not even 10am! Before the day is over, you are potentially answering questions from university leaders who want metrics, mitigations and certainty.

If it feels like you’re performing multiple, sometimes conflicting roles across a single day, it is really because you are. And the deeper truth is that it is not a flaw – it is simply the job.

Increasingly, leadership in universities demands what feels like a professionally sanctioned form of adaptive multiplicity. I use the phrase carefully to name a reality that many senior leaders know intimately but rarely articulate. The constant emotional and intellectual switching, the need to adjust tone, style, even the way you put your values in practice depending on the room you are in, creates a kind of managed fragmentation. Over time, this potentially leaves many leaders with a nagging internal question: who am I really in this job, and how many versions of me are left?

Flex and strain

This phenomenon has intensified as the sector has grown more complex, even in the short period of time of the last 15 years since I joined academia.

Universities are now sites of competing expectations. Students see themselves as clients, citizens and many times co-creators of their learning – most of the time, all at once – and they rightfully expect to be treated accordingly. Staff expect authentic leadership that values their autonomy, but also want decisive action when systems stumble. Senior teams expect accountability, agility and strategic execution, while external bodies, in their usual “supportive approach”, demand ever increasing levels of compliance, assurance and visible grip.

Each of these communities needs something different from their leaders. They do not all speak the same language, and thus leaders become translators, switchboards and even shape-shifters. It is not performance in the sense of fakery but it is code-switching as a leadership survival strategy.

But even though this capacity to flex and adapt is a strength and should be firmly encouraged, it is also a source of strain. You learn to adapt so well, so naturally, that you risk forgetting what it feels to be still. You begin to filter your words so frequently that spontaneous speech starts to feel dangerous. You work hard to be authentic in different spaces but wonder whether your authenticity looks different depending on who is watching. And while you may pride yourself on being emotionally intelligent, you notice that your own emotional reserves deplete faster than they can replenish.

This kind of labour (emotional, relational, cognitive) is almost entirely invisible in institutional language. It doesn’t appear on strategic plans or in KPIs and metrics. It is not listed in job descriptions or annual reviews. How could it even be? It is not something that can be easily defined.

But, somehow, it is the glue that holds teams, cultures and people together. When a leader gets the tone wrong in a difficult moment, it can take weeks to rebuild trust. When they get it right, there is often no visible outcome because good leadership so often manifests as the evident absence of crisis. This is a key leadership paradox: when you do this work well, very few notice. When you falter, everyone does.

Shifting registers

The multiple selves of leadership are, in many ways, shaped by the multiple identities of the university itself. Higher education is a place of intellectual freedom, but also of bureaucratic machinery. It is a workplace, a community, a brand and a battleground for values. In this context, leaders are asked to be both deeply human and relentlessly strategic. You must lead with your heart while justifying decisions with data. You must be decisive without being authoritarian, empathetic without appearing weak and consistent without being rigid. All leaders will tell you it is a delicate calibration and no two days are the same.

The benefits of this kind of psychological pluralism are real though. Leaders who are able to shift between registers can build bridges between otherwise disconnected parts of the institution. They are more likely to hear what’s not being said and they are better equipped to hold space for complexity, to manage contradictions without defaulting to simplistic solutions. In short, they are able to lead courses, curriculum areas, departments, schools, faculties, campuses or universities that are themselves fractured, plural and dynamic. But none of this is possible without deep self-awareness. Without a strong internal compass, an anchoring sense of purpose and principle, adaptive leadership risks becoming reactive or hollow.

In my own leadership journey, across multiple roles, I have come to both respect and rely on this kind of multiplicity. It has certainly challenged me; it can be uncomfortable and exhausting to change shape so often. But it has also been one of the most professionally rewarding experiences of my life. I have learned more about people, influence, systems and purpose than I could have ever imagined. The act of switching roles deepened my empathy, sharpened my judgement and forced me to become a more deliberate values-led leader. The very difficulty of the work is in many ways what makes it so meaningful.

What leadership in higher education increasingly requires is not just charisma, but presence. The ability to think carefully before acting, to sit with ambiguity rather than force resolution, and to adapt without losing coherence are not signs of weakness but more a mark of maturity. These are not qualities that always show up in leadership frameworks but they are often what hold institutions together when pressure mounts. In a sector where trust is easily lost and change rarely pauses, the capacity to lead with both flexibility and integrity has become more essential than ever.

Don’t panic

For anyone stepping into, or considering, a formal leadership role in higher education (at whatever level!) I would suggest this: know that the title does not prepare you for the internal work.

You will be stretched in ways no leadership framework fully captures. You will need to hold contradiction, manage ambiguity and shift gears constantly. And this will be not just between meetings and conversations, but sometimes within the same sentence. It is demanding, to put it lightly, often invisible work and it can be lonely.

But it is also deeply rewarding, transformative and full of purpose. Especially if you approach your leadership role with humility, clarity of values and a willingness to learn, unlearn, and then adapt some more. And while I believe everyone in HE is already a leader, whether they hold a title or not, those who accept formal leadership positions, regardless of the level, carry a particular responsibility – not to have all answers but to cultivate the space in which people can thrive. It is not about becoming someone else but about learning how to show up differently without ever losing who you are, what values define you.

There is also a deeper cultural discomfort at play. History, and most frameworks, tend to favour the idea of singular leadership identity. But in a sector where the demands are multiple and shifting, I feel consistency is rarely a strength. True leadership authenticity in our sector lies not in being the same person in every room, but in being consistent in your values even as you adapt your delivery. It means having a clear sense of what matters, educationally, ethically, institutionally, and allowing that to shape the different selves you need to inhabit.

And this is not about abandoning coherence – it is about redefining it. Leadership in HE is not a single performance, repeated daily; it is a catalogue of performances. Those who do well – again, regardless of the level which they are at – understand that they will be read differently by different audiences, and that this is not only inevitable but highly necessary. The most successful leaders are those who can integrate their different selves into a single, strategic identify, not fixed, but rooted in the same core values that act as a driving force.

So if you, as a leader in higher education, sometimes feel like you are playing a cast of characters like Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor, do not panic. You are not alone, and you are not doing it wrong. You are doing what the job requires. You are developing a professionally disciplined multiplicity.

Not a flaw, but a capacity. Not a weakness but a way through huge complexity. It is this ability to hold multiple selves in tension, without losing sight of the core values uniting them, that defines successful leadership in HE today. And that, just maybe, is the most authentic thing of all.