RIP Professor Jason Arday: The Tragic Cost of Scrutiny
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
Rest in peace, Professor Jason Arday.
The news of his death at just 41 years old is heartbreaking and devastating. A partner, father, son, friend and colleague has been lost.
My social media timeline is awash with tributes to a man who impacted so many. I never met Professor Jason Arday, but I followed and admired him from afar. I feel deeply sad at his loss, angry at how he was treated and sick to my stomach that we find ourselves standing at yet another crossroads where our shared humanity is being questioned.
Professor Arday, a working-class Black man, became the youngest Black professor in the University of Cambridge’s history. His remarkable journey, scholarship and leadership should be remembered and celebrated.
His death is a devastating loss to education. It should also make us confront some difficult questions about racism, scrutiny, trauma, mental health, the media and institutional responsibility.
Content warning: This article discusses mental health, racism and death.
Contribution
Professor Jason Arday dedicated his life to challenging inequality in education, opening doors for those too often left outside them and pushing institutions to become more reflective of the society they serve.
His work helped shape important conversations about race, social mobility, inclusion and educational justice.
A post by The Black Curriculum reminds us that in moments like these, we all have a choice about the stories we amplify. Let us not reduce a life of service, scholarship and advocacy to its final chapter:
- Let us remember the work.
- Let us remember the impact.
- Let us remember the lives changed because he dared to imagine something better.
We need to drive the right narrative, to honour the legacy and to remember the work.
Accusations, Accountability and Humanity
Professor Arday faced serious public accusations concerning his academic work and other aspects of his record. He disputed allegations of deliberate wrongdoing, and some previous allegations had not been upheld.
I fully agree that questions about academic integrity deserve proper scrutiny.
Accountability matters. Investigations matter. Evidence matters. Truth matters.
But people matter too.
An investigation should never become a process in which we forget there is a human being at its centre.
Professor Arday’s family has spoken about the impact of sustained abuse, harassment and misinformation. The precise circumstances surrounding his death have not yet been established publicly, and we should be careful not to claim a medical or legal cause that has not been confirmed.
But acknowledging that uncertainty does not require us to ignore the context in which his death occurred.
Everyone deserves fairness, due process and an opportunity to respond to allegations without being subjected to relentless public humiliation. Scrutiny and accountability are not the same as dehumanisation.
The Media
I firmly believe that our media needs to take a long, hard look at itself.
Professor Arday was subjected to an extraordinary level of public scrutiny. NEWSCORD has catalogued 249 articles published about him over a period of just 22 days.
Think about that… Two hundred and forty-nine articles… Twenty-two days…
Front pages and headlines are not produced in a vacuum. Editors decide which stories deserve repeated attention. Algorithms reward outrage and engagement. Audiences click, share, comment and search for the next revelation.
Collectively, a human being can become content.
Whatever the rights and wrongs of the allegations against Professor Arday, we must be able to ask whether this level and intensity of scrutiny was proportionate and in the public interest.
We must also be prepared to ask another, more uncomfortable question:
Would everybody have been subjected to the same scrutiny?
This is where it is important that we need to acknowledge and talk about racism.
If we cast our memories back to 1993 when Stephen Lawrence was murdered, there was public outcry at the time about the wrongdoing. The media focused on the individuals and the institutions who were in the wrong to ensure that they were held to account. This led to a lengthy investigation and the publication of the Macpherson Report in 1999. It famously concluded that the Metropolitan Police investigation failed due to “institutional racism,” professional incompetence, and a lack of leadership.
I am curious who will be holding to account the individuals and institutions who are collectively responsible for Professor Arday’s death. I wonder who will drive this justice forward for him and for his family.
Racism, Scrutiny and the Invisible Weight
Racism has severe consequences.
It is not always a racial slur or an explicitly discriminatory act. It can operate through systems, cultures, expectations and patterns of behaviour. It can shape who is presumed competent, who is given the benefit of the doubt, who is scrutinised most intensely, whose mistakes are survivable and whose mistakes become defining.
Professor Arday’s death has prompted many Black academics, educators and leaders to speak publicly about the racialised nature of scrutiny and the invisible weight of occupying spaces in which people like them remain underrepresented.
That invisible weight matters:
- The weight of representation.
- The weight of being “the first”.
- The weight of knowing that your success may be treated as evidence of progress while your mistakes may be used as evidence against an entire agenda for equality.
- The weight of wondering whether you will be afforded the same grace as others.
- The weight of having to be resilient again and again and again.
Racism creates trauma. The cumulative experience of racism can affect mental health, physical health which in turn impacts individual levels of confidence, trust, safety, hope and belonging.
We cannot discuss what happened to Professor Arday without being willing to discuss that context.
In His Own Words
A few weeks ago, I signed the Good Law Project’s Solidarity Letter supporting Professor Arday.
On 5 August, as a signatory I received a personal update from him confirming that he had resigned from his position at the University of Cambridge.
He reflected on becoming the youngest Black professor in Cambridge’s history, something he said he could scarcely have imagined as a child growing up with autism and not speaking until he was 11.
More significantly, he described the personal impact of the scrutiny he was experiencing. He wrote of the “profound toll” the accusations, speculation and public commentary had taken on him and those he loved.
And then came the sentence that, reading it again now, feels particularly heart-breaking: “But there comes a point when the personal cost becomes too great.”
He spoke about wanting to be present for his family. He wanted peace… privacy… an ordinary life. He no longer wanted to live under a constant spotlight in which every aspect of his life was subjected to public examination and judgement.
I think we should sit with those words. Sit with that discomfort. Sit with the knowledge that his Black Excellence had led to such significant personal harm.
Institutional Racism
The Macpherson Report famously described institutional racism as the collective failure of an organisation to provide an appropriate and professional service because of someone’s colour, culture or ethnic origin, manifested through processes, attitudes and behaviours that disadvantage minority ethnic people.
Sivanandan, A. Director, Institute of Race Relations, described institutional racism as racism residing, overtly or covertly, within the policies, procedures, operations and cultures of institutions.
These definitions matter because they remind us, as The Commission for Racial Equality stated, that racism does not require an individual person to consciously decide to behave in a racist way.
We need to look at patterns, processes, cultures and consequences.
We need to ask the hard questions about who currently benefits from our systems:
- Who is harmed by them?
- Who is protected?
- Who is exposed?
- Who is believed?
- Who is given grace?
- And who is required to demonstrate exceptional resilience merely to remain in the room?
A lens I emphasise in our Belonging Effect DEIB training is that our focus should be on the impact instead of the intention of our words, behaviours and actions.
There is not an individual who is solely responsible for Professor Arday’s death, there are many people with his blood on their hands.
Representation Matters, but Representation Is Not Enough
Success does not insulate Black professionals from racism, hostility or harassment. In fact, sometimes increased visibility can make the scrutiny greater.
For people of colour occupying significant positions, there can be an invisible mental load attached to being highly visible and underrepresented: the fear of getting something wrong, of being judged more harshly, of being expected to represent more than yourself, or of discovering how precarious acceptance can become when something goes wrong.
That burden must be recognised because representation alone is not inclusion.
Representation without protection is not inclusion.
Visibility without psychological safety is not belonging.
And celebrating someone’s resilience while ignoring what requires them to be resilient in the first place is not progress.
Institutional Responsibility
Universities and the media need to take a long, hard look in the mirror.
It is not enough for institutions to recruit diverse talent, celebrate “firsts”, publish photographs, announce appointments and point to representation as evidence of progress.
Institutions have a responsibility to the human beings behind those achievements:
- What happens when they become vulnerable?
- Who protects them when scrutiny becomes overwhelming?
- Who notices when accountability becomes humiliation?
- Who intervenes when criticism becomes harassment?
- Who considers the cumulative impact of racism, ableism, classism and public scrutiny?
- Who safeguards the person while the process takes place?
We need to lead institutions where people do not have to become exceptionally resilient simply to survive them.
Professor Jason Arday’s death should not become another moment of collective grief followed by institutional silence.
I think it is important to remember that we can hold two things at once:
- We can believe in academic integrity and humanity.
- We can believe in accountability and proportionality.
- We can believe in scrutiny and dignity.
- We can ask legitimate questions about someone’s work without forgetting that there is a human being answering them.
And we can acknowledge that racism does not have to be the only factor operating in a situation for us to examine seriously how race shaped what happened.
My thoughts are with Professor Arday’s family, friends, colleagues and all those mourning him. I have discovered in the last 24 hrs how many of my network were connected to him and have been impacted by his death.
May he rest in peace. May we learn from this tragic loss.
Read, Reflect and Act
Read and engage with the reflections being shared across our network and wider community, including those from: Adam Vasco, Caroline Keep, Chantelle Haughton, Clive Lawrence, Domini Choudhury, Patrick Cozier, Shammi Rahman, The Black Curriculum.
Read Broken Ladders from The Runnymede Trust and consider what the evidence tells us about racism and the experiences of people of colour within UK academia.
Follow, listen to and engage with organisations campaigning for racial equity and racial justice, including: 100 Black Professors, 100 Black Headteachers, Aspiring Heads, BAMEed, DARPL, Everyday Racism, REND, The Black Curriculum and The Runnymede Trust. (Lots of these orgs are listed in our DEIB Directory).
Consider filing a complaint against the media outlets that printed endless stories about Professor Jason Arday.
Consider donating to the GoFundMe page set up by Professor Sir Patrick Vernon OBE FrHistS – ‘In Memory of Dr Jason Atta Kwei Arday: Supporting His Family’.
Most importantly, do not let this conversation disappear when the headlines do.
Racism has consequences. Institutional responsibility matters. Our shared humanity matters.
What start of term rituals and routines can educators create in our classrooms to centre student belonging?
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
Belonging is what students feel. Mattering is what students believe about their value to others.
A student can feel accepted but still wonder whether anyone would notice if they were absent.
True inclusion is when students know:
- I am welcome here.
- I am known here.
- I am valued here.
- I contribute here.
- I make a difference here.
So as we plan to set up our new classrooms and meet our new students at the start of a new academic year, what should we be intentionally planning and consciously considering to ensure that we centre belonging and mattering at the heart of our learning environments?
Theme 1: Look from the outside in
The most powerful question educators can ask at the start of the academic year is not “What do I want my classroom to be?” but “What does it feel like to be a student walking into this classroom for the very first time?”
Belonging begins with perspective-taking. For some learners, the first day is exciting. For others, it is filled with uncertainty, anxiety or the question, “Will I fit in here?” Looking from the outside in encourages educators to notice the small moments that communicate whether students are welcome, valued and safe before a single lesson begins.
Theme 2: Safety creates the conditions for growth
Students bring with them the seeds of who they are – their strengths, hopes, identities and experiences. The role of the school is to cultivate those seeds.
This means creating an environment where students feel physically, psychologically and emotionally safe. It is about setting clear expectations alongside compassionate relationships. Like a safety net beneath a tightrope, boundaries do not restrict students; they give them the confidence to explore, take risks, make mistakes and discover who they are becoming.
When students know they will be supported if they stumble, they are far more willing to participate, lead, question and learn.
Theme 3: Belonging grows through contribution
Belonging is not something educators simply give to students. It develops when students have meaningful opportunities to shape their community.
Leadership roles, student voice, peer mentoring, classroom responsibilities and collaborative decision-making all communicate a powerful message:
“You are not just part of this school – you help make this school what it is.”
Feeling heard is just as important as being listened to.
Theme 4: Students need to see themselves
Creating belonging is also about what students encounter every day through the curriculum.
The books on the shelves, the scientists, authors and historians studied, the case studies, examples, photographs and research all send messages about who matters.
When diversity is woven naturally throughout learning – not reserved for awareness days or special events – it communicates that different ethnicities, religions, family structures, genders, abilities and lived experiences are an ordinary and valued part of society.
Representation tells students: “People like me belong here too.”
Theme 5: Know the learner behind the learner
Relationships remain the foundation of belonging.
Learn names and pronounce them correctly. Show genuine curiosity about students beyond their attainment or behaviour. Ask about their interests, aspirations, cultures and lived experiences – and keep asking.
Students quickly recognise the difference between being known and simply being managed.
When educators remain interested throughout the year, they communicate one of the strongest messages of mattering:
“I see you, and you matter to me.”
Theme 6: Build belonging together
One practical way to establish this culture from day one is to create a class agreement or class contract collaboratively.
Rather than presenting a list of rules, invite students to explore questions such as:
- How do we want everyone to feel in this classroom?
- What helps us learn best?
- What behaviours create belonging?
- How will we respond when mistakes happen?
- What responsibilities do we all share?
Co-creating expectations fosters ownership, accountability and mutual respect from the outset.
Final Thoughts
Perhaps the greatest gift educators can give at the beginning of the academic year is not a perfectly organised classroom or an engaging first lesson – it is the certainty that every student belongs and matters.
Belonging does not happen by chance. Mattering is not left to luck. They are cultivated through thousands of intentional moments: a smile at the classroom door, a correctly pronounced name, a curriculum that reflects the richness of our communities, an invitation to contribute, a conversation that says: “Tell me about you.”
Students flourish in environments where they feel safe enough to be themselves, valued enough to contribute, and supported enough to grow. Every interaction, every curriculum choice, every relationship and every opportunity for student voice helps create that culture.
The question is not simply: “Do our students belong?”
The more important question is: “What are we intentionally doing every day to ensure every student knows they belong – and that they matter?”
Recommended Reading:
If you would like to explore the evidence behind belonging and mattering in greater depth, these are two excellent places to start:
- Professor Kelly-Ann Allen’s articles on school belonging
- Gordon Neufeld: The First Week of School – Creating Connections and Emotional Safety
Psychological Safety: The work starts with us…
Written by Laura McPhee
Laura McPhee is Director of Education at University Schools Trust. Prior to this, Laura was an experienced headteacher. She has a proven track record of leading transformational change management and successful school improvement journeys across London. Laura is a facilitator for the National Professional Qualification facilitator for Headship (NPQH) and a School Improvement consultant. She holds a number of trustee positions and enjoys guest lecturing for ITT courses. She is the author of 'Empowering Teachers, Improving Schools: Belonging, Psychological Safety & School Improvement' and a co-author of 'Tackling Poverty and Disadvantage in Schools.'
There is a knock at the door. It’s night- time.
The fury and ferocity which filled the house moments before has dissipated, but a heady mix of adrenaline hangs in the air.
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
The adults are talking but I can’t make out what they are saying. There is confusion. Who called the police?
‘It was me.’ I declare. Any feelings of bravery I had, have dissolved and standing in my pyjamas at the top of the stairs.
I feel small. Insignificant.
From the policemen that evening, and so many evenings that followed, to the well- intentioned social worker, the observant teacher and the enquiring neighbour… my world was filled with safe adults that could have helped.
So why didn’t I speak up?
Shame is a powerful driver. No one needs to tell children not to tell. It’s instinct. You are after all ‘different’. From the teacher who enquires about a bruise in assembly to the social worker dropping presents off at Christmas; it’s a reminder that something happened that shouldn’t have.
Internalised shame is your secret, buried but not forgotten; your shadow that follows you into adulthood.
And it really does follow…
Attachment theory, pioneered by John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth reveals that our early bonds with care givers create a blueprint for all adult relationships, including those at work.
These early ‘imprints’ fundamentally shape how we handle feedback, navigate conflict and delegate responsibility.
As a sector we’re expert at codifying leadership. Implementing a new strategy? No problem, here’s some research that can help. Experiencing a new challenge? Please refer to this policy. Tackling a task for the first time? Attend this training.
There’s a place for policies, systems and processes. They bring equity, clarity and consistency. But we can’t ‘systemise’ people. And therein lies the challenge. We are wonderfully flawed humans, who bring not just our professional selves, but our lived experiences to work too.
Now I’m not suggesting for a moment, that we psychoanalyse each other, or that the work- place is the best setting to do that. But if school leaders and educators are responsible for creating spaces that are safe, inclusive and rooted in a culture of psychological safety; perhaps this work starts with us?
Let’s explore three simple examples:
- The anxious achiever (pre-occupied attachment style):
These are often leaders known for their precision and attention to detail, their tireless work ethic and ability to manage high stakes situations. All admirable qualities. But behind closed doors they might be struggling or exhausted. Obsessing over feedback and ruminating and replaying conversations. Linking their self – worth to professional outcomes.
- The Fearful Compassionate leader (fearful – avoidant attachment)
These leaders may be fiercely passionate about their cause. They’re empathetic and deeply committed. However, they oscillate between intensely overworking to the point of almost burn out, then subsequently need to withdraw.
- The Avoidant Powerhouse (avoidant/dismissive attachment style)
These are successful leaders, with a proven track record. They are decisive and well- respected but keep everyone at arm’s length. They see vulnerability as a weakness and dismiss emotional conversations as a distraction and struggle to connect with colleagues on a personal level.
Any of these starting to sound familiar yet?
Attachment styles:
- Secure = low anxiety / low avoidance
- Anxious (preoccupied) = low avoidance/ high anxiety
- Avoidant (dismissive) = low anxiety /high avoidance
- Fearful (disorganised) = high anxiety /high avoidance
Of course, real life is much more nuanced than this, and there are many more ways attachment styles can show up in our professional lives.
For a long time, I was firmly rooted in ‘The avoidant powerhouse’, with a dash of ‘anxious achiever’ on the side.
I’d been working as a senior leader in a school in south London. It was my first real experience of school improvement. I was lucky enough to work with an exceptional headteacher, and the school had moved from satisfactory to outstanding. We were in an area of high deprivation and one of the highest crime wards in Europe. This was challenging work, but I loved it. I adored working with my headteacher, yet on our final day together she told me, ‘You know Laura, after four years working together, I really don’t know the first thing about you.’
I remember the relief washing over me. Mission accomplished, I thought. I had survived my time there without anyone needing to know or understand me. The trouble with this of course, is that I wasn’t building relationships either.
Perhaps this is no surprise. There had been lots to celebrate growing up. But my home was also unsafe. Unpredictable.
As Dr. Julian Ford notes emotional detachment often stems from early experiences when vulnerability feels unsafe, this can, if we’re not careful lead to a leadership style that prioritizes control over connection.
Superficially I had strong qualities, many of which were rewarded by the sector. But did this style of leadership help my colleagues as much as I thought it did?
Of course not.
The good news is that our attachment patterns can shift with awareness and intentional work. Dr. Norman Doidge’s work on plasticity reminds us that our brains are remarkable; we can learn new pathways, new patterns of behaviour and rewire. It’s our internal roadmap for transformation.
Whether we’re ready or not to acknowledge these parts of ourselves, they’ll find a way to show up. Slowly and over time, I was able to see how a different approach might be better for the team, and better for me. With the support of deeply reflective leaders, wonderful colleagues (and some of my favourite humans at outside of work), things started to change.
Now I’ve got plenty more work to do and lots to learn. But am I more patient leader? Yes. A more empathetic leader? Undoubtedly. I’d even go so far as to say, I’m gone from trying to ‘hide in plain sight’ to recognising that my cumulative experiences are, in fact…my superpower. I suspect this is how I’ve found myself becoming such an advocate for psychological safety, for pupils, for staff and for the wider community.
All of which makes me reflect deeply on how we engage with pupils who have experienced ‘adverse childhood experiences’, the fundamental importance of a strength-based approach and the profound impact of co -production.
That said, we would do well to remember that psychological safety is not just a ‘nice to have’ or some hippy ideal; research indicates it is one of the most consistent indicators of high performance across industries.
Professor of leadership and management Amy Edmonson emphasizes the importance of teams feeling ‘safe to take interpersonal risks.’ Naturally this requires time, trust and cultural humility. There are no short cuts here, we need to be prepared to relinquish power and privilege.
The reward? Consciously feeling able to be vulnerable with colleagues. Who wouldn’t want that?
“The function of freedom is to free someone else.” –Toni Morrison