Jason Arday: ‘Things Can Only Get Better’

When I searched for “Jason Arday” on Youtube for videos over 20 minutes, this is the order I found today (except for the first one, which grabbed my attention for the Seven Up claim).

‘Inspiration and Courage : Jason Arday in Conversation with Rajani Naidoo (Oct. 17, 2022)’

The YT channel is the “University of Bath Race Equality Taskforce.”

Naidoo introduces him as Professor of Sociology of Education at Glasgow, which he became in 2021 and left for Cambridge in March 2023. Black History Month in Britain is October. He says his PhD came in 2015, that he started this work “seven years ago,” and that “seven years ago I had a weekend job at Sainsbury’s.”

The claims, with timestamps.

4:01 — He gives the Black professoriate figure as roughly 160 out of 24,000, about one percent. That one is close to the HESA numbers of the period and checks out.

4:50 — Diagnosed with Asperger’s and global developmental delay just after turning three. Note Asperger’s rather than autism. Under the diagnostic criteria then in use, Asperger’s specifically required no clinically significant language delay, which sits badly beside signing until eleven. Other tellings say autism. Worth logging as drift across versions rather than as an impossibility.

5:11 — Signed until eleven, learned to read and write just after turning eighteen.

5:19 — The Seven Up claim, and it is not a slip. He says the programme no longer exists, names it, then supplies the format correctly: they follow you over the duration of your life, at seven, fourteen, twenty-one. He adds that he was pulled out of the project at fourteen. He was born in 1985. The cohort was born around 1957. And the series was still running when he said this.

6:08 — Football at a good level for a long time, out of an academy system, then playing “some professionally.”

6:32 — Snooker from age ten to a really good standard, and “I did try and enter the professional tour.”

7:09 — All of his schooling in a special needs school, alongside pupils with severe learning difficulties and physical disabilities, and no formal schooling in a mainstream school at any point.

9:38 — The police stop at fourteen, in 1999, with three white friends, who then asked him what he had done.

10:55 — Stopped by police every year for twenty or twenty-one years in a row, the run broken only by lockdown.

15:34 — He can count on three fingers the number of times he has been asked to talk about his own journey.

16:08 — His mother telling him daily that he would do something nobody had ever done and that people would be in awe.

17:28 — Sandro Sandri, his college tutor, met at eighteen, approached by his mother because he had no qualifications.

19:13 — The professional prediction was that he would work one day a week part-time and live in shared housing with other autistic people.

22:45 — An Enya album called A Sky Full of Stars. Enya has no such album. The title belongs to a Coldplay single.

24:47 — Paul Weller’s Stanley Road, the tailoring obsession, and naming his daughter Taylor. 25:41 — Competently making clothes by fifteen.

27:05 — Every academic title he has written contains a song lyric, and it took five years for anyone to notice.

30:11 — PhD in 2015. 30:34 — A master’s in psychodynamic practice at Birkbeck, and “I became a qualified counselor.”

32:26 — The David Harewood sedation story. He gives the name as David Hayward, the documentary as “Me and My Psychosis” on BBC One. It is Psychosis and Me, BBC Two, 2019. The underlying account is real and in Harewood’s book.

34:08 — Roughly half the UK student population, near a million people, is from a Black or minority ethnic background, and two-thirds of that half were going on to postgraduate study. The second figure is not a real number and is not close to one.

35:38 — The origin of “No One Can See Me Cry,” from the REM lyric.

36:03 — A research participant tells him she has to apply her makeup twice, and frames it by saying she knows he likes music, then names the REM song, and describes crying in a cubicle for forty minutes a day.

37:25 — Practical solutions embedded with over seventy universities in three and a half years.

1:06:06 — He has interviewed and sat with a lot of right-wing people and heard their extremist views on racial superiority, and found they valued being listened to.

1:16:44 — Nelson Mandela University and André Keet’s centre; Ohio State’s EDI office, first known to him in 2015.

1:21:20 — Seven years earlier he had a weekend job at Sainsbury’s.

The strongest thing in the transcript is the seven minutes from 4:50 to 7:47, where he describes two incompatible childhoods without appearing to notice. Nonverbal until eleven, illiterate until eighteen, educated entirely in a special school among severely disabled peers. And in the same breath: academy football then semi-professional play, snooker to near-professional standard with an attempt at the pro tour, competent garment construction at fifteen, and selection for a longitudinal documentary project. Any one of these is possible. Together they are two lives.

Snooker matters more than it looks. Entering the professional tour is not a mood. It requires governing-body membership, entry fees, forms. Academy football requires registration and contracts. Both are administratively documented worlds, and both are checkable by anyone who cared to.

The item with real professional consequence is 36:03. A research participant who knows the interviewer’s musical taste, volunteers an REM lyric unprompted, and thereby supplies the title of the resulting paper. Set that beside the Times finding that quotations recur across his papers attributed to different people, and that participant descriptions shift between articles, and it stops being a charming anecdote about method.

The self-deprecation at 15:34 and 21:11. He says he is never asked about himself and that there is nothing unique about his journey, inside a recorded, publicised event devoted entirely to his journey. Performed reluctance licenses an eighty-minute self-narration and pre-empts the question of why it is being told.

And the room behaves exactly as the format requires. A vice-president and UNESCO chair opens by calling his journey truly inspiring, closes by thanking him for his honesty and courage, and frames every question as an invitation to narrate. She then says the recording will be sent to students and to colleagues who could not attend. The certification is the event.

The small errors. A misnamed Enya album, a misnamed documentary on the wrong channel, a statistic that is not a number. Each is nothing. What they share is that all of them are the kind of detail a speaker supplies to make a story feel lived, and none of them survives thirty seconds of checking.

‘Jason Arday – Things Can Only Get Better’

Jan 9, 2023: Part of the SEB OED Symposium event: “Decolonising and diversifying biosciences education”

The timestamps.

0:20 — He is always asked whether he has slides, and never does.

0:32 — “In a previous life I was a PE teacher,” garbled by the captions. The lesson plan that survives until after lunch and then has to be abandoned.

1:02 — He is invited to speak at places and has no idea who he will be talking to, so he reads the room and responds to it.

1:24 — “A lot of it’s kind of running through thoughts, but hopefully it’ll correlate and make some sort of coherent sense.”

1:37 — The hook: D:Ream, “Things Can Only Get Better,” New Labour. Another song-lyric title, consistent with his claim at Bath that every piece he writes carries one.

2:24 — Credits to figures in widening PhD access and to the Broken Pipeline report, which he says produced an eight-million-pound funding competition. The names are mangled by the captions. The report is real: Leading Routes, 2019, on Black British students and research council funding, and it did move money.

2:54 — Decolonising is a fad, franchised and well packaged.

3:15 — Pre-George Floyd and post-George Floyd, and the question of what institutions were doing before.

5:48 — “I am yet to meet a person who can define to me what decolonising means.”

6:08 — Most decolonising processes of the past two or three years have caused more harm to Black and minority staff, who mobilise them at cost to themselves and without recognition.

8:05 — “Something as hollow as let’s change the reading list.”

8:57 — Racism sat on the political periphery for his 37 years and occupied the political centre for fifteen to eighteen months.

9:37 — Disposable empathy.

10:04 — The Brixton crush as the illustration.

15:05 — Tacit learning, breathing as the model, and the wish that anti-colonial thinking become “a reflex to a reflex.”

16:07 — “I include myself in that as well. I’m not above that in any way.” He has only understood this over the last three years.

17:00 — His mother again, saying it was common sense.

18:37 — “The victory is the universities’ to share, but is ours to own when we fail.” The best-made sentence in the talk.

20:11 — The live-television delay metaphor, almost word for word from the Bath conversation.

21:22 — Advancements amount to under ten percent, and people of colour are suffering more than five years ago because racism has grown more sophisticated.

22:16 — Netball. You pivot but you cannot move from the spot.

22:52 — Malcolm X on racism as a Cadillac with a new model every year. That is a real Malcolm X line.

26:43 — “I don’t have all the answers, I definitely don’t know anything.” Then: he is positioned as an expert and always tells people he is not one.

27:48 — Tennis. Hitting for the lines rather than the middle of the court.

28:28 — Feet first, head second. Culture before strategy. Repeated from Bath.

30:00 — Seven years ago he was stacking shelves at Sainsbury’s on a night shift.

30:11 — The venue will be his home from March. The talk was arranged six months earlier, before he knew.

31:57 — bell hooks as his heroine. Solidarity, love, pedagogy for empowerment.

33:23 — His father: the only concept that is colourblind is individualism.

34:49 — The master’s tools. People who have them are more resourceful than anyone realises, because they have always been in a state of survival.

42:16 — A questioner from St George’s asks how to distinguish what to discard from what colonialism produced that works, and names the scientific method.

42:48 — “The good parts of colonising is almost like someone asking me what are the good parts of gentrification. So my answer to that would be nothing.”

44:20 — He then shifts to a better position: the objection is to treating Western knowledge as the axis, and he gives the dermatological example of disease signs presenting differently on darker skin. That example is sound and well documented.

The live-television delay, feet first and head second, the mother supplying the insight, the Sainsbury’s line, all appear in both talks. Fourteen months apart, and in both the Sainsbury’s job is “seven years ago.” A phrase that does not move with the calendar is a set piece rather than a memory. Every professional speaker has an act. It matters here only because the talks are also the source documents from which citations and biographies were later written.

He opens by describing, without apparently noticing, the exact conditions that make the format unauditable. No slides. No knowledge of who is in the room. Thoughts running through, hopefully coherent. That is three sentences establishing that nothing said in the next half hour will exist in a checkable form, delivered as charm.

The disclaimers do heavy defensive work. He does not know anything. He is not an expert whatever anyone says. He includes himself among those who have not understood. He is not claiming his conception is correct. This is genuinely disarming and probably sincere. It also makes challenge socially impossible. You cannot press a man who has just told you he knows nothing, and combined with the racism frame the position is close to unassailable: press the expert and you are a bully, press the humble man and you are a bully.

The decolonising critique is the strongest material in either transcript. Nobody can define the term. Changing a reading list is hollow. The interventions harm the people who deliver them. The performance is put on Twitter while the people inside say it is going badly. The victory belongs to the university and the failure to them. That is sharper than most of what gets published in his field, and it is an attack on the industry he was the star of. It is also, and both things are true, a status move. Everyone else is doing the fashionable thing wrong, and he sees the deeper prior step they have skipped. That is the same manoeuvre as the Edinburgh plenary three years later, where the field is engaged in something shallow and he is above it.

The weakest moment is 42:48, and the room let it go. A biologist asks a serious question about inheriting the scientific method, and the first answer is that colonialism produced nothing good, by analogy with gentrification. He recovers well ninety seconds later. But the recovery is a different answer to a different question, and in a symposium on decolonising bioscience education, addressed to experimental biologists, nobody said so.

In the week before Christmas 2022 he tells a public audience that Cambridge will be his home from March. The university announced it on February 22, 2023.

‘Ep 14 – The Life of Dr. Jason Arday / 5 Benefits of getting an Early Autism Diagnosis’ (Mar. 3, 2023)

The first eight and a half minutes are Arday, from a talk the host is replaying. The remaining forty-eight are the reception, live, from a mother of autistic children in front of an audience of the same.

Streamed March 3, 2023, ten days after the Cambridge announcement.

The Arday clip, 1:39 to 8:38

2:31 — Diagnosed at three with autism spectrum disorder.

2:39 — The educational psychologist tells his mother the diagnosis is “a hybrid of autism called global development delay and Asperger’s syndrome.”

2:48 — “He’s partially deaf in one ear. You’re going to have to teach him to sign.”

2:55 — The marathon will recur as a metaphor. His mother’s first test of endurance.

3:11 — Two boys thirteen months apart, his brother Joseph and himself, both autistic.

3:36 — Seven years, three times a week, speech therapy. Nothing improving, “not one iota.”

4:10 — The psychologists’ verdict: he will struggle to survive in the real world.

4:36 — “I love repetition, I’m autistic.” He tells the same stories repeatedly and people notice.

4:53 to 5:35 — The scene. Everyone’s backs turned. He takes his hearing aid out of his ear. At eleven he says his first word, hello. His mother asks him to say it again. He does.

6:05 — Eighteen, just learned to read and write, reading age of eight.

6:26 — Sandro Sandri, “an eccentric Brazilian Italian.”

6:44 — What he wants: to work in a supermarket to support his family.

7:00 — “I think we could get to university in two years. We could take on the world and win.”

7:51 — At university with the reading age of a twelve-year-old.

7:59 — At twenty-one he learns he is to become a father.

8:22 — Holding Taylor for the first time. “She was in my hand.”

The reception, 8:38 onward

8:38 to 10:56 — The host: he brings hope, she was moved to tears, this is the fear of every parent of an autistic child, they said there is nothing for this boy, he beat the odds. “There is hope” eight times in ninety seconds.

12:17 — A caller last week whose son was nonverbal until eleven and became a surgeon.

37:33 — Terry calls in. She runs a community of parents of neurodivergent children.

47:23 — The host draws the lesson: early diagnosis, early intervention, support system.

51:50 — “Many people like Dr Jason Arday, they got their diagnosis, everybody knew what we were dealing with, so we got him into therapy.” She narrates his childhood in the first person plural, as though she had been there.

52:56 — She will post links to his NBC and CBS interviews in the comments.

53:27 — How a child turns out depends on how early the parents intervene, “and that is the truth.”

53:42 — Parents who do not do this: “I am so sorry for the future of that kid.”

At Bath he said Asperger’s and global developmental delay. Here the psychologist supposedly said the diagnosis was a hybrid of autism called global development delay and Asperger’s syndrome. No clinician says that. Global developmental delay is a placeholder for young children whose cause is not yet established, and Asperger’s under the criteria then in use required no significant language delay. The sentence is put in a named professional’s mouth as direct speech.

The hearing aid is new and it is load-bearing. Partially deaf in one ear, taught to sign. Then, in the scene, he removes the hearing aid and speaks. That is a good piece of staging. It also raises the question of why signing rather than hearing aids and speech was the route, and nothing in seven years of three-times-weekly therapy shifted anything until the moment everyone’s back was turned.

His brother is named as autistic here. At Bath he described a younger brother who is lead mental health nurse at Imperial College Hospital.

And at 4:36 he says something that would be a gift to a hostile reader: he loves repetition, tells the same stories many times, and people notice. He offers it as an autistic trait. It is also an accurate description of a keynote repertoire.

The reception is the finding.

The Bath audience was academics who would nod and move on. The SEB audience were biologists. This audience is parents deciding, right now, whether to seek a diagnosis for a child who does not speak. The host is one of them. She cries. She takes calls. And she converts a biography into a causal claim: he got an early diagnosis, therefore therapy, therefore Cambridge, therefore your child’s outcome depends on what you do this week.

At 51:50 she says “we got him into therapy.” The story has become common property, and she is inside it.

Nothing in that is her fault. She is doing what the story was built to make people do. But it is the answer to the question the long essay asks about who bears the cost of a public biography. Not Cambridge, which has other things to point at. A woman in a studio telling a parent that if she hides her child she should be sorry for that child’s future.

The host repeatedly calls him Dr Jason Arday and lists two masters, a PhD, Cambridge. She is working entirely from the video and from NBC and CBS. The chain here has no institution in it at all. It runs television, to Instagram, to a friend named Tolu who sent it on, to this broadcast, to the parents watching. Four hops from a keynote to a mother’s decision, and no verification point anywhere along it.

Channel 4 News: ‘Cambridge’s youngest Black professor, Jason Arday on Autism, racism, and learning to read at 18’ (Sep. 22, 2023)

This is the highest-status venue in the set so far and the only interviewer who pushes at all. Krishnan Guru-Murthy, Channel 4 News, September 22, 2023, six months after the Cambridge appointment.

Timestamps

1:17 — Guru-Murthy’s framing: diagnosed at three, didn’t speak a word until eleven, experts told his mother he would struggle with ordinary life.

1:54 — The paralysis of speech gave him the ability to observe human interaction.

2:19 — “Having in some respects been dumb as a child in a literal sense, as an adult now I speak to people for a living.”

3:05 — The diagnosis, and this is the most careful version he gives anywhere. “In old money I was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome, which is commonly now referred to as autism.” Plus global development delay just before three, which he glosses as a cognitive and motor skills delay meaning his brain processed information very slowly.

3:44 — Learned to read at eighteen, just turned eighteen.

4:03 — His mother pointing to non-verbal cues, hugs, handshakes, smiles, waves.

5:41 — Guru-Murthy asks what actually happens to enable speech. “I’d be lying if I said I did.”

6:24 — Guru-Murthy asks whether he reached university at the same time as everyone else. He went at twenty, with the reading age of a nine-year-old.

7:17 — Muhammad Ali on will versus skill. “I don’t have any skill, but what I do have is an indomitable will.”

8:14 — Purpose. His mother took him to a homeless shelter at eighteen, at Christmas.

8:21 — The professor at the shelter. Wife and children killed in a road accident, depression, destitution, “certain levers,” lost connection with reality. The speech he attributes to him runs several sentences.

9:30 — “The most important four hours of my life.”

10:04 — Guru-Murthy raises the obsessive trait. Arday calls it a myth crystallised by Rain Man.

10:52 — And again on empathy, which he calls a myth rather than a stereotype, since “a stereotype is usually based on truth.”

15:00 — The 2012 list of goals written while still teaching PE, one of which was to work at Oxford or Cambridge.

15:40 — “There are a lot of exceptional academics out there, particularly black and ethnic minority academics, who are if not just as deserving possibly more deserving.” Then luck, and Al Pacino in Any Given Sunday.

16:48 — Over seventy percent of the British population consider themselves working class.

19:11 — The astrophysicist story, which the producers used as the cold open. A pupil he taught who wanted to be an astrophysicist and was steered toward sport.

24:25 — Guru-Murthy asks how meritocratic Cambridge is now.

25:29 — Meritocracy is a double-edged sword that does not work in favour of the disadvantaged.

26:57 — 162 Black professors in the UK, just under sixty of them women.

29:01 — If he could change the world: thread and a needle, and interweave love into society.

30:59 — “You’re talking to a hippie.”

At Bath in 2021 he said the reading age at university was twelve. Here it is nine. At Bath he was eighteen when he learned to read; the entry point to university at twenty is new and, given a two-year college course from eighteen, arithmetically consistent. In the TEDx clip the reading age at eighteen was eight and at university twelve. So the numbers move both up and down across tellings rather than in one direction, which reads more like a man reaching for an illustrative figure than like a rehearsed script.

The diagnosis account is the most defensible version he gives. Asperger’s in old money, now folded into autism, plus global developmental delay. That is roughly how the DSM-5 change is usually described in public. It is much better than the TEDx version, where a named educational psychologist supposedly said the diagnosis was “a hybrid of autism called global development delay and Asperger’s syndrome.” Same underlying claim, one version clinically plausible and one not, delivered to a broadcaster who might have a producer checking and to a room that would not.

At 5:41 he does the thing that is to his credit throughout these transcripts. Asked what mechanism unlocked speech, he says he would be lying if he said he knew. He does not manufacture. He does it again at 10:04, declining an easy autistic-savant framing that would have flattered him.

The homeless shelter. Here the origin is at eighteen, at Christmas, and his mother takes him. The JustGiving page from 2010 says a visit to a homeless shelter at seventeen inspired him. The 2021 TEDx said eighteen. The Anglia Ruskin citation says 2003, aged eighteen. So the age has moved and settled. And the professor’s speech, several sentences of direct quotation from a man met once for four hours a quarter century ago, is the same compositional habit as the makeup anecdote at Bath and the psychologist’s line in the TEDx clip. Long verbatim speech attributed to a person the audience cannot reach.

The astrophysicist story is offered as something that happened in his own classroom, and the producers put it at the head of the film. It is a teacher’s anecdote, unfalsifiable, and it now carries a Channel 4 imprimatur.

The meritocracy exchange is the one that will age worst. Guru-Murthy asks a direct question. Arday’s answer is that people can do everything right and be stopped by structural inequality, and that many are more deserving than he is. Read in 2023 that is modesty. Read after the plagiarism findings it reads differently, and it is worth noting that he volunteered the more-deserving line unprompted at 15:40 as well.

The broader point across all four transcripts is now clear. The account he gives varies by room. To a national broadcaster the clinical claims are careful and hedged, the numbers are given with “I’d be lying if I said I knew,” and the myths are declined. To a charity audience the psychologist speaks in quotation marks, the hearing aid comes out at the crucial moment, and the scene has staging. Nobody in any of the four rooms asked a follow-up question about a single verifiable fact, and Guru-Murthy came closest by simply asking when he got to university.

‘Pushing back Against the Zeitgeist with Dr. Chantelle Jessica Lewis and Jason Arday’ (Sep. 22, 2025)

1:46 — Lewis: the book came out last week, this is the first time they have talked about it.

2:31 — The thesis. Productivity, and how disabling notions of productivity are.

2:54 — By proxy of being alive we all deserve love.

4:41 — Arday’s why, which he calls selfish. He wanted to work with Lewis. He calls her the best operator in academia, the person he looks up to most, “academically the best of our generation.”

7:07 — “It’s easier for Chantelle and I not to put our head above the parapet as two black academics, because that is actually what the culture does. It aims to subsume people and make them small.” Doing the book leaves them “wide open to a critique that has become part of the zeitgeist.”

8:35 — The host asks him to define zeitgeist. “I could be wrong, and Chantelle can help me with this.”

9:32 — Lewis on the autism-cause announcement, and neurodivergence entering the zeitgeist alongside eugenics and population control.

11:50 — Lewis is nervous to reread parts of the book.

14:19 — The workplace argument. Neurodivergent people positioned as superhumans who produce more for capitalism.

15:22 — Lewis loses her thread and calls it a classic ADHD moment. 17:19 — She retrieves it and adds that neurodivergent people are over-represented in the arms trade.

16:14 — Arday: people will withdraw from this work. Then, at 16:42, “I think what’s happening now is almost like a modern day lynching.” He describes the risk of being publicly and professionally dissected and discredited, and says people will choose their wellbeing.

18:24 — Lewis: fewer than a handful of Black people from the UK have ever published on this, and they may be the only ones.

20:47 — Arday’s allyship answer. Compassion, and a quote he was once told: sometimes when people least deserve it is when they deserve the most compassion.

24:37 — The eleven-point manifesto, and the proposal to abolish all exams and all metricised education.

25:28 — Lewis: they both ended up working at Oxford and Cambridge, and they are critical of those elitist structures.

27:48 — Asked for a favourite manifesto point, Arday declines to pick one, twice, at some length.

30:27 — Asked where to follow his work: “I don’t have anything. I never have.”

The lynching line at 16:42 is the item. Ten months before the allegations broke publicly, and in the same month a publication with a sixty-three page dossier was silenced by his lawyers, he tells an American podcast that public discrediting of Black academics amounts to a modern-day lynching. He frames it as prophecy about others. The Edinburgh plenary in April 2026 is the same frame with more detail.

He is deferential throughout, defers to Lewis on definitions, calls her the best of their generation, and describes his own motive as selfish. Compare the Bath and SEB talks, where he is the authority in the room.

At 27:48 the host asks a soft question and he produces about ninety seconds without answering it. That is the only stretch across all five transcripts where he sounds like a man filling time.

He says at 30:35 that he has no online presence and never has. And the co-authored book with Lewis, published by Princeton, gives him a second publication in the neurodiversity space alongside the memoir. The host mistakenly calls it the Princeton Review, and nobody corrects her.

‘Black History Month Lecture: Academia is a Crossfire Hurricane’ (Oct. 27, 2021)

Kellogg College, Oxford, delivered while he was at Durham.

Timestamps

0:00 to 6:18 — Introductions. Shreya Atrey and the historian Yasmin Khan. Khan notes he was a consultant to Oxford’s Race Equality Task Force, whose consultation launched that morning.

6:38 — The Kellogg cereal joke, then Wikipedia to check the founding date.

7:17 — “I don’t really have anything planned.” Authenticity is hard when you plan things.

7:41 — The title from the Rolling Stones, “I was born in a crossfire hurricane.” Another song-lyric title.

9:14 — Seven years ago: a lecturer teaching physical education, a Saturday job at Sainsbury’s, and a Sunday job cleaning toilets at major London stadiums. The cleaning job appears only here.

10:48 — 23,000 professors in the UK, 15,500 white male, 5,500 white female, 38 Black women as of two weeks ago.

13:56 — “The first thing you need to learn is how to suffer.”

15:32 — The lecture-room story from the previous day. Asked if he is in the right place, then whether he is a PGR student, then asked to fix a machine. He reveals he is the deputy executive dean. A hundred students witness it.

20:49 — He has advised parliamentarians for six or seven years.

22:13 — Durham’s faculty: just over 400 staff, two Black people until recently, one has left, and the other is Professor Carlene Firmin. Then him.

24:47 — New Labour, 1997 to 2001, made his university education possible. Without it, “I thousand percent wouldn’t be stood here now.”

26:50 — His father, described here as “a straight talking South African,” on individualism as the only colourblind concept.

28:56 — The studentship story. He did a PhD in 2015. Two days after finishing, someone asked why he had not taken a studentship. He did not know what one was. He asked other Black aspiring academics and none of them had heard of one either.

31:07 — He has interviewed over 500 academics of colour in five years.

31:52 — The REM makeup anecdote, told at greater length than at Bath, with the lyric quoted back and forth.

35:49 — Meritocracy: great in theory, “in practice it’s cobblers.”

37:02 — The “Dr Gifty” story. A lecturer, name withheld, tells him at 22 that he is scraping through university and should not think that far ahead. He goes back days later and says he disagrees.

39:26 — The viva “going horribly wrong,” and finding a way to “creep over the line.”

40:04 — The Glasgow chair, announced that day. The interview in July, the week’s wait, the Zoom call, bursting into tears.

47:01 to 50:25 — Atrey’s question on authenticity, and his answer about privilege and gender.

1:03:53 — The admission.

He says, unprompted, in a Q&A at Oxford, about his own doctorate: “My PhD is not an original contribution to knowledge, but I did it because my supervisor told me if you do that you’ll pass. And then it’s like, I’ve not published anything from it, I don’t think anyone’s ever read it. It’s on reflective practice.”

And at 1:04:30 he adds that he had wanted to study the educational experiences of minority ethnic or migrant children settling in the UK, and was told that was a bad idea.

1:11:36 onward — Class and race, Durham students from the north-east staying local, the 23-month contract gap, gender pay disparities in the professoriate.

The 1:03:53 passage is the most important thing in any of these six transcripts, and it was said in public four and a half years before Cofnas published.

He describes a thesis on reflective practice, which he says makes no original contribution, which nobody has read, from which nothing was published, written the way his supervisor told him to write it in order to pass. Zwozdiak-Myers’s 2009 Brunel thesis, the one the allegations concern, is on reflective practice. He is complaining about a supervisory relationship that produced a compliant and unread document. But he is describing the thesis in terms that fit the later allegations, and he is describing it to a room at Oxford, on camera, on a university channel.

Nobody in that room asked a follow-up.

Set it against what the Liverpool John Moores panel accepted in March 2026: a depleted supervisory team, one formal supervision, the rest by phone and text. He was saying a version of this in 2021, before there was anything to defend.

‘Decolonising HE: Doing the ‘work’ as a person of colour’ (Apr. 3, 2020)

0:52 — He introduces himself as an assistant professor in sociology at Durham. No deputy dean title, no visiting chairs, no list.

6:49 — The PE teacher origin.

7:43 — The throwing-off-the-scent story. Here the pupil wants to be a concert pianist. In 2021 at Kellogg and in 2023 on Channel 4 the same pupil wants to be an astrophysicist. And here he says he observed another teacher say it. On Channel 4 it reads as his own classroom.

8:31 — “I always felt a lot of students I came across, if not all of them, had a lot more potential than I did and a lot better than I was, and I fought with the minimal potential I had.”

12:00 — Putting his head above the parapet “has cost me jobs in higher education.”

22:15 — He says at least once a day he wonders whether he would have entered this line of work knowing what he knows now, and that he definitely would not have.

27:41 — The exit plan. His daughter will be eighteen in five years, and he will be forty or nearly forty, and that would be a good time to knock it on the head and step aside for a new generation.

29:01 — “There’s a fine line between doing the best you can and exploiting the narrative.” People profit from race work in ways he thinks are wrong.

31:07 — He says he has interviewed over 400 academics and students in maybe six years. At Kellogg eighteen months later the figure is over 500 in five years.

1:05:51 — Asked what surprised him most about academia. The answer runs ten minutes and is the core of the episode.

1:06:53 — Relationships become transactional. People deal with you because they want something.

1:07:46 — The biggest trauma: prominent academics who talk well about equality with “a massive disconnect between their actions and their words.”

1:08:27 — “The business of academia.” You realise how powerful it is to say things in a particular way, and the reputational and fiscal rewards for it. “It’s become the gig economy.”

1:10:09 — “Race is big business right now, and a lot of people profiting from that plight.” Then: there comes a time when you can’t continue to profit from that if things are not changing, and morally he thinks that is wrong, and so you vacate the space.

1:12:00 — “Anyone can occupy a platform and be antagonistic and say all these things. Get your own house in order… before you start telling other people what to do.”

1:12:38 — “It’s easier to say things but it’s hard to actually put them into action.”

1:13:02 — In academia many people are bereft of morals and ethics.

1:14:40 — Meena names him publicly as the first Black academic she saw give a keynote who credited the women who paved the way.

1:15:21 — His answer is that he has profited from the labour, blood, sweat and tears of women of colour to end up in that position, and there are times he stood there and took a bit of shine while being complicit.

1:19:03 — Academia is people telling people how good they are, matched by people telling them how good they are, so nobody ever engages in honesty.

1:27:19 — Self-care. He gives none. He buys boxes of toiletries, clothes and shoes plus enough money for three nights in a shelter, and goes around London at night distributing them, targeting South, then East, then West over six months.

1:29:03 — Twelve years of working nine to five, then being a parent and husband, then working midnight to seven, and only stopping in September when he got the Durham job.

1:29:31 — “I’m not on social media and I never have been.”

The passage from 1:08:27 to 1:12:38 is extraordinary read from 2026. He describes with evident disgust a business in which reputational and fiscal rewards flow to people who can say the right things in the right way, whose actions do not match their words, who profit from a plight while nothing changes, who occupy platforms and tell others what to do without having done it, and who are surrounded by people telling them how good they are so that honesty never occurs. He says a man in that position should vacate the space.

He understood the machine.

The exit plan at 27:41. In April 2020 he says he will be out by around forty, when his daughter turns eighteen. He turned forty in 2025. Instead of leaving he took a Cambridge chair, a memoir contract, and a speaking career.

The charity account is the most specific he gives anywhere. Boxes of goods, three nights in a shelter, driving round London at night. No total, no eighty charities, no millions. That is what the activity sounds like when it is being described rather than cited.

And the astrophysicist. Here the pupil wanted to be a concert pianist and he watched another teacher say it during an observation. By 2021 it is an astrophysicist and by 2023 it is his own encounter, opening a Channel 4 film. It is exactly how an anecdote firms up over three years.

‘Challenges & Changes: Dr Jason Arday’ (Mar. 25, 2021)

Oxford Physics, hosted by Alex Ramadan.

2:17 — Opens on Sarah Everard and vigilance.

3:47 — The census figures. Fourteen percent BAME, four percent Black.

4:26 — Just over half of a million students are from Black and minority ethnic backgrounds, two-thirds of that half going on to postgraduate study.

4:45 — 30,000 PhD studentships awarded in 2018/19, only 30 to Black Caribbean students. He credits the Leading Routes research led by Paulette Williams with Chantelle Lewis and Tsuki Bath, and says he was fortunate to be part of it.

5:58 — 20,000 professors in the UK. 15,500 white male, 4,500 white female, 35 Black women, 90 Black men.

7:04 — The BBC study he says he did in 2018 on pay differentials by ethnicity in the Russell Group. £52,000 average for white academics, £38,000 for Black, £32,000 for Arab.

9:06 — Meghan Markle, and a white middle-class man denying a woman of colour’s account of racism.

11:35 — “In my 35 years of life” nobody has ever said they want to encounter racism.

13:25 — Over 400 people of colour interviewed over five years.

17:05 — The makeup anecdote, third telling. Here the participant has a PhD in physics at a well-respected university, told to a physics department. Crying two or three times a week for seven years. Left the academy. Aged 31.

25:44 — The exit plan again: in a couple of years, four years, his daughter will be eighteen and he will call it a day.

28:10 — Payment for EDI work. Universities “are taking liberties.”

32:48 — Athena SWAN has benefited white middle-class women, not white working-class women and not women of colour.

34:11 — The three zones: fear, comfort, understanding and implementation.

36:18 — “The murder of George Clooney,” a transcription error for George Floyd, and the four-seasons allyship image.

45:26 — Affirmative action. “If there is one thing I would bring into the UK it would be affirmative action.” He calls this the most arrogant thing he has ever said.

50:01 — BAME as a category, and the differentials inside it.

The makeup anecdote is now documented three times in eighteen months, and the participant changes to match the room. At Oxford Physics she has a PhD in physics, is 31, has left academia, and cried two or three times a week for seven years. At Kellogg in October 2021 and at Bath she is unspecified and the crying is daily, half an hour at a time, in a passage otherwise nearly identical: he loves music, she knows he likes REM, she names “Imitation of Life,” he quotes the line back, she explains the makeup.

A composite drawn from several interviews, deployed with the details adjusted for the audience, is a recognised bad habit in qualitative research and a recognised good habit in public speaking. But the Times has since reported that quotations recur across his papers attributed to different people, and that participant descriptions shift between articles, with at least twenty-five inconsistencies across three papers. This is the same behaviour, on tape, five years earlier, in three separate recordings.

The professor figures also move. Here, March 2021: 20,000 professors, 35 Black women, 90 Black men. Seven months later at Kellogg: 23,000 professors, 38 Black women. At Bath: 160 out of 24,000. On Channel 4 in 2023: 162, just under 60 of them women. The Black-women figure roughly doubles between March 2021 and September 2023, which is implausible on any real dataset, and the underlying HESA numbers do not move like that. He acknowledges each time that he is painting a picture rather than citing precisely.

He says he did a study with the BBC in 2018 on Russell Group pay differentials by ethnicity, with three specific averages. And he says he was part of the Leading Routes team on the Broken Pipeline report.

‘EDB Lecture – This Is A Low: Advice For Difficult Times’ (Oct. 30, 2025)

The Times Higher Education dossier existed. Carter-Ruck had killed the story six weeks earlier. Baron-Cohen and Sabates had circulated their letter. Jacqui Smith had met academics on September 15. He is standing in Oxford’s Department of Education, and the entire lecture is about being under attack.

3:21 — Never plans what he is going to say, and the PE-teacher reason for it. Fifth recorded instance of the same opening.

5:45 — The Al Pacino speech from Any Given Sunday. We are in hell right now, and either we stay or we fight our way back into the light. It frames the whole talk.

7:17 — Gigs and tailoring. Naming his daughter Taylor.

7:40 — The title from Blur.

12:04 — His youngest son says he would have told the truth because lying is wrong.

12:30 — “What are the economies of truth, ethics and morals that we all compromise at the expense of someone else to get ahead, or to discredit someone, or to feel better about myself?”

14:07 — Two questions implanted young: how important is it to be a good ancestor, and how important is it to you to win, to be right.

18:04 — Loose Women, the all-Black panel, and Dan Wootton.

18:38 — He gives himself twenty minutes of YouTube a day, split between wrestling and following far-right news, in order to understand rather than agree.

22:08 — Academia. “This self-cannibalization.” “The vanity of academia.”

23:02 — His father, here a chef, in 2012: individualism and selfishness is a thing. “You can’t be buried with your books.”

25:08 — The All Blacks jersey. You are a custodian, and your job is to leave it better than you found it.

26:29 — “The reason why DEI is being used as a divisive tool is because it’s been weaponized expertly against us.”

27:14 — Validation. The fantasy of wanting someone to say the paper is amazing, wanting the highest h-index. “This isn’t everything.”

30:38 — “People are taking things that should be here to protect us. They are infringing on every single intersection.”

44:54 — A question on innocence and naivety, and the answer that follows.

45:59 — The 1% story. Someone asked him a few months ago whether he believes 100% of what he says. He paused a long time. He says some days it is 60%, and “probably more recently, because of things that you collectively and individually experienced, is probably down to 1%.”

53:37 — “I’m a cautionary tale of what not to do.”

54:20 — Asked how he is doing: “Tired.” Then: “You’re not perfect, but you have to be perfect. And because of that there is no margin of error.”

55:32 — The online question that produces the most striking answer: what should one do when fighting racism becomes more dangerous than racism itself, and what would you say to those who want to live in the light but know the shadows are safer?

57:12 — The Rocky III beach scene. There is a point where you have nothing to lose, so you give everything, and then you end up having something to lose. Every word becomes consequential. Every single thing you do might be weaponised against you.

59:49 — “I couldn’t even say with a straight face that I might come out of it alive.” And again: “In many respects, I’m a cautionary tale.”

1:09:44 — “The one thing you always want is for people never to make a disconnection between what you say and what you do. If there’s one thing that would kill me, it’s if someone said what Jason says and what he does are two different things.”

In April 2020 the self-cannibalisation, the vanity, the disconnect between words and actions, the people who profit from race work, were all charges he levelled at other academics. In October 2025 every one of those phrases returns, and now they describe what is being done to him.

He does not mention the dossier, the law firm, or the plagiarism claims. He does not have to. The talk is a forty-minute account of a man under a coordinated attack, delivered to a room that has no idea what he is referring to, six weeks after his lawyers stopped a publication from printing what it had found. The audience hears a lecture about the political climate. The speaker is talking about September.

The 1% passage at 45:59 is the most affecting thing in eight transcripts and the hardest to read charitably. A man asked whether he believes what he says, pausing a long time, and answering that it is down to one per cent because of things recently experienced. That is either the honest exhaustion of a man being hunted, or something else entirely.

“I’m a cautionary tale” he says twice, unprompted, at 53:37 and 59:49. And at 59:49, that he could not say with a straight face that he might come out of it alive.

The Q&A question at 55:32 is the giveaway that somebody in the room knew more than the room did. Nobody asks that question of a lecture about hope. And his answer is not about racism in the abstract. It is about the moment when you acquire something to lose, when every word becomes consequential, when everything you do can be weaponised, when the pressure means there is no margin of error and you have to be perfect. That is a man describing his own position ten months before it broke.

And the closing line at 1:09:44 will be the one quoted against him. The one thing that would kill him is someone saying that what Jason says and what he does are two different things.

His father is a chef here and a South African at Kellogg; his mother is described elsewhere as a mental health nurse and both parents as Ghanaian. And 12:30, the economies of truth we compromise to get ahead or to discredit someone, is the most quotable sentence in the set so far.

‘S1/E1 Delayna Spencer, Meredith Clark & Jason Arday: Social Science for Social Justice?’ (Feb. 26, 2024)

His own segment runs about thirteen minutes, from 23:05, and this is the only recording in the set where he is speaking to people fully inside his world, on a podcast co-hosted by his own future co-author. The register is entirely different from Oxford or Bath.

23:05 — Bashment horns on his entrance. He renames Chantelle Jessica Lewis “CJ” for the conversation.

23:48 — Young Black and minority ethnic scholars have faced hyper-surveillance and “a policing of thought” in publishing, confined by restrictive normative binaries “situated in whiteness.”

24:33 — Agency, expressing yourself in the truest sense, autonomously, cathartically, empoweringly, emancipatorily.

25:28 — He has met the most remarkable Black women in his “just over a decade in academia.” Tells Lewis she is probably the best person he has met in academia. Delayna Spencer is a very close second.

25:54 — He credits Spencer single-handedly with preventing another generation of lost Black academics, then repeats “single-handedly” at 26:57 about the change in publishing over five years.

27:19 — Accessibility. “Linguistic Olympics.” Different modes of learning and knowledge exchange.

28:55 — Surviving Society has done it “exceptionally well” and became “the stimulus” and “the catalyst” for how people now think about public sociology across disciplines from STEM to life sciences.

29:48 — Sage “knew where to hitch their ride” and hitched it to the correct wagon.

30:34 — The substantive passage. Historically there was “a policing of anti-racist work and a monopoly on it,” held by white scholars representing the plight of Black people, with Black scholars not given the opportunity to tell the stories themselves.

31:36 — And when they did, “what emerged was a policing and a trivialization of the research that they do as not being empirical, as not being rigorous, as being theoretically flawed.” He notes that the same questions were not asked of white scholars.

32:43 — “Power is rarely given, it’s taken.”

33:47 — Black women are still not given the same autonomy or space.

35:12 — Tiny drops make a mighty ocean, attributed to his father. He hopes the pioneers reap the benefits of their soil and get their flowers.

The passage at 31:36 is the one that will be quoted. In February 2024 he sets out, as a general and structural claim, the exact frame that will later be applied to him: that when Black scholars produce work, the response is to police it and trivialise it as not empirical, not rigorous, theoretically flawed. Eighteen months later Times Higher Education would have a dossier arguing that a specific body of his work was not rigorous, and the frame was already in the record, generalised, and stated by him to a friendly audience.

This is the third documented instance of the frame being laid before the event. April 2026 at Edinburgh is the explicit version. September 2025 on the American podcast is the “modern day lynching” version. This, February 2024, is the earliest and the most abstract.

The praise has scale rather than its warmth. Lewis is the best person he has met in academia. Spencer single-handedly prevented a lost generation. Surviving Society was the catalyst for how public sociology is now done across every discipline. These are enormous claims made about a podcast and a book series, delivered to the people who run them, in a promotional episode. The same generosity he shows here he shows to Lewis in the 2025 episode and to Lissa at Oxford in October 2025.

Meena named him publicly in 2020 as the only Black academic she had seen credit the women who paved his way. It is also true that superlative praise, delivered publicly to people who control platforms and book series, is a form of exchange. He is on a podcast run by a woman he will co-author a Princeton book with the following year, praising a Sage commissioning editor, on a Sage series.

‘BAME Awarding Gap Keynote Lecture: Engaging pedagogically with race and racism’ (Mar. 11, 2021)

It reads like a man delivering a commissioned training lecture.

1:11 — “As an autistic person I learn in a particular way, and so I became quite fixated with how people engage in pedagogical spaces.” He offers autism as the origin of his research interest.

3:35 — The burden falls on Black and minority ethnic staff, and “almost all the time” on women of colour.

4:12 — Uncomfortable spaces. In practice he does not think there should be such a thing if it is facilitated well.

6:48 — A direct correlation between political correctness fifteen years ago and free speech now “being weaponized to demonize particular intersectional groups.”

9:01 — The careful distinction: whiteness as a construct aligned to power and privilege, “it’s not necessarily white people, it’s very important to make that distinction.”

12:21 — 8.3 percent BAME staff across the sector. Immediately followed by: “I’m not saying that if you made that a 50/50 split that might necessarily change it, it’s a bit presumptuous for me to suggest that.”

15:35 — “As a black male that now resides in a privileged position, there are a lot of things I’m not going to be able to relate to.” Then a striking passage: unless he declares absolute modesty about what he understands but has not experienced, “there is license to get things wrong, there is license to miscommunicate.”

18:03 — The best conceptual move in the lecture. Having the right to be in a space is not the same as occupying it. If you sit in silence absorbing information you cannot relate to, “there is no right.”

27:04 — He credits Professor Zeus Leonardo at Berkeley for the apartheid of knowledge framework. Black History Month as four weeks against an eight-month academic year.

28:05 — Unconscious bias remains “the acceptable face of racism,” and training demonstrates good faith but must move beyond it.

29:43 — The one substantial disclosure, and it is about class rather than race. He works through his own unconscious bias as a working-class person toward middle-class people, says it may impair his thinking, and says he talks about it openly to dismantle it. “Growing up on a council estate in absolute poverty, you’re going to have a particular perception of middle-class people who have wealth.”

32:57 — Good pedagogy removes hierarchy. Some students can speak better to the experience than staff can, and the only thing separating them is a title.

34:45 — Collective responsibility, and men of colour who have benefited from the labour of women of colour.

37:32 — The UCL-specific argument, and the sharpest thing in the lecture. BAME students arrive at UCL on high tariffs because UCL demands high tariffs. So if they leave underachieving, the capability explanation cannot hold, and something institutional is happening.

38:38 — “I Am the Walrus,” and the collective responsibility close.

39:29 — “The irony isn’t lost on me now that we’re in a room with women.” Then: “It’s funny but it isn’t funny. Sometimes I laugh about it because I would cry.”

41:15 — He did a keynote at UCL in 2018. “When UCL does something, the world takes note.”

The man could do the job when there was no room to play to. The tariff argument at 37:32 is correctly constructed, and it is the kind of thing that ought to appear in his papers.

The disclaimers here are unusually careful and cut against his own position. He declines to claim that a 50/50 staff split would fix anything. He insists that whiteness as a construct is not the same as white people. He says he cannot relate to things he has not experienced and that speaking about them licenses error. Those are the marks of someone being careful in front of an institution rather than moving a room.

The autism line at 1:11 is the earliest instance I have seen of the diagnosis being offered as the origin of his scholarly method. In the Times in 2025 the same trait, described as mimicry, becomes the explanation for the errors in that scholarship. Same fact doing opposite work, four and a half years apart, and this is where the first half of it starts.

And the class passage at 29:43 is the only place across eleven recordings where he interrogates a bias of his own rather than describing one held against him. He chose class rather than race to do it with, which is the safe choice.

Video: “Whiteness, Racial Trauma, and the University” by Harshad Keval | Social Science for Social Justice’ (Apr. 8, 2025)

Jason is the interviewer.

0:26 — He introduces himself with a single line and hands over immediately. No credentials, no list.

3:07 — Keval’s one-liner: the book is the discussions that take place when whiteness leaves the room.

4:08 — Arday asks about white narcissism and volunteers credit for the term: “As far as I’m aware, I haven’t heard of that term before, so I would credit you with the development of the term.”

6:04 — Keval is careful. He is not describing an individual psychological structure. Narcissism here means a system requiring the constant reproduction of its own idealised image bounced back to it. Facades that make the university look liberal and equality-based while excluding anyone who does not reflect back what the system needs.

8:05 — Arday’s best question of the interview: how much of you is in these pages.

10:38 — Keval’s answer, and the passage that will be read against Arday later. He writes candidly about his own relationship to the academy as a scrabbling around, chasing affirmation, adulation, acceptance. If only we work harder, if only we adopt the norms and mechanisms of success the academy deems valuable, then maybe we get promoted.

12:24 — Arday’s framing question on the political climate: our liberties are being infringed upon, egalitarian ideals infringed upon, anti-racist work dismissed, and the precarity of people producing this work who put their head above the parapet.

15:15 — Keval demurs on precarity. He says he speaks from a position of privilege and can write these words without too much fear of backlash.

16:38 — Arday on compassion: “I could probably count on less than seven fingers how many compassionate people I’ve met in the sector.”

18:27 — Keval: compassion is the answer to the question that hasn’t been asked.

20:03 — The poem at the end of the white narcissist chapter, and the two words that haunted him for six months.

23:07 — Take-away two: ask the questions that haven’t been asked about systems and structures of white narcissism.

25:09 — Arday’s close: a wonderful contribution to knowledge, thank you for your existence, thank you for your perseverance.

Keval’s central concept is a system that requires the constant reproduction of its own idealised image, sustained by individual actors making decisions, producing facades that look liberal and egalitarian while excluding whoever fails to reflect back what the system needs. That is a description of institutional narcissism which, read in August 2026, describes Cambridge’s handling of Arday. And Arday is the man asking him to explain it, five months before his own lawyers stopped a publication from printing what it had found.

Keval’s account of his own relationship to the academy at 10:38 is the other one. Chasing affirmation and adulation, adopting whatever the academy deems valuable in the hope of promotion. He offers it as a confession about the pressures on scholars of colour. It is also, on the plagiarism allegations, roughly the defence Arday’s supporters would end up making about a system that set him up to fail.

Arday gives the credit away at 4:08, unprompted, in a way that costs him nothing. And the question at 8:05, how much of you is in these pages, is a good interviewer’s question that produces the best answer in the episode. He is a capable interviewer.

When Arday sets up the precarity question at 12:24, Keval declines it. He says he speaks from privilege and writes without much fear of backlash. Arday raises the danger of putting your head above the parapet; his subject, who has been doing this for decades, says he is not especially exposed.

‘EDICa Seminar with BSL: In Conversation With Workstream Leads’ (Nov. 28, 2023)

He hosts. The substance belongs to Sang, MacIntosh and Richards.

0:02 — The convener opens by acknowledging the lack of racial diversity on the panel and noting she is disabled.

0:56 — Arday reads the code of conduct. A space of love, respect, acceptance and belonging, “literally to come as they are.”

2:42 — No BSL interpreter was secured; an interpreted version will follow.

8:55 — He asks the panel for visual descriptions for the visually impaired.

9:49 — His own: “I’m a black male, wearing a blue and white T-shirt, and I have thigh-length dreadlocks.”

10:47 — Sang. Told she could not play cricket because she was a girl. Her father a feminist. The RAF recruiting office with two columns of pay, men’s and women’s, and her walking out.

12:09 — Sang was told she could not have a career looking at equality, diversity and inclusion, and being stubborn, decided she could.

13:05 — Academics on strike that day across Scotland and England, partly over gender, disability and race pay gaps.

14:25 — Richards. His son diagnosed with autism, then called Asperger syndrome, around 2005. He read the employment-and-autism literature and found it well-intentioned and not evidence-based. So he went and did a postgraduate certificate in autism at Sheffield Hallam, found a secondary dataset, and published in Personnel Review.

17:31 — MacIntosh on moving from an engineering PhD to a social sciences faculty, and discovering how socially dependent a research career is.

26:46 — Richards: working-class, father a toolmaker, ten or twelve years in engineering, university in his late twenties, single parent and primary carer, career held back about five years.

33:03 — MacIntosh’s Bannister analogy. A medic off shift who ran the first four-minute mile, versus today’s squad of sports scientists and ice baths. Academia has professionalised the same way.

43:18 — Sang’s answer, and the sharpest thing said by anyone in eleven transcripts about this field. She wants EDI research recognised as expertise, with robust theory underpinning it, because there is “a tendency in this work for a lot of non-evidence-based practices to happen” and for people to assume that being affected by something means knowing everything about it. “This is robust empirical research that we do.”

44:27 — She names Athena SWAN as an example of people doing the work without the expertise.

50:57 — Pressed on Athena SWAN, she treads carefully, says it has not moved gender representation in the sciences, and notes that a number of white men who led Athena SWAN panels progressed to chair off the back of it.

50:03 — Richards on impostor syndrome: however many papers you publish, you always feel someone will jump out and say you are a fraud.

Sang at 43:18 is the item. A professor of gender and employment studies, on a panel chaired by Arday, arguing that the central weakness of EDI scholarship is that lived experience gets substituted for method, that people assume being affected confers expertise, and that the remedy is robust empirical work with a real evidence base. Arday agrees at 44:43 and extends it to race and class.

Set that beside the Times reporting three years later: quotations recurring across his papers attributed to different people, participant descriptions shifting between articles, twenty-five inconsistencies across three papers. The critique he endorsed here is the one his own work would fail.

Richards at 14:25 is the counterexample the whole set has been missing. A man whose child was diagnosed with autism, who read the literature, found it under-evidenced, and responded by taking a postgraduate certificate, locating a dataset, and publishing in a peer-reviewed journal. That is the same starting point as Arday’s account of entering mental health research via a Birkbeck master’s, and a very different finish.

The rest is Arday doing a competent job as a chair. He asks good questions, follows up, gives Sang the last word, and singles her out at the close.

Posted in Jason Arday | Comments Off on Jason Arday: ‘Things Can Only Get Better’

The Awarding Institution

Cambridge’s answer to the plagiarism allegations was procedural and, on its face, unanswerable. Investigations of this kind are carried out by the institution where the research was done, because that institution holds the records. This is standard across the sector.

It is standard, and it is true, and it assigns the question to the one body in Britain that could not answer it.

Liverpool John Moores University awarded Jason Arday his doctorate. If the thesis reproduces substantial passages from Paula Zwozdiak-Myers’s 2009 Brunel thesis, then the plagiarism was not caught by his supervisors, not caught by his examiners, not caught at his viva, and not caught in the eleven years since. A finding against Arday is a finding against the university’s entire doctoral process, delivered by that process about itself, and followed by the question of whether to strip a degree from the most celebrated graduate the institution has ever produced.

The rule that assigns the investigation assigns it to the party with the largest stake in the outcome. That is not a scandal. It is the rule working exactly as written, and the rule was written for cases where the awarding body is indifferent.

Liverpool John Moores was not indifferent, and the reason is worth stating plainly, because it has gone unmentioned.

Arday’s career was the best thing that had ever happened to that university’s reputation. A doctorate from a former polytechnic, granted university status in 1992, carrying a man to a professorial chair at Cambridge inside a decade. Every argument the post-1992 sector makes about itself is contained in that sentence. Talent is distributed everywhere. The ancient universities are gatekeeping rather than selecting. A serious research training can be had outside the Russell Group.

Cambridge has ten thousand things to point at. Liverpool John Moores had one.

So the panel that convened in 2025 and reported in March 2026 was examining a claim that, if upheld, would have destroyed the institution’s single most valuable public asset and impugned its doctoral standards in the same document.

It concluded that the citation problems amounted to honest and reasonable error.

Now read the second half of the finding, which is the part nobody has looked at. The panel also determined that the textual overlap with Zwozdiak-Myers’s thesis fell, in its phrase, within the accepted range of compliance with the academic standards of the time.

Consider what that sentence commits the university to.

It does not say the overlap is small. It says the overlap is normal. It says that in 2015, at Liverpool John Moores, a doctoral thesis containing passages closely tracking another thesis, in places carrying over the earlier document’s copy-editing errors, was within the range the institution accepted.

If that is true, it is a statement about what the university tolerated in its doctoral programme, and it applies to every thesis it awarded in that period rather than to this one. If it is not true, the panel invented a standard to cover a case.

Either way the exculpation of the man is an indictment of the body doing the exculpating, and it went straight past everyone because the sentence was read as being about Arday.

The panel produced a second self-incriminating finding, offered as mitigation. It accepted that his supervisory team had been depleted. He had one formal supervision during the entire doctorate. Other contact with his director of studies took place by telephone and text message. Of the two other academics assigned to him, one left the university and he never met the other.

That is a university making an official finding that it failed to supervise a doctoral candidate, and entering the finding into the record in order to excuse the candidate.

Both defenses work only by conceding the thing that should worry an outside observer more than the original allegation. The first says the standard was low. The second says the supervision did not happen. Together they say that whatever went wrong here was not exceptional, which is precisely why an outside body should have looked.

Now the referral itself, considered as a status transaction.

Cambridge sent the question downward. That phrasing will annoy people and it is accurate. A question about the doctorate of a Cambridge professor was directed to a post-1992 university, and Cambridge then treated the answer as settling the matter while retaining the ability to say, if the answer collapses, that the investigation was never its own.

The referral also lowered the visibility of the finding. A Cambridge inquiry clearing a Cambridge professor attracts national attention and invites the obvious objection. A panel at Liverpool John Moores reports into a much smaller room. Nobody has published the panel’s terms of reference, its membership, whether any member was independent of the institution, or what evidence it saw. The public knows two phrases from it, both by way of a newspaper.

Then the finding travelled, and did what these findings do.

The panel found honest and reasonable error, which is a finding that errors occurred and were excusable. By July 28, 2026, a solidarity letter signed by thirteen thousand people said that entirely false allegations had been made and that investigations had found no evidence whatsoever of wrongdoing.

A finding of excusable error became a finding of no error, in one step, in four months. The qualifier went first, as it always does.

And Arday himself has told the Times that multiple thorough investigations across several institutions, including an academic misconduct panel, concluded there was no plagiarism or academic misconduct. That is a fair account of the outcome. It is not an account of who conducted it.

Which leaves the question of who could reopen it, and the answer is nobody.

Arday won and has no reason to appeal. Liverpool John Moores protected its degree, its supervision and its most famous graduate in a single document. Cambridge obtained a finding it can cite and did not have to make. The publishers have a book. Times Higher Education, which had the evidence, was removed from the field by a letter from a law firm.

Paula Zwozdiak-Myers has no standing to complain in any process that exists. Nothing was taken from her that the law recognizes as a loss and no university procedure gives her a role. Brunel awarded her doctorate and has a mild interest in saying so, no jurisdiction over another university’s thesis, and no appetite for a fight with a Cambridge professor’s solicitors.

There is no party in Britain with both the standing to challenge the finding and a reason to want to.

That is the structure worth naming, and it generalizes past this case. A rule that assigns misconduct investigations to the awarding institution produces reliable results whenever the institution is indifferent to the answer, and produces nothing whenever it is not. The rule contains no test for which situation it is in. Sector practice treats access to the records as the governing consideration, when the governing consideration should be whether the body holding the records can afford what they show.

Anyone designing this from scratch would separate the two. The awarding institution supplies the documents. Somebody else reads them.

That is roughly how it works for financial audit, for medical device approval, and for aircraft accident investigation, all of which learned the lesson expensively. British higher education has not had its expensive lesson yet.

It may be about to.

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A Web Page Can Be Edited

In March 2023, Jason Arday wanted a chair. Cambridge wanted an answer. It had five Black professors and three years of questions about that number, and no fast way to change it, since a professoriate turns over across decades. Then a candidate appeared whose appointment answered the question in a single sentence that every newspaper in the world would print for free.

He got a job. The university got a paragraph it could put in front of any critic for a decade.

Reputation behaves like an asset in one respect that turns out to govern everything in this story about who gains and who loses status in the Jason Arday drama. Some holdings can be sold quietly and some cannot.

If you are going to do something that might get you in trouble if presented accurately on the front page of the New York Times, it’s best to not be legible.

If you have to be legible, then be editable.

Southampton Solent published a press release in July 2023 saying Arday had raised over £5 million for eighty charities across eighteen years, and that he had run three hundred miles in three days and six hundred miles in six. Sometime around July 31, 2026, the page acquired the words “as part of several fundraising collectives,” and the running claims came out.

Anglia Ruskin’s honorary award page carried the six-day version through February 28, 2026. By July 21 it said twelve days, and the fundraising figure had grown the same qualifying clause. That page is a transcript of a citation read aloud in a hall in 2024, so the current text misreports what a room full of graduands heard.

Simon & Schuster’s speakers bureau got there first. Between May 19 and July 24, 2025, more than a year before any of this broke publicly, the £5.5 million became “millions of pounds,” and the running feats disappeared.

None of those institutions announced anything. Each reduced its exposure and left the appearance of its earlier position intact.

Now consider who cannot do that.

On July 28, 2026, thirty-eight people put their names to a letter stating that entirely false allegations had been made and that investigations had found no evidence whatsoever. Three heads of Cambridge colleges. Five members of the House of Lords. Six members of Parliament. The general secretary of the National Education Union. The director of Cambridge’s autism research centre. Thirteen thousand more signed underneath them within days.

A signature is a position that cannot be closed. It can be recanted, which is a different and more expensive transaction. There is no edit button.

So the affair sorted its participants by an attribute nobody was thinking about at the time. Institutions that expressed their belief in editable text have already reduced their holdings. People who expressed it in a name are carrying full exposure. And the two groups made the same judgment about the same man; only the instrument differed.

The capacity to revise quietly is a species of capital, it is unequally held, and it is invisible until the repricing starts.

The largest position belongs to Cambridge. In 2023 it published his biography as a statement about the university, which converted a man into evidence about an institution. Every subsequent defense has followed from that. A spokesman called him the victim of a campaign against his credibility. The university said investigations belong to the awarding institution.

A holder who cannot mark down without marking himself down does not mark down. He waits, and hopes the price recovers, and if it does not, he arranges for the asset to leave on its own initiative so that no sale is ever recorded. That is the likeliest ending here, and it will be described as a personal decision.

Simon & Schuster is the most sophisticated actor in the affair.

It hedged the speaker biography in mid-2025 and kept the book. It has said publication will proceed in all formats on the scheduled date, and Routledge has said the same about his academic titles. That is a firm that reduced its cheap exposure early and retained its expensive one, because the expensive one now has an option attached: a memoir by a man at the center of a national controversy has a different sales profile from a memoir by an inspiring professor, and possibly a better one.

Notoriety converts. That is the part people miss when they assume Arday is the one being destroyed.

What does Arday lose here?

His scholarly standing, certainly, and the possibility of a normal academic career. But the public identity that generated the honorary degrees and the keynote fees was never a scholarly identity. It was an inspirational one, and the market for that identity has not closed. He has a book in three weeks, publishers standing behind him, a university defending him, and thirteen thousand people on record calling the allegations false. He has told the Times he did not murder anybody. He has said his critics have positioned him as a liar and a fantasist and that the cruelty is unacceptable.

Those are the moves of a man who has read the market correctly.

Now the losers.

The field is sociology of education. John Preston described it to The Guardian as fragile, staffed primarily by Black, Asian and minoritized scholars, with Arday at or near the top of it worldwide. Every one of those scholars will spend the next decade being asked, in interviews and grant panels and hiring committees, a question they did nothing to invite. Their work will be read by people looking for something.

There is no version of this affair in which they do not pay. Clearing him costs them, because the clearance will not be believed by the people already disposed to doubt. Condemning him costs them, because the condemnation will be generalized. The bill arrives regardless of the verdict, and it arrives at addresses that had no part in the transaction.

Second, Times Higher Education. It commissioned the work, assembled sixty-three pages of comparisons, brought in an outside reviewer who told it there was extensive plagiarism, and then received a letter from Carter-Ruck and killed the story. It spent the money, took the risk of the reporting, and captured none of the return. Ten months later the material surfaced elsewhere, and the publication that had it first is now a paragraph in other people’s accounts, appearing as the outlet that folded.

That is the worst outcome available in journalism. Better to have never looked.

Third. Paula Zwozdiak-Myers submitted a doctoral thesis at Brunel in 2009. She has had a career since. Her name has now entered public life in Britain for the first time, and it has entered as a possessive: the woman whose thesis was allegedly copied.

She gains nothing. There is no status in having been the source. The work was already hers and its being hers is not news; only the theft would be news, and the news belongs to the man accused of it. If the allegation is upheld she will be a footnote in his scandal. If it is dismissed she will be a footnote in his vindication. She did not choose either role and has, so far as I can find, said nothing publicly.

Status flows to whoever can tell a story about a wrong. It does not flow to whoever was wronged. Everyone involved in this affair has a narrative except the person at the bottom of the paper trail.

Fourth, the checkers.

David Harris, an emeritus professor who had already lost and regained a title once. Nathan Cofnas, sacked from a college fellowship, now in Belgium. Benjamin Ryan, a freelance journalist working the Internet Archive. David Sanders, a biochemist at Purdue. Retraction Watch. An anonymous blog.

They have been vindicated, and the vindication buys them nothing they want.

Cofnas wants to be a philosopher at a good university. Being right about a plagiarism dossier does not purchase that. What he gains is standing in a counter-elite that already agreed with him.

A man who is correct in a field he has been expelled from has won an argument in a room he cannot enter.

The reward for checking is denominated in a currency the checker cannot spend, and the punishment for checking is denominated in the currency he needs.

Fifth, Simon Baron-Cohen, whose exposure is doubled.

He organized a letter in September 2025 and signed another in July 2026. Both concerned racism, and neither says anything about anyone’s diagnosis. But he directs Cambridge’s autism research centre, and Arday has since told the Times that his method of making sense of information relied heavily on mimicry, offering that as the explanation for errors in his early work.

That proposition, left standing, is a claim about autistic researchers, entered into the national record on their behalf by a man who did not consult them. The person in Britain with the most standing to address it is the person who has twice put his name to the defense.

Sixth. The Guardian profiled Arday admiringly in July 2023 and investigated him in August 2026, and it will be credited for both. This is the strongest position anyone occupies in the affair. An institution capable of performing construction and deconstruction under the same masthead captures value twice from the same subject, and is never required to reconcile the two performances, because the second one is presented as journalism doing its job rather than as a correction of the first.

Nobody will ask the paper how a figure of more than five million pounds got into a profile in 2023 without a single question about which charities.

The status that was created between 2010 and 2026 was created out of nothing anyone verified, and it was distributed widely and cheaply. Everybody marked up. A university, four honorary degree committees, a learned society, a publisher, a charity sector, a television network, a newspaper, thirteen thousand signatories and one man all recorded a gain, and none of it came at anyone’s expense at the time.

The repricing is the first moment at which anyone has to say what he knows.

Notes

The appointment and the university’s position

Cambridge announced the appointment on February 22, 2023. Reporting at the time noted that the university had five Black professors. The Guardian’s admiring profile ran on July 11, 2023. The same paper’s investigation ran on August 1, 2026, under Lanre Bakare’s byline, and is the source for John Preston’s remarks about the fragility of the field.

Cambridge’s statement that Arday was the victim of a campaign against his credibility, and its position that investigations belong to the awarding institution: “Exclusive: News outlet killed story on plagiarism allegations after Cambridge prof hired law firm,” Retraction Watch, July 27, 2026. This is also the source for the sixty-three page dossier assembled by Times Higher Education in September 2025, for David Sanders’s review of it, and for the Carter-Ruck letter that ended the story.

The quiet sales

Benjamin Ryan, “Jason Arday Said He’s Not a Liar. The Receipts On His Charity Claims Say: Decide for Yourself,” Hazard Ratio, August 1, 2026. The archive-by-archive reconstruction on which the dated edits below rest.

Southampton Solent, archived May 19, 2025 and archived July 31, 2026 with the collectives clause added

Anglia Ruskin‘s honorary award citation, a transcript of a 2024 speech. Archived October 8, 2024. Unedited on February 28, 2026. Edited by July 21, 2026

Simon & Schuster speakers bureau, archived September 10, 2024 with the £5.5 million and the running feats and archived July 24, 2025 after the revision. Current

The signatures

Good Law Project, “Stand in solidarity with Jason Arday,” opened July 28, 2026, with the thirty-eight named signatories

The publishers

Jason Arday’s publishers to ‘go ahead as planned’ despite plagiarism row,” The Bookseller, July 31, 2026 and “Publisher stands by Jason Arday memoir amid plagiarism allegations,” UnHerd, July 29, 2026

The interview

Fiona Hamilton and Emma Yeomans, “Jason Arday: I am not a liar, says star academic accused of plagiarism,” The Times, July 31, 2026. Source for his response to the allegations and for the account of mimicry offered as an explanation of errors in his early work.

A note on Paula Zwozdiak-Myers

She has made no public statement that I can find, and nothing in this essay should be read as speaking for her or as characterizing her view of any of it. The allegation concerning the overlap between the two theses remains an allegation; Liverpool John Moores investigated and cleared Arday, and a panel concluded in March 2026 that the citation problems amounted to honest and reasonable error. What is not in dispute is that her name has entered British public life attached to someone else’s controversy, and that she chose none of it.

Baron-Cohen

The September 2025 letter circulated by Simon Baron-Cohen and Ricardo Sabates was reported by The Telegraph, July 25, 2026, syndicated here. Both letters concern allegations of racism.

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By That Standard

Tom Wolfe put the whole operation into one telephone call, and he did it forty years ago.

In The Bonfire of the Vanities,, Peter Fallow of the City Light needs a fact about a boy in a coma. He rings the boy’s English teacher at a high school in the Bronx on a Saturday afternoon. Zane Rifkind is in his driveway drinking beer and making a for-sale sign for his Thunderbird, and he does not want to talk, and he answers every question honestly anyway.

Fallow asks whether Henry Lamb is an outstanding student. Rifkind says outstanding is not a word they use at that school. Fallow asks whether he is a good student. Rifkind says good does not work either, the question is whether a boy attends class. Fallow asks about written work. Rifkind laughs and says there has been no written work at the school in fifteen years, maybe twenty, only multiple-choice reading comprehension, because that is what the Board of Education counts. Fallow asks about reading comprehension. Rifkind says he would have to look it up.

Then Fallow does the thing.

He asks Rifkind to define the standard. Rifkind obliges. At his school, he says, an honor student is a boy who attends class, does not disrupt it, tries, and manages reading and arithmetic. Fallow immediately says: by that standard, is Henry Lamb an honor student?

By that standard, yes.

The next morning the paper says honor student.

Nobody lied. Rifkind said something true. Fallow printed something true. The conditional that made it true was present in the conversation, was stated aloud by the teacher, was assented to by both men, and did not survive the trip to the composing room.

I have been writing about claims that inflate as they pass through institutions, and about how the qualification is always the first thing to go. Wolfe had the finding in 1987 and put it in a scene instead of a framework, which is why it has stayed readable.

Watch the two moves separately.

The first is the stripped conditional. This is the ordinary one, the one that requires nobody’s dishonesty. A speaker qualifies a claim. The qualification is a burden on him and a nuisance to whoever repeats it. The repeater is the one holding the pencil. So the qualification goes, and what remains is shorter, more usable, and no longer testable, because the conditional was the testable part. Fallow does not need to deceive Rifkind. He needs only to let Rifkind supply a definition and then decline to print it.

The second is worse and Wolfe buries it where a fast reader will miss it. The quotation the paper attributes to Rifkind is invented. In print he says the situation is tragic, that Henry belongs to that remarkable fraction of students who overcome the obstacles of life in the South Bronx and concentrate on their studies and their futures, that one can only wonder what he might have achieved in college. He said none of that. He said the range at his school runs from cooperative to life-threatening and asked twice not to be quoted.

So the reader gets a manufactured sentiment in quotation marks and a technically defensible word outside them, and the manufactured one is the one that carries the piece. Wolfe understood that the fabricated quote does the emotional work while the laundered word does the factual work, and that a paper which would never invent a fact will invent a feeling.

Notice who in that chapter knows the most and who is most exposed by knowing it.

Rifkind knows the school has assigned no written work in fifteen years. He knows what the enrollment figures mean, sixty-five at the start of the year, forty by midwinter, thirty at the end. He knows the boys are boys and that he is not supposed to say so. He states his central finding in Latin, that nothing comes from nothing, to a man who lets it pass without comment. And twice he asks not to be quoted, because he understands that in his position accurate knowledge is a liability and the only safe form of it is the unattributed kind.

The honest man in the room is the one trying to get off the phone.

That is a description of his incentives, and the incentives are the same everywhere the claim travels. Rifkind gains nothing by being right about Ruppert and loses his job if he is quoted being right about it. Fallow gains a front page. The paper gains a circulation war. Reverend Bacon and Albert Vogel gain a demonstration. The only person in the chain with a reason to keep the conditional attached is the man who will be punished for stating it.

Wolfe also has the carrier group, seventeen years before the sociology of cultural trauma named it. Vogel rings Fallow to feed him the tip about the Motor Vehicle Bureau. Bacon is holding the story for him, exclusive, and Vogel tells him to run with it. The mother is credible, the flat is orderly, there are pictures on the walls. Fallow has visited that apartment exactly once, with Vogel and one of Bacon’s men, and never returned, and by the following week his standing at the paper as an intrepid explorer of the lower depths is high enough that he does not care to correct the impression.

The reporter’s biography inflates alongside the subject’s, out of the same material, at the same rate. That is a detail I have never seen in the academic literature and it is the sort of thing only a novelist reporting from inside a newsroom would think to include.

And there is Sherman McCoy shouting about the car. They keep calling it a luxury car, he says, and it is only a Mercedes. He is right and it does not help him. The paper needs an adjective that carries a charge, and the accurate noun carries none. Every one of these stories runs on a descriptor chosen for its symbolic voltage rather than its precision. Luxury sedan. Poster boy. Youngest ever. The word is doing work the fact cannot do, and arguing about the fact does not touch the word.

Now the disanalogy.

Henry Lamb is unconscious. He makes no claim about himself, has no memoir coming, gives no keynote. Everything built on him is built without him. His mother believes what she says. Rifkind says nothing false. The reporter commits one fabrication and one omission. And the machine still produces a saint out of a boy nobody in the chain has any reason to sanctify.

That is Wolfe’s harder claim, and it is easy to miss because the novel is usually read as satire on race and money. The apparatus does not require the subject’s participation. It required no dishonesty from Rifkind, no calculation from Annie Lamb, and no consciousness at all from Henry. Give it a usable case and it will produce the figure it needs, and it will produce him out of true statements if true statements are what it has.

Which is the uncomfortable implication for any case where the subject did participate. The instinct is to run the whole explanation through him. He inflated, he embellished, he supplied the story, and everyone else was deceived. Wolfe’s scene says the chain would have generated most of it anyway. Rifkind’s honesty was no obstacle. The conditional was stated and printed away. The subject’s cooperation makes the process faster and is not the reason it works.

There is one more thing in that phone call.

Fallow, running out of angles, asks whether Rifkind can tell him anything at all about Henry Lamb’s performance or aptitude, anything at all. Rifkind answers by describing the class. Sixty-five students at the start of the year because the administration knows it will be forty by midwinter. Thirty by June, and thirty is still too many. He tells the reporter that the question has no answer, that the school does not produce the information the question assumes, and that any number he supplied would be an artifact of the asking.

The reporter hears a man failing to give him a quote.

Most of the time, when a source cannot answer a question, he is reporting that the world does not contain the fact. There is no way to print that, so it does not get printed, and the story runs with a word that was true in the room and false on the page.

By that standard, yes.

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The Man Who Would Not Vouch

Near the end of A Man in Full, Charlie Croker stands at a podium in Atlanta with the mayor behind him and declines to say what he has been paid to say.

The deal was simple. Wes Jordan, the young Black mayor, believes the city will burn if a Georgia Tech running back named Fareek Fanon is arrested for raping the daughter of a rich white businessman. Croker was a Georgia Tech hero in his own day and carries weight with white Atlanta. If he holds a press conference and declares Fanon innocent, the mayor will intervene with the bank that is dismantling him.

Croker knows nothing about the case. He meets Fanon and hates Fanon as anyone in his position would, and he assumes Fanon did it. The accuser’s father is his friend. And he needs the money more than he has ever needed anything.

He gets to the podium, says he has been threatened with ruin unless he vouches for a man he cannot vouch for, tells his creditors to come and take everything, and walks out.

Tom Wolfe (1930-2018) published that in 1998. In July 2026, thirteen thousand people signed a letter stating that plagiarism allegations against a Cambridge professor were entirely false, and among the first thirty-eight signatories were three heads of Cambridge colleges, five members of the House of Lords, six MPs, and the director of the university’s autism research centre. Almost none of them had read either of the two doctoral theses at issue. The letter’s assurance was not a finding. It was a character reference, produced because institutions needed one to exist.

Wolfe wrote the scene of a man refusing to supply it. Nobody has yet written the scene of thirteen thousand people supplying it for free.

Wolfe is periodically enlisted as a truth-teller about Black behavior, which is a radioactive claim. The more socially acceptable claim is that Wolfe’s subject is white institutional need. In each of these episodes the moral weight falls on the people with the money and the letterhead, and the Black figures in the frame are responding rationally to a demand that somebody else created and advertised. That is why he stayed publishable for fifty years while writing material nobody else would touch, and it is also what makes the work bear on the Jason Arday Cambridge plagiarism scandal.

Start with an early case.

Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers, 1970. The San Francisco poverty program had money to distribute and no way to tell a real community organization from a man who walked in claiming one. It had no membership rolls, no audits, no method. What it had was a room, a scheduled meeting, and a bureaucrat whose job was to absorb whatever came through the door.

So the program selected on the only signal available, which was the performance. The groups that got funded were the ones that arrived in numbers, made noise, and frightened the man behind the desk. Wolfe reports that Samoans did unusually well because they were large. The confrontations were theater with a script both sides understood, and the flak catcher’s function was to take the abuse and produce a check.

Wolfe’s charge is against the program. It specified the performance, advertised the specification, paid for compliance, and then affected surprise at the performers it attracted.

That is a complete theory of a selection problem, written thirty-four years before the sociology of cultural trauma got around to carrier groups, and it applies without alteration to a system that rewards a particular biography and then expresses astonishment when biographies of that shape keep arriving.

Radical Chic is the same year and the same operation in a penthouse on Park Avenue. Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990) and his guests are certifying the Black Panthers, and the criterion of authenticity is menace, which is a standard no amount of reporting could confirm or refute. The detail that carries the essay is the staffing. The Bernsteins could not have Black servants passing canapés to Black revolutionaries, so they hired South Americans. Wolfe understood that the entire evening was a problem of staging.

He is markedly fairer to the Panthers than to the hosts. The Panthers want money and say so. The hosts want to be observed wanting to give it.

In The Bonfire of the Vanities the phrase is the Great White Defendant. Abe Weiss, the Bronx district attorney, convicts Black and Puerto Rican defendants every day of the year and needs a white one before the election, because the legitimacy of his office depends on it. The need precedes the case. When Sherman McCoy appears, he is not discovered so much as filled in.

Sherman spends the novel unable to settle what happened on the ramp. Two young men approached him in the dark and he has never known whether they meant to rob him or to help.

The other half runs through Reverend Bacon, whose funding from the Episcopal diocese is nominally for a day-care center. Wolfe’s suggestion is that the white donors would rather not learn what the money does, because learning would oblige them to act on it. The day-care center that does not quite exist is the same object as a five-and-a-half-million-pound fundraising total attributed to collectives whose members are said to be covered by non-disclosure agreements.

And then A Man in Full.

Notice what the mayor’s motive is — riot prevention. Jordan is a competent politician managing a city, and buying a testimonial from a bankrupt white businessman is the cheapest available instrument. Croker is a trad who assumes the worst about Fanon and would say the opposite for money. Inman Armholster wants his daughter’s account believed and will not let her go to the police. Everyone is acting rationally. Nobody is lying. And the process cannot produce a true statement about what happened in that dorm room, because no participant has any reason to produce one.

Liverpool John Moores investigated and cleared Arday. Cambridge said the responsibility lay with the awarding institution and called the allegations a smear. A publication (Times Higher Education) with a sixty-three page dossier of text comparisons dropped the story on receipt of a letter from a defamation firm. Simon & Schuster is publishing the memoir on schedule. A campaigning organization is collecting signatures. Every one of those actors is behaving sensibly given its position, and the arrangement has no station at which a person with the power to find out has a reason to want to.

Wolfe always includes the broker, and the broker is usually the one who decides what the story will be. Albert Vogel and Reverend Bacon hand Peter Fallow his exclusive and tell him to run with it. Roger White III, called Roger Too White, moves between Croker and the mayor and is the only man in the novel who understands both rooms. He is also Wolfe’s best Black character.

The brokers’ interests match neither the institution’s nor the subject’s. They are paid in access and relevance, both of which increase with the intensity of the conflict. A man whose standing depends on there being a fight will reliably locate one.

Both novels have been filmed. They were made thirty-four years apart, by different studios, in different decades of American racial politics, and they solved the same problem by opposite methods.

Take the first.

Brian De Palma made The Bonfire of the Vanities for Warner Bros in 1990. Wolfe’s trial judge is Myron Kovitsky, a Jewish judge who faces down a courtroom mob. On screen he is Judge Leonard White, played by Morgan Freeman.

Julie Salamon had access to the production and published The Devil’s Candy about it the following year. Her account is that De Palma decided the script needed a sympathetic African American character, and that Alan Arkin, already cast and signed for a modest fee, was paid to go away so Freeman could be hired at a much larger one. Other accounts put the decision with the studio, which was worried about the film’s racial politics.

Now watch what the film does with Wolfe’s argument.

In the closing scene the judge denounces Reverend Bacon for race-baiting. He denounces the district attorney for pursuing the case to court minority voters rather than in the interest of justice. He tells a courtroom full of people that they have no standing to feel self-righteous. Then he asks them to be decent.

That is Wolfe’s charge, delivered from the bench, in a major studio release at Christmas 1990. It survived because of who was speaking it.

Three quieter changes in the same film run the same direction.

Reverend Bacon goes from what Roger Ebert called the scheming, intelligent grafter of the novel to a comic blowhard. That may be the most effective of the three. A competent operator indicts a system, because a system is what he operates in. A buffoon indicts nobody. Making a man ridiculous removes the institutional charge while leaving the character on screen, and nobody can accuse you of having softened anything.

The two youths on the expressway ramp become menacing symbols. In the novel Sherman is haunted by the possibility that they meant to help him, and the possibility is never resolved. The irresolution is the book’s subject. Nobody with the power to find out has any reason to want to. The film answers the question the novel refuses to answer, and a story about institutional incuriosity becomes a story about a man wrongly accused.

And Peter Fallow becomes the narrator. He still arrives drunk at the Pulitzer banquet in the opening scene, so Wolfe’s joke is technically preserved. But the audience now watches the whole affair through the eyes of the man who laundered Rifkind’s word and invented Rifkind’s quotation. Wolfe’s Fallow is the machine. De Palma’s is the guide.

Now the second.

David E. Kelley (b. 1956) made A Man in Full into six compelling Netflix episodes in May 2024. The Fanon storyline is deleted. There is no Black athlete, no accusation, no white heiress, no purchased press conference, no dilemma for Croker.

In its place, the mayor schemes to expose a decades-old sexual assault committed by his opponent in the mayoral race, a white right-wing challenger named Norman Raymond, and he is portrayed by actor Peter Pasco, and the accuser is a woman played by Lucy Liu.

Conrad Hensley, the white warehouse worker from Oakland whose imprisonment and discovery of Epictetus form the philosophical spine of the novel, is recast as a Black man in Atlanta, played by Jon Michael Hill, convicted of assaulting a violent police officer over a parking dispute and freed at trial by Roger White.

And the Stoicism is gone, which means the adaptation removed Wolfe’s diagnosis and his remedy in the same pass and kept the corporate melodrama.

Set the two racial substitutions side by side. A Black man accused of raping a white woman becomes a white politician accused of assaulting a woman. A white man brutalized by the criminal justice system becomes a Black man brutalized by a police officer.

Two solutions, then, to one problem.

In 1990 the criticism was kept and the speaker was changed. In 2024 the criticism was cut and the accused was changed. The earlier film relicensed Wolfe’s argument by putting it in a permitted mouth. The later one moved the accusation onto a permitted target and deleted whatever would not move.

The 1990 method is the more sophisticated of the two and it leaves the work with something to say. Freeman’s speech is the most Wolfean thing in the picture. The 2024 method leaves nothing, which is what nearly every reviewer registered without quite naming: an adaptation whose subject has been removed and whose plot has been retained.

Two things follow.

The first is that this is documented. Salamon was in the room. The decision to change the judge’s ethnicity, the money paid to remove one actor and hire another, the reasoning offered at the time, all of it has been on the record for thirty-five years. That converts an inference into a minuted meeting.

In 1998 a major American novelist could publish the unrearranged version and take the top of every bestseller list in the country. Neither book could be filmed as written, in 1990 or in 2024, and the two productions found different exits from the same difficulty. The template requires a defensible target or a licensed speaker, in the same way the trauma template requires a permitted victim. Those requirements are commercial, social, cultural, moral and political, which is why they persist across administrations and why nobody involved in either production experienced the decision as censorship. Each one experienced it as casting.

Two more things about Wolfe and race.

His Black characters are thinner than his white ones. Sherman McCoy, Larry Kramer, Charlie Croker, Conrad Hensley and Peter Fallow have interiors, contradictions and self-deceptions rendered from inside. Reverend Bacon and Fareek Fanon are surfaces. Wolfe worked in types, and the distribution of interiority is uneven.

And the reading that makes Wolfe a racial thinker extracts one axis from a body of work that ran the same operation on everyone available. He did it to WASP bond traders, Jewish assistant district attorneys, art critics, Bauhaus architects, feminist demonstrators, Cuban policemen, Miami Russians, and the entire Baby Boom generation.

What Wolfe had was a method for saying unwelcome things and surviving. The Right Stuff, for example, recounts that Kennedy wanted a Black astronaut, that a captain named Ed Dwight (b. 1933) was put forward, and that NASA declined to advance him above his merit.

Wolfe wrote as a reporter of status. He never advanced a policy claim. He aimed the moral charge at elites, who cannot claim victim standing and whose discomfort makes good copy. He wrote in a register mannered enough that the material arrived as comedy. In Hooking Up he reported the firing of a federal mental health administrator over remarks about a primate study, described two National Institutes of Health conferences on genetics and criminality that were shut down or disrupted, said he took the heritability of intelligence seriously, and predicted that the fight over Charles Murray (b. 1943) and Richard Herrnstein (1930-1994) was only beginning. He described what people did and declined to say what should be done.

Which returns to the podium in Atlanta.

Wolfe’s climax is a man who has every material reason to sign the statement and does not sign it, because he does not know whether it is true. That is the whole moral content of a nine-hundred-page novel: the refusal to certify what one has not checked.

He put it at the end because he thought it was hard. He was writing about a bankrupt good ol’ boy who needed eight hundred million dollars and who could have had it for one sentence at a press conference.

Thirteen thousand people gave the sentence away in a week, for nothing, and were praised for it.

Notes and sources

The novel and the adaptation

Tom Wolfe, A Man in Full (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1998). The press conference, the mayor’s offer of bank relief in exchange for a public declaration of Fareek Fanon’s innocence, Croker’s refusal, and Conrad Hensley’s imprisonment and discovery of Epictetus.

Kevin Mims, “Less Than Half ‘A Man in Full,’Quillette, May 13, 2024. A detailed comparison of novel and miniseries, and the source I relied on for the plot of the book where my memory of it needed checking.

A Man in Full, created by David E. Kelley, six episodes, Netflix, released May 2, 2024. Cast and credits

On the deletion of the Fanon storyline, the recasting of Conrad Hensley, and the substituted assault plotline involving the mayor’s challenger and Joyce Newman: Daniel D’Addario, Variety, May 2, 2024, https://variety.com/2024/tv/tv-reviews/a-man-in-full-review-netflix-jeff-daniels-1235990141/ ; Judy Berman, Time, https://time.com/6973213/a-man-in-full-review-netflix/ ; RogerEbert.com, https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/a-man-in-full-tv-review-netflix-2024 ; and Marie Claire’s ending explainer, https://www.marieclaire.com/culture/tv-shows/a-man-in-full-ending-explained/

The reviews establish that the athlete plot is gone, that Conrad is played by Jon Michael Hill, and that the surviving assault accusation is directed at the mayor’s right-wing opponent. See the full credits at https://www.imdb.com/title/tt15845610/fullcredits/.

The 1990 film

The Bonfire of the Vanities, directed by Brian De Palma, screenplay by Michael Cristofer, Warner Bros., released December 21, 1990.

Julie Salamon, The Devil’s Candy: The Bonfire of the Vanities Goes to Hollywood (Houghton Mifflin, 1991). The contemporaneous account of the production, including the decision to change the judge’s ethnicity and the replacement of Alan Arkin with Morgan Freeman. Summarized with citations in the AFI Catalog entry

Roger Ebert’s review, December 21, 1990. Source for the characterization of the novel’s Bacon as a scheming, intelligent grafter reduced on screen to a comic blowhard, and for the two youths on the ramp being played as menacing symbols.

Plot, cast and the content of Judge White’s closing speech: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bonfire_of_the_Vanities_(film) Budget and box office figures from the same entry. I have not rewatched the film; the account of the speech rests on these summaries and should be checked against the picture by anyone quoting it.

The other Wolfe

Tom Wolfe, Radical Chic and Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1970). The Bernstein party, the staffing problem, the San Francisco poverty program, the confrontation as scripted theater.

Tom Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1987). Abe Weiss and the Great White Defendant, Reverend Bacon’s diocesan funding, Peter Fallow’s interview with Zane Rifkind.

Tom Wolfe, The Right Stuff (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1979), for the account of Ed Dwight, which should be read alongside Dwight’s own.

Tom Wolfe, Hooking Up (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2000). “Sorry, But Your Soul Just Died” contains the material on sociobiology, the dismissal of the federal mental health administrator, the disrupted National Institutes of Health conferences, and the prediction about the reception of The Bell Curve.

The letter

Good Law Project, “Stand in solidarity with Jason Arday,” opened July 28, 2026, with the full list of signatories

Exclusive: News outlet killed story on plagiarism allegations after Cambridge prof hired law firm,” Retraction Watch, July 27, 2026. Source for the sixty-three page dossier and the letter that ended the story.

Posted in Jason Arday, Tom Wolfe | Comments Off on The Man Who Would Not Vouch

The Renewable Wound: Jason Arday and the Trauma That Has to Keep Happening

A JustGiving page from 2010 is still live. Jason Arday (b. 1985), then a twenty-four-year-old sports lecturer at Richmond upon Thames College, announced he would run thirty marathons in thirty-five days for Shelter and the Shooting Star Children’s Hospice. He set a target of £5,000. The page records what came in. He raised £6,285, plus £1,045.77 in Gift Aid.

Fourteen years later, a citation read aloud at St Mary’s University, granting him an honorary doctorate, said he had raised £5.5 million for over eighty charities, and named the thirty marathons among the efforts that did it.

Nobody hid the page. It sat on the open internet the entire time. Shooting Star Children’s Hospices later told the Telegraph that Arday raised £10,800 for them across the years. Shelter declined to give a figure; a JustGiving page for his three-hundred-miles-in-three-days challenge shows £380.

The documented public total runs to something around eleven thousand pounds. The circulated total ran to five and a half million.

Both numbers were available to anyone who looked. For sixteen years, nobody looked.

That gap is the subject here. Not whether Arday lied, which investigations and, eventually, publishers and employers will settle. The question underneath is why a story this checkable went unchecked by so many institutions whose ordinary business is checking things, and why the errors ran in one direction.

Jeffrey Alexander (b. 1947) gives the tools to ask it. His argument in Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity is that suffering does not become socially significant on its own. Somebody has to make it legible. “Trauma is a socially mediated attribution,” he writes, and he means the attribution can be made during an event, after it, or in advance of it, and that events which never occurred can carry traumatic meaning as effectively as events that did. He is not saying pain is fictional. He is saying the public meaning of pain gets manufactured, by identifiable people, in identifiable institutions, for identifiable reasons.

Alexander calls those people carrier groups. They have interests, positions, and the skill to turn injury into a story a wider public will accept. He lists what a successful trauma narrative must establish: the nature of the injury, the identity of the victim, the relation of the victim to the wider audience, and who caused it. Answer all four persuasively and solidarity follows. Fail any of them and the suffering stays private, however severe.

I want to use this framework and then argue against part of it. The Arday case does something the framework predicts. It also does something the framework has no room for, and it exposes a flaw in Alexander’s own epistemology that only shows up when the case is live.

First, the record.

Some things are settled. Arday holds a professorial chair in the sociology of education at Cambridge, appointed in 2023, the youngest Black professor in the university’s history. He carried the Olympic torch in 2012. He has a real publication list and real students. He has raised money for charity. He received racist emails after arriving at Cambridge, and Cambridge responded with screened correspondence, upgraded cameras, and a panic alarm in his office. Liverpool John Moores University, which awarded his doctorate, investigated the plagiarism allegations and cleared him. A panel reportedly concluded in March 2026 that the citation problems amounted to honest and reasonable error consistent with the standards of the time. Simon & Schuster and Routledge say they are proceeding with him. His memoir, Great and Unfortunate Things, written with the editor and ghostwriter Eve Claxton, is scheduled for August 27, 2026.

Some things are contested, and one class of them is graver than plagiarism. The Times, reporting on July 31, 2026, found that quotations from research participants recur across Arday’s papers attributed to different people, and that his descriptions of the participants themselves shift. In one paper, participant eleven appears as a Black female academic, as an Asian female professional services worker, and as a mixed-heritage female academic. The paper counted at least twenty-five such inconsistencies across three articles. It also found a quotation from an undergraduate almost identical to one in earlier work by the epidemiologist Anjum Memon. Independent specialists told the paper the findings warranted investigation. Arday says these are clerical errors, that the people are different people with similar experiences, and that he has not fabricated anything.

Copied prose is a question about attribution. Interview subjects who change race and occupation between papers is a question about whether the interviews happened. Those belong in different categories and the coverage has mostly run them together.

Nathan Cofnas, a philosopher now at Ghent, published side-by-side comparisons in July 2026 showing passages in Arday’s 2015 thesis close to Paula Zwozdiak-Myers’s 2009 Brunel thesis, in places carrying over copy-editing errors from the original. Cofnas is a self-described race realist. In February 2024 he published an essay taking hereditarianism as a working assumption, which cited internal Harvard data indicating that under strictly colorblind admissions based on academic qualifications the student body would be around 0.7 percent Black, and inferred from it that the same criterion applied to hiring would drive the number of Black professors toward zero. He lost his research associateship at Emmanuel College. Cambridge dismissed all fifty-eight student complaints against him in October 2025, finding no discrimination or harassment. He now works at Ghent.

The reaction to that essay deserves a moment, because it rehearses the failure this piece is about. A student petition said he had written that in a meritocracy Harvard would have no Black professors. The Daily Mail then printed the allegation inside quotation marks. An inference drawn from a cited figure had become, through repetition alone, a sentence he never wrote and a quotation he never gave. Nobody checked, and nobody had a reason to, because checking would have vindicated a man nobody in the relevant institutions wanted vindicated.

The same failure runs both directions. That is the argument for thinking it arithmetical rather than ideological.

David Harris, an emeritus professor at Plymouth Marjon who had earlier written to Cambridge about Arday’s work, had himself lost and regained an emeritus title over a post on critical race theory. Cambridge described the allegations as a smear campaign against his credibility.

And some things have already collapsed. The six-day, six-hundred-mile run became a twelve-day run with rest days inserted. Anglia Ruskin and Southampton Solent edited their citation pages accordingly. The five and a half million became participation in fundraising collectives of roughly a hundred people. Asked by the Guardian to name anyone else in those collectives, Arday said non-disclosure agreements prevented it. He told the Times, at the end of the worst week of his life, “what I am not is a liar.”

The escalation is documented with dates, because Benjamin Ryan went through the archive. In 2010 the local paper reported he had raised more than six thousand pounds for the two charities and, in the same article, more than a hundred thousand across his fundraising career. There is then a decade with no traceable claims at all. In April 2021 a TEDx biography says £4.5 million for eighty-plus charities. In September 2021 a talk says just over £5 million. By 2024 it is £5.5 million, in an honorary degree citation, in a National Autistic Society speaker announcement, and in a speakers bureau biography. In October 2024 he tells a funeral directors’ convention in New Orleans that a five-year run of ultramarathons earned just over £5 million.

Nobody in that chain invented the number. Each institution took it from the last one and added its own letterhead. The TEDx page cited nothing. The honorary citation cited the TEDx-era figure. The speakers bureau cited the citation. The Guardian’s 2023 profile put more than £5 million into the newspaper of record, and after that every subsequent repetition could point to the Guardian.

This is how a figure launders. Repetition looks like corroboration when everyone in the chain is repeating the same original source, and the original source is a man talking about himself.

Then the chain runs backward. When the story broke, Anglia Ruskin edited its honorary award page so that six days became twelve and £5.5 million became £5.5 million as part of several fundraising collectives. That page is a record of a speech delivered aloud in 2024. The edited text now misreports what was said in the room. Southampton Solent made comparable changes. Simon & Schuster’s speakers bureau had already softened the figure to “millions of pounds” sometime between May and July 2025, more than a year before the public row.

That last date deserves a moment. Somebody at the publisher grew cautious about the number in the middle of 2025 and quietly took it out, while the memoir built on the same biography went forward.

So: carrier groups, in Alexander’s sense, and an unusually crowded field of them.

Cambridge could present the appointment as evidence that an ancient institution was opening. It had reasons to want that evidence. When Arday arrived, Cambridge had five Black professors and a recent history of being criticized for it. St Mary’s, Anglia Ruskin, Solent, Roehampton, Glasgow and Durham each got an alumnus or former colleague who justified their existence. The National Autistic Society got a keynote answering the fear every parent of a nonverbal three-year-old carries. Charities got a fundraiser who converted his suffering into service. Conference organizers got a plenary speaker who left rooms in tears. American breakfast television got two minutes of uncomplicated good news. Simon & Schuster got the architecture of a commercial memoir without having to build it, and hired a professional to smooth what remained.

That last item is not incidental. Eve Claxton has lectured on giving a personal story a compelling arc. The narrative smoothing that Alexander describes as a social process is, at the top of the market, a paid trade with practitioners and technique. The trauma apparatus does not merely select for the well-shaped story. It employs people to shape it.

None of this requires coordination. Each institution reached into a complicated life and took what served it. The selections fed back into the public biography, and the biography grew more coherent with each pass, because incoherent material got left behind at every stage.

This case departs from the fabrication cases in a way that has not been noticed.

In The Counterfeit Witness I argued that fabricated Holocaust memoirs expose the specifications of the trauma market more clearly than authentic testimony can, because the fabricator, having no experience to constrain him, overfits to the template. Binjamin Wilkomirski (b. 1941) supplied a child voice calibrated to perform unprocessed memory while remaining followable for three hundred pages. Misha Defonseca (b. 1937) escalated until a Jewish child crossed wartime Europe, lived with wolves, and killed a German soldier. Herman Rosenblat (1929–2015) was the subtler case and the more useful one. He survived Buchenwald. What he made up was the girl throwing apples over the fence who later became his wife. Real suffering, plus the redemptive supplement the market wanted and his real life had failed to provide.

Rosenblat is the right comparison, and the analogy should stop there. There is no equivalence between genocide and the career of a British academic, and no present basis for calling Arday a fabricated identity. What carries over is the structure: authentic material entering a system that rewards a particular finish, and acquiring that finish.

But there is a difference between Rosenblat and Arday, and the difference is the argument.

Rosenblat’s persecution was over. It ended in 1945. His story could be completed, and the completion was the point: the apples, the marriage, the redemption. The trauma had a terminus, and everything after the terminus was recovery.

Arday’s story cannot terminate. The political claim it carries requires that the injury continue.

Consider what the biography is for. It is offered, by Cambridge and by the advocacy world and by Arday himself, as evidence about British institutions. If the story ended at the professorship, it would prove the opposite of what it is meant to prove. A Black autistic boy from Clapham who could not read at eighteen becomes a Cambridge professor at thirty-seven, and then the racism stops: that is a story about a system that works. It flatters exactly the institutions the story is supposed to indict.

For the biography to function as an argument about structural racism, the persecution has to survive the success. The victory has to be incomplete. Something has to keep happening.

And something does. Racist emails arrive, which is credible and documented. Then the claims run forward and upward. In an open letter to the minister Jacqui Smith in July 2025, Arday listed being threatened with a knife, assaulted, spat on, sent rape and death threats, sent bananas and bullets through the university, and sent corrosive substances and mutilated animals to his family home. He later described a masked man confronting him twice in the faculty building, producing a knife on the second occasion. He described a severed pig’s head delivered in a box to his parents’ address in south London, and a police investigation that traced it through local butchers.

The Guardian checked. No intruder on either camera system. No colleague saw anyone. Arday hit the panic alarm, he says, and the security team, all present, did not come. He reported neither intrusion at the time, continued his working day, and conducted a doctoral viva under two hours later without mentioning to anyone that an armed man had been in the building. The butchers he named said no officer had asked them about a pig. The Metropolitan Police said his account of their investigation was incorrect in every particular. He photographed none of the objects. He produced no message to anyone, at the time, about any of them.

He stands by all of it. That belongs in the record alongside the absence of corroboration.

The escalation follows the requirement. A trauma role that has to be renewed in the present tense generates present-tense supply. That is the structural addition the Arday case makes to Alexander’s framework, and it is why the Holocaust memoir cases, which concern a closed past, do not fully anticipate it. The historical trauma narrative can be completed. The contemporary structural-injustice narrative cannot, because completion falsifies it. Its carrier groups need evidence dated this year.

Which brings us to the plenary.

In April 2026, at the British Sociological Association’s seventy-fifth anniversary conference in Edinburgh, Arday delivered a keynote titled “Wanted Dead or Alive: The Playbook.” He described a strategy by which conservative activists comb the work of Black academics for citation errors and overlapping passages, after which right-wing media and politicians amplify what they find. Claudine Gay (b. 1970) lasted seven months at Harvard. Others felt hunted. Some academics have killed themselves. He said the instruments built to protect academic integrity were being weaponized, and he asked his colleagues not to stand by while their peers suffered.

Members of the audience found it odd. Keynotes usually concern the speaker’s research. Some of them concluded he must have a reason.

He did. In September 2025, seven months before Edinburgh, Times Higher Education had a story ready. It had assembled a sixty-three page dossier of text comparisons. David Sanders, a biochemist at Purdue who reviews misconduct claims for the publication, went through it and reported back. “There is no question that there is extensive plagiarism,” he told Retraction Watch. Arday engaged Carter-Ruck, among the most feared defamation firms in London, which wrote to the publication. The story was killed.

And September 2025 was busy. In the same month, two Cambridge professors circulated an open letter among colleagues under the heading urging them to sign an anti-racism letter for Jason Arday. One was Ricardo Sabates, professor of education. The other was Sir Simon Baron-Cohen, director of the university’s Autism Research Centre. The letter referred to an earlier document sent to a Minister of State, and warned of a potential public attack on Arday. On September 15, 2025, according to parliamentary records, Jacqui Smith met a group of academics to discuss the harassment of Black academics.

Nothing about that is improper on its face. Colleagues defend colleagues. Ministers meet academics.

But look at what happened inside one month, before the public knew anything. The media arena was closed by a law firm. The state bureaucracy arena was opened by a ministerial meeting. And a letter circulating inside Cambridge told the university’s own staff, in advance, what the coming allegations meant. Alexander’s model treats these arenas as places where a trauma claim is contested after it enters public life. Here all three were configured before it entered public life, by people who knew what was coming and who had ten months of quiet in which to work.

So the sequence runs: dossier assembled, story spiked by legal threat, colleagues canvassed, minister met, keynote delivered seven months later naming the coming criticism as a racist playbook, allegations surface publicly ten weeks after that, and the frame is already installed and endorsed by a learned society, a government department, and the accused man’s own university.

Alexander says the attribution of trauma can be made before the event, as an adumbration. He offers it as a passing observation about nationalist historiography. The Arday case gives it operational content. The Edinburgh plenary is a trauma claim filed in advance of the event it interprets, delivered by a man who knew a dossier existed, to an audience of the exact professionals who would later be asked to evaluate it.

I do not need to establish intent to make the point. The frame was pre-installed. Its usefulness does not depend on whether installing it was calculated.

Now apply Alexander’s four questions to the right object.

Most of the commentary applies them to Arday’s biography. That is the wrong target. The biography is a life story competing for attention. The cultural trauma being constructed in the summer of 2026 is the scrutiny.

On July 28, 2026, the Good Law Project opened a solidarity letter. Within days it passed thirteen thousand signatures. Read it against Alexander’s grid.

The injury: a sustained and malicious campaign against a Black academic’s integrity. The victim: Arday, expanding immediately to Black and Brown young people who seek positions of leadership, and to Black academics generally. The relation of victim to audience: anyone who believes in academic freedom, fairness, and due process. The perpetrator: right-wing media, engaged in hate and division.

All four boxes filled, in under four hundred words. Alexander could have used it as a worked example.

The letter also makes a claim of fact. “Entirely false allegations of plagiarism were made against Professor Arday,” it says, and adds that investigations found no evidence whatsoever and that the relevant journals found no basis. Set aside whether that is right. Ask what the thirteen thousand signatories are in a position to know. Almost none of them read the 2015 thesis. Almost none read Zwozdiak-Myers’s 2009 thesis. None saw the sixty-three page dossier, because Carter-Ruck ensured nobody saw it. The letter converts a textual question, which is answerable by reading two documents side by side, into a solidarity question, which is answerable by signing.

The names do the work the reading was supposed to do. Lord Simon Woolley, Principal of Homerton College. Dame Ijeoma Uchegbu, President of Wolfson. Sonita Alleyne, Master of Jesus. Three heads of Cambridge colleges vouching for a Cambridge professor’s textual practice. Kehinde Andrews, Zack Polanski, John McDonnell, Clive Lewis, Nadia Whittome, Apsana Begum, Bell Ribeiro-Addy. Lord Boateng, Lord Rees, Lord Hastings, Sir Patrick Vernon, Sir Clive Jones. Jolyon Maugham. The general secretary of the National Education Union. The CEO of the Black Equity Organisation.

And Professor Sir Simon Baron-Cohen (b. 1958), of Cambridge, who runs the university’s Autism Research Centre and had organized the internal letter ten months earlier.

I will come back to him.

That is what carrier groups do. They lend position where evidence is unavailable, and the lending is sincere.

Which brings me to the part of this affair that I think nobody has priced.

In the Times interview, Arday explained the errors in his early academic work by reference to his autism. His way of making sense of information, he said, relied heavily on mimicry. He added that anyone’s work would show similar errors under equivalent scrutiny, and that his doctoral supervision had collapsed: one formal supervision across the whole degree, the rest by phone and text, one assigned supervisor gone from the university, the other never met.

Read the defense next to the biography.

The autism is what made the ascent improbable. A nonverbal three-year-old whom experts wanted institutionalized becomes a Cambridge professor at thirty-seven. Remove the diagnosis and there is no story, no memoir, no keynote, no honorary degrees, no Good Morning America. The improbability is the product, and the diagnosis manufactures it.

The autism is now also what explains why the work does not hold up. The same trait that made the achievement remarkable accounts for the passages that match another scholar’s thesis.

One condition, doing both jobs. It supplies the height of the climb and it absorbs the impact of the fall.

Alexander’s framework has categories for the injury, the victim, the audience, and the perpetrator. It has no category for an injury that functions as credential on the way up and as alibi on the way down. That configuration is not available to most trauma claimants. A man persecuted for his politics cannot say his politics caused his citation errors. A survivor of violence cannot say the violence explains his methodology. Only a claimed cognitive condition can perform both offices, because only a cognitive condition bears on the production of the work.

This is why the case reaches further than DEI, which is where most of the commentary has parked it. The reversible injury is a general form. Any claim that is simultaneously a moral credential and a functional excuse will be selected for by a market that rewards both overcoming and forgiveness. Expect more of them.

Arday ran the same move inside the adjudicative arena. His defense at the Liverpool John Moores panel, according to the Times, included asking the panel to weigh the political context of a war on critical race theory, alongside his autism and complex learning disabilities. The panel cleared him in March 2026, finding honest and reasonable error and text overlap within the accepted standards of the period.

So the trauma frame was entered as evidence in the one arena Alexander describes as bound by evidentiary discipline. It worked. That is a harder finding than anything about media compression, because the panel was the place the system had designated to resist exactly this.

The autism advocacy world now has a problem, and it is not the one it thinks it has.

If mimicry explains reproducing another scholar’s thesis, that is a claim about autistic researchers, entered into the public record on their behalf by a man who did not consult them. Autistic academics have spent thirty years arguing that they can meet ordinary professional standards and want to be held to them. The defense mounted in their name says the opposite. Every autistic doctoral student in Britain now has to work in a country where a Cambridge professor told a national newspaper that his condition accounts for text he did not write.

Baron-Cohen is in the sharpest position. He runs Cambridge’s Autism Research Centre. He organized the September 2025 letter and signed the July 2026 one. Both concerned racism, and neither is a statement about anyone’s diagnosis, and I do not suggest otherwise. But the man whose name in Britain is nearest to synonymous with autism research has twice lent it to the defense of a colleague whose diagnosis is now the stated explanation for his plagiarism, and he has not, so far as I can find, said anything about that explanation.

Somebody in that field will eventually have to. The alternative is letting mimicry stand as an autistic trait that excuses misconduct, which is a more damaging proposition than anything Cofnas has published.

Here is where Alexander’s institutional map fails.

He lists the arenas through which trauma claims travel: religious, aesthetic, legal, scientific, mass media, state bureaucracy. He treats the legal arena as the place where responsibility gets adjudicated and reparations distributed. Nuremberg. Truth and reconciliation commissions. Tribunals that produce findings.

England has a different legal arena, and it operates on the mass-media arena directly, before publication, in private. Carter-Ruck did not adjudicate anything. It removed a story. A specialist publication with a sixty-three page evidence file and an outside reviewer who found extensive plagiarism decided the exposure was not worth the risk. Retraction Watch reports that neither Carter-Ruck nor Times Higher Education would comment.

Alexander’s model has no slot for the legal arena as pre-emptive editor. It should. The English libel regime makes verification expensive for the verifier and cheap for the subject, which means the cost of checking a trauma claim falls on whoever wants to check it. Publish the construction and nobody sues. Publish the deconstruction and you might. That asymmetry does more to explain the ten-month delay than any theory of institutional desire, and it belongs in the framework alongside the arenas Alexander names.

It also complicates the story people are telling about who broke this open. Cofnas published in July 2026 and got the credit and the blame. But Times Higher Education had the material in September 2025, assembled independently, and Sanders reviewed it independently. The finding does not descend from the finder. That decoupling is the answer to the question the defense campaign keeps asking, which is who these critics are and what they believe.

Motive does not settle a proposition. A man with ugly views can read two theses correctly. A man with admirable views can decline to read them. Cofnas’s views on race are, by the standards of his critics and mine, repellent, and they are irrelevant to whether page 47 of one thesis reproduces page 112 of another. Anyone can check. Two documents, one afternoon.

When an institution substitutes the moral classification of the investigator for the investigation, it has stopped being a university. That is the standard, and it applies to critics too: the people calling Arday a fraud on the strength of his politics are running the identical operation with the signs reversed.

Which brings me to the argument I want to make against Alexander.

He is explicit that cultural sociology brackets the truth question. We are not primarily concerned, he writes, with the accuracy of social actors’ claims, nor with judging their moral justification. Epistemology, not ontology. Imagination participates in representing what happened as fully as in representing what did not.

As method, that is powerful, and it produced the best account we have of how collective suffering acquires public meaning. It works because Alexander was writing about closed cases. Nobody reading his chapter needs to be told whether the Holocaust occurred, or whether American slavery occurred, or whether the Khmer Rouge killed a third of Cambodia. The ontology is fixed. Bracketing it costs nothing and buys analytic clarity.

Now watch the same move in a live case.

Bracketing the truth question about Arday’s pig’s head means declining to do the only thing that settles it. The bracketing is not neutral. It is a decision to leave the field to the parties with the strongest incentives, and one of those parties has a memoir out in three weeks.

Worse, the bracketing becomes a resource. Say that the social construction of a claim can be analyzed independently of whether the underlying event occurred, and you have handed the claimant a defense that costs him nothing. Every request for the police report can be reclassified as an instance of the phenomenon under study. Alexander’s constructivism, applied prospectively, arms the very carrier groups it was built to describe.

There is a version of cultural sociology that would have caught this. It would say: the construction question and the verification question are separate, and both are ours. How the story travelled is one inquiry. Whether the butcher sold a pig is another. The discipline that studies how institutions come to believe things has an obligation to notice when it is one of them.

The sociology of education, John Preston told the Guardian, is a fragile field, staffed largely by Black, Asian and minoritized scholars, and Arday sits at or near the top of it worldwide. Preston, having gone through the comparisons, said the evidence lines up into a case that requires an answer. Another scholar of race and education, speaking anonymously, said the plagiarism was obvious. These are people with everything to lose by saying so.

They understand the position the field is in. If the discipline that studies how institutions launder their preferences cannot audit its own star, it has published a finding about itself.

Now, the specifications.

The template for a successful contemporary trauma hero can be inferred from any number of these cases. Here it can be read off the archive instead. Every element that circulated most widely can be checked against the record, and the pattern in the corrections tells you what the buyers wanted.

Early vulnerability, extreme, medically certified, dated to age three. Multiple disadvantages stacked, so the improbability of the outcome multiplies: Black, working class, autistic, nonverbal to eleven, illiterate to eighteen. A recognizable antagonist, structural and named. A destination whose prestige requires no explanation, which is the function Cambridge performs and no other British institution performs as well. Measurable achievement, in pounds and miles, because numbers travel and qualifications do not. Suffering that produced benevolence rather than bitterness, supplied by the charity. And continuing hostility after the triumph, so the structural claim survives the individual success.

Every one of those elements is either unverifiable or has been revised downward under scrutiny. The two that broke first, the miles and the money, broke because they were the only ones expressed as numbers. Six days became twelve. Five and a half million became a hundred-person syndicate. A childhood diagnosis, a first word at eleven, and a masked man nobody else saw are not falsifiable in the same way, and they remain standing.

And one specification I did not see until the defense arrived. The ideal disadvantage is reversible. It should be grave enough to make the achievement improbable and functional enough to explain the failure, so that the same fact can be spent twice, once for admiration and once for mercy. Autism does that. Poverty does not. Racism does not. A market that rewards both the overcoming and the forgiveness will select for the conditions that can supply both, and will keep selecting for them after this case is closed.

That is the finding. Under scrutiny, the falsifiable elements of the biography have moved and the unfalsifiable elements have not. A story assembled to be true would not fail in that pattern. A story assembled to be told would fail in exactly that pattern, because the teller has no way to know in advance which claims will one day be audited, and the audit reaches numbers first.

Prestige is what turned the audit on. A lecturer’s astonishing charity run circulates for a decade as a nice item in a local paper. A Cambridge professor’s astonishing charity run reaches people who know what a six-hundred-mile week means, and those people noticed that the ultra-distance community had never heard of him, which would be strange for an athlete near the world record. A small charity total stays impressionistic. Five and a half million invites accounting. A lightly read 2015 dissertation from Liverpool John Moores can sit undisturbed forever. A dissertation belonging to the most celebrated appointment in British sociology of education attracts line-by-line comparison.

The institutions that amplified him created the conditions for the audit. The Guardian profiled him admiringly in July 2023 and investigated him in August 2026. Construction and deconstruction were performed by the same masthead, three years apart, with the same professional standards applied to different questions. The first asked what the story meant. The second asked whether its sentences were true.

I expect the institutional response, when it comes, to be individualization. Arday becomes the problem. Cambridge was deceived. Journalists trusted a source. Honorary degree committees repeated what they were given. A publisher relied on an author. Advocacy groups acted in good faith. One unreliable man exploited a system built for decent purposes.

Some of that will be accurate. All of it evades the question.

Somebody wrote the sentence “raised over £5 million for 80 charities over an 18-year period” into a Solent press release in July 2023. Somebody at St Mary’s wrote £5.5 million into a citation and read it aloud in a hall in July 2024. Somebody at the National Autistic Society put it in a conference announcement in February 2024. Somebody at the Guardian put more than £5 million into a profile that every later citation could lean on. Not one of them asked which charities, or requested a breakdown, or spent the four minutes it takes to search JustGiving for his name.

They were not deceived in any demanding sense of the word. They were given a claim that served them and declined to test it. Recognition felt like knowledge. It usually does.

And after the story broke, several of them went back and edited the record so that the past would look more careful than it had been. Anglia Ruskin’s page now misreports a speech that a room full of graduands heard in 2024. That is a smaller offense than plagiarism and a more revealing one, because it was committed in 2026 by an institution with nothing to gain but the appearance of prior rigor.

Arday said the best sentence anyone has produced in this affair. Pressed by the Guardian on the harassment allegations, he said: “To be honest with you, I thought you’d just believe me.”

It should outlive the scandal. It states the terms of the arrangement everyone had been operating under and nobody had spoken aloud.

Testimony asks for more than the transfer of information. It asks to be received. Under that arrangement, the moral failure appears to begin when somebody asks for proof, rather than when the proof fails to arrive.

There are good reasons that arrangement exists. Victims of rape, of domestic violence, of racist assault, of clerical abuse, of torture, were disbelieved for generations by societies organized to protect the accused and the respectable. The presumption of belief was a correction to a real and catastrophic error, and abandoning it would be a disaster.

But every correction builds its own failure. Tune a system entirely against false negatives and it will start producing false positives. And the common failure is not the wholesale impostor. It is inflation. A recollection becomes a story. A story becomes a biography. A biography becomes a speaker’s fee, an honorary citation, an institutional fact, a book. Each step is small and each step is upward.

The inflation runs fastest where the speaker’s moral standing and the institution’s moral standing have fused. Cambridge did not merely employ Arday. It published his biography, and in doing so made him evidence about Cambridge. The advocacy organizations did not merely defend a colleague. They made his treatment evidence about Britain. The publisher does not sell recollections. It sells an inspiring underdog story, and it says so on the jacket.

Once a man is evidence for an institution’s virtue, checking him costs the institution something. A question about a butcher becomes a referendum on racism, disability, diversity policy, and the legitimacy of criticism. At that point the narrative has grown a defense. Scrutiny gets reclassified as harassment. Requests for evidence get reclassified as disbelief. The identity of the critic displaces the content of the criticism. And each new criticism confirms the original diagnosis, which means the story can absorb any quantity of contrary evidence without changing.

That is dangerous even if the protagonist is telling the truth. A true claim survives verification. It does not need protection from it. The strongest thing Arday could have done in September 2025 was let Times Higher Education publish and answer it. Instead a law firm removed the question, and the answer arrived ten months later on worse terms, from Cofnas, with the record of the suppression attached.

The wrong lessons are easy to name and will be drawn anyway. That claims of racism should now be met with suspicion. That autistic achievement invites doubt. That institutions should stop looking for talent outside the usual pipelines. Also wrong: that verifying a sympathetic figure serves his enemies and should therefore be discouraged.

The right lesson is harder to live with. Moral importance raises the verification burden. The more an institution intends to make a person stand for a group, a cause, an injustice, or a historical correction, the greater its duty to distinguish what it knows from what it has been told. Cambridge owed Arday more scrutiny than it gave him, and owed it precisely because it intended to make him mean something.

There is a symmetry in what has happened to him, and it is not the kind that consoles.

He rose because institutions turned particulars into narrative. He is falling because investigators are turning narrative back into particulars.

How much money. Which collective. Whose name. How many days. Which thesis. Which passages. Which camera. Which police report. Which butcher.

The questions are small and the story was large. Cultural myths get assembled out of individual facts and cannot always survive being taken apart into them.

That was the deepest finding of the fabricated Holocaust memoirs, and it was never that some people lie. People have always lied. The discovery was that false stories reveal the desires of truthful institutions. Wilkomirski, Defonseca and Rosenblat succeeded because publishers, journalists, teachers and audiences already held a picture of what morally serious suffering was supposed to look like. The fabricators did not invent the expectations. They met them.

Arday’s case is not that, and the analogy should stop before the accusation. He may be a man who suffered, achieved, embellished, and then could not stop. He may be something else. The investigations will report.

The structural question survives either verdict.

An apparatus that has grown better at recognizing the correct performance of suffering than at verifying the events beneath it will keep buying performances. It will buy them from honest people who have learned what audiences reward, which is the common case, and occasionally from people who have learned nothing else. And because its newest product requires the injury to continue after the triumph, it will keep buying fresh injuries, in the present tense, from people whose standing now depends on producing them.

Cambridge believed a story. So did the Guardian, the National Autistic Society, four universities that gave him honorary degrees, a learned society that gave him a plenary, a publisher that gave him a book, and thirteen thousand people who gave him a signature.

The question is not why they believed it.

The question is what they were buying.

Theory

Jeffrey C. Alexander, “Toward a Theory of Cultural Trauma,” chapter 1 of Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity (University of California Press, 2004). Text used here: https://lukeford.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/culturalTrauma.pdf The carrier group concept, the four representational questions, the list of institutional arenas, the bracketing of ontology, and the remark that attribution may be made in advance “as an adumbration” all come from this chapter.

Didier Fassin and Richard Rechtman, The Empire of Trauma: An Inquiry into the Condition of Victimhood (Princeton, 2009), on the traumatized victim moving from suspect to moral authority.

Anne Rothe, Popular Trauma Culture: Selling the Pain of Others in the Mass Media (Rutgers, 2011), on the portable narrative grammar of American Holocaust discourse and its migration into misery memoir.

Parul Sehgal, “The Case Against the Trauma Plot,” The New Yorker, December 27, 2021: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/01/03/the-case-against-the-trauma-plot

Luke Ford, “The Counterfeit Witness: Fabricated Holocaust Memoirs and the Architecture of the Trauma Market,” April 7, 2026: https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=180558

The current reporting

Lanre Bakare, “Playbooks, plagiarism and a pig’s head: new claims surrounding a star Cambridge professor,” The Guardian, August 1, 2026. Source for the CCTV, the panic alarm, the butchers, the Metropolitan Police response, the Jacqui Smith letter, the John Preston and anonymous academic quotes, and the line about being believed.

Exclusive: News outlet killed story on plagiarism allegations after Cambridge prof hired law firm,” Retraction Watch, July 27, 2026. Source for the September 2025 Times Higher Education story, the sixty-three page dossier, David Sanders, the Carter-Ruck letter, and the Cambridge statement about a campaign against Arday’s credibility.

Fiona Hamilton and Emma Yeomans, “Jason Arday: I am not a liar, says star academic accused of plagiarism,” The Times, July 31, 2026. Source for “what I am not is a liar,” the hundred-person syndicate, the mimicry explanation, the collapsed doctoral supervision, the critical race theory context offered to the Liverpool John Moores panel, the March 2026 finding of honest and reasonable error, the twenty-five participant inconsistencies across three papers, and the overlap with Anjum Memon’s work.

Cambridge’s diversity poster boy in plagiarism row,” The Telegraph, July 25, 2026. Source for the September 2025 letter circulated by Simon Baron-Cohen and Ricardo Sabates under the heading urging colleagues to sign an anti-racism letter, its reference to an earlier letter to a Minister of State, its warning of a potential public attack, and the parliamentary record of Jacqui Smith meeting academics about the harassment of Black academics on September 15, 2025. Non-paywalled syndication: https://www.yahoo.com/news/politics/articles/cambridge-diversity-poster-boy-plagiarism-134658961.html

The Telegraph, July 29, 2026, on the running claims and the charity totals, including Shooting Star’s £10,800 figure and the £380 Shelter page: https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2026/07/29/cambridge-diversity-poster-boy-fresh-row-marathon/ Non-paywalled syndication: https://www.yahoo.com/news/us/articles/cambridge-diversity-poster-boy-faces-131418921.html

Nathan Cofnas, “DEI Fraud and Cover-Up at Cambridge,” July 21, 2026. The side-by-side thesis comparisons.

The documentary trail on fundraising

Benjamin Ryan, “Jason Arday Said He’s Not a Liar. The Receipts On His Charity Claims Say: Decide for Yourself,” Hazard Ratio, August 1, 2026: https://benryan.substack.com/p/jason-arday-said-hes-not-a-liar-but The archive-by-archive reconstruction. Nearly every dated claim in my fourth and fifth paragraphs comes from here.

The 2010 JustGiving page, still live, showing £6,285 plus £1,045.77 Gift Aid: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/jasonjogs30in35

The 2010 challenge blog: https://web.archive.org/web/20100820091332/http:/30in35.wordpress.com/

Richmond & Twickenham Times, August 25, 2010: https://www.richmondandtwickenhamtimes.co.uk/news/8350040.clapham-based-jason-arday-completes-30-marathons-in-35-days-for-shelter-and-the-shooting-star-childrens-hospice/

TEDxLadbrokeGrove bio, £4.5m for 80-plus charities, archived April 8, 2021: https://web.archive.org/web/20210408135705/https:/tedxladbrokegrove.com/jason-arday

TEDxDurham talk, September 2021, “just over £5 million,” removed from TED in July 2026: https://web.archive.org/web/20230409123105/https:/www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbSX50Wfz6c

The Guardian profile, July 11, 2023, putting more than £5m into the paper of record: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2023/jul/11/jason-arday-cambridge-university-youngest-black-professor

The Cambridge Student, December 1, 2023: https://www.thecambridgestudent.co.uk/interviews/cambridges-youngest-black-professor-speaks-on-institutional-racism-and-legacies-of-slavery

National Autistic Society speaker announcement, February 15, 2024: https://www.autism.org.uk/what-we-do/news/jason-arday-announced-as-speaker

St Mary’s University honorary doctorate, July 19, 2024, £5.5m for over 80 charities: https://www.stmarys.ac.uk/news/2024/professor-jason-arday-awarded-honorary-doctorate-by-st-marys-university

The retroactive edits

Southampton Solent, archived May 19, 2025: https://web.archive.org/web/20250519232013/https://www.solent.ac.uk/media-hub/news/social-commentator-presenter-and-public-speaker-awarded-honorary-degree Same page, archived July 31, 2026, with “as part of several fundraising collectives” inserted: https://web.archive.org/web/20260731131040/https://www.solent.ac.uk/media-hub/news/social-commentator-presenter-and-public-speaker-awarded-honorary-degree

Anglia Ruskin honorary award citation, a transcript of a speech delivered in 2024. Archived October 8, 2024, with six hundred miles in six days: https://web.archive.org/web/20241008085619/https://www.aru.ac.uk/graduation-and-alumni/honorary-award-holders2/jason-arday Still unedited on February 28, 2026: https://web.archive.org/web/20260228093510/https://www.aru.ac.uk/graduation-and-alumni/honorary-award-holders2/jason-arday Edited by July 21, 2026 to read twelve days: https://web.archive.org/web/20260721205840/https://www.aru.ac.uk/graduation-and-alumni/honorary-award-holders2/jason-arday

Simon & Schuster speakers bureau, £5.5m and the running feats, archived September 10, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20240910182849/https://www.simonspeakers.com/author/arday-jason/ The same page after the quiet revision, archived July 24, 2025, more than a year before the public row: https://web.archive.org/web/20250724200957/https://www.simonspeakers.com/author/arday-jason/ Current version: https://www.simonspeakers.com/author/arday-jason/

The defense

Good Law Project, “Stand in solidarity with Jason Arday,” opened July 28, 2026, with the full list of signatories: https://goodlawproject.org/petition/stand-in-solidarity-with-jason-arday/

The memoir

Great and Unfortunate Things, by Jason Arday with Eve Claxton, Simon & Schuster, August 27, 2026: https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Great-and-Unfortunate-Things/Jason-Arday/9781668085578

Publisher stands by Jason Arday memoir amid plagiarism allegations,” UnHerd, July 29, 2026: https://unherd.com/newsroom/publisher-stands-by-jason-arday-memoir-amid-plagiarism-allegations/

Jason Arday’s publishers to ‘go ahead as planned’ despite plagiarism row,” The Bookseller, July 31, 2026: https://www.thebookseller.com/news/jason-ardays-publishers-to-go-ahead-as-planned-despite-plagiarism-row

Check It and Lose It

There is an old newsroom joke about the story too good to verify. Don’t make that last call. Check it and lose it.

Told as a joke it is about one reporter and his vanity. He has a good piece and he does not want to spoil it, so he stops asking. The moral runs toward character. Be the sort of man who makes the call.

That reading is too small, and it puts the burden in the wrong place. The same calculation runs at every desk the claim passes, and at most of those desks nobody is having any fun at all. A sub-editor, a press officer drafting an honorary degree citation, a conference programmer writing a speaker biography, a publisher’s lawyer doing a libel read, an advocacy group deciding whom to platform. Each faces the identical arithmetic, and the arithmetic does not require anybody to want anything.

Take the Jason Arday (b. 1985) case as the worked example. A JustGiving page from 2010 sat on the open internet recording £6,285 raised. The figure attached to his name climbed to £5.5 million across the following fourteen years, passing through a TEDx biography, a Guardian profile, four honorary degree citations, a National Autistic Society announcement, a publisher’s speakers bureau, and a corporate keynote in New Orleans. Nobody hacked anything. The page was searchable the entire time.

The standard account says the institutions wanted the story. They did. But wanting it was never necessary. Suppose every one of them had been indifferent to Arday, to diversity, to inspiration, to Cambridge. Suppose they were bored civil servants processing paper. The outcome does not change, because the payoffs do not change.

Here is what checking cost, and here is the part the collective-action literature gets right and then stops.

Verification is a public good. James T. Hamilton (b. 1961) laid out the economics in All the News That’s Fit to Sell: the checker pays the full cost and captures a fraction of the benefit, so checking gets undersupplied. Mancur Olson (1932-1998) would recognize the structure. Everybody benefits from an accurate public record. Nobody has a private reason to produce one.

That much is familiar. What the standard account misses is that checking and not checking do not merely differ in cost. They differ in what they leave you holding afterward.

An institution that repeats the Guardian’s figure holds a defense. If the number is wrong, the paper was wrong first, and the press officer behaved as press officers behave. An institution that opens the JustGiving page and finds £6,285 holds a discovery. It now knows something, and knowing creates obligations that not knowing does not. It cannot print the citation. It has to tell someone. It has to decide whether to withdraw an award, cancel a keynote, or pass the file upward, and every one of those choices makes an enemy in a field where the institution has to keep working.

So the four minutes is not the price. The price is the position the four minutes puts you in.

The law understands this better than journalism does. Willful blindness is treated as a form of knowledge in criminal doctrine precisely because deliberate avoidance is a rational strategy: a man who arranges not to learn what is in the suitcase has bought something of value. Institutions buy the same thing constantly and nobody calls it that. Ignorance has a book value, and in the Arday chain it was carried on everyone’s balance sheet for sixteen years.

The value went up as the claim traveled. This is the part that inverts.

A small claim about an unknown lecturer is cheap to check and worth little to anybody. A large claim about a Cambridge professor whose appointment the university has publicized as evidence about the university is expensive to check and worth a great deal to many parties. So the incentive to verify falls as the claim’s importance rises. Precisely where accuracy carries the most weight, the cost of establishing it peaks. A system built this way will get small things right and large things wrong, and it will look, from inside, like a system working well, because the small things are the ones it audits.

Now the second half, which is the part I have not seen stated.

Somebody eventually checks. Who is he?

He has to be a man for whom the discovery costs nothing, which means a man with nothing left in the field. Look at who did the checking here. A professor emeritus at Plymouth Marjon who had already been stripped of his title once and got it back. A philosopher sacked from a Cambridge fellowship, now in Belgium, known for opinions most of his profession finds repellent. A freelance journalist working the Internet Archive on his own time and posting to Substack. An anonymous blog. A small nonprofit that tracks retractions.

None of them had a career in British sociology of education to protect. That is not a coincidence and it is not a compliment. The population willing to bear the cost of verification is selected, by the cost structure, for marginality. The system is arranged so that the people who check are the people the field has already discarded.

And then the arrangement pays a second dividend. Because the checker is marginal, and often marginal for reasons the field finds discreditable, his check can be discounted on account of who he is. That is what happened in July 2026. Nathan Cofnas is a self-described race realist. Cambridge called the allegations a smear campaign. Thirteen thousand people signed a letter saying the claims were entirely false. The check bought the field another period of not knowing.

Notice what this does to the evidence. Anyone surveying the field sees a correlation: the people making these allegations tend to be cranks. The correlation is real and it is manufactured. It exists because the cost structure filters everyone else out, not because crankishness and correct textual comparison go together. Yet the correlation is then used, sincerely, as a reason to disbelieve the next allegation, which raises the cost to the next non-crank who might have made it, which strengthens the correlation.

The system produces its own grounds for ignoring its own findings.

It runs the other way too, and the symmetry is the strongest evidence that arithmetic rather than ideology is doing the work.

In February 2024 Cofnas published an essay citing internal Harvard data indicating that colorblind, academically based admissions would yield a student body around 0.7 percent Black, and inferred that the same criterion applied to hiring would drive the number of Black professors toward zero. A student petition then reported that he had written that in a meritocracy Harvard would have no Black professors. The Daily Mail printed that version inside quotation marks. An inference from a cited figure became a sentence he never wrote and a quotation he never gave, in two steps, in a matter of days.

Checking that would have taken about as long as opening the JustGiving page. Nobody did, and nobody had a reason to, because the beneficiary of the correction was a man none of the relevant institutions wanted to benefit. The costs sat on the checker and the gain sat with someone unwelcome, which is the same equation that protected Arday for sixteen years, solved in the opposite direction.

Anyone who thinks the failure is ideological has to explain why it produces errors that flatter and errors that damn with equal reliability.

England adds a further turn. Times Higher Education did the work. It assembled a sixty-three page dossier of text comparisons and had an outside reviewer go through it. Then Arday engaged Carter-Ruck, and the story died. The letter had force because the publication had something to publish. A publication that had never checked would have received no letter. Checking is what created the exposure, and the exposure is what got the story killed. In a jurisdiction where the publisher carries the burden, the uncheck is not merely cheaper. It is safer in a way the check can never be.

I want to be careful about what follows from this, because the obvious conclusion is wrong.

The obvious conclusion is that everything should be checked. It should not, and a norm of universal verification would do real damage. Documentation is not distributed evenly. A man who raised money through church halls and community groups in south London in 2005 has less paper than a man who did it through a City firm’s matched-giving scheme, and the difference tracks class and country rather than honesty. A blanket rule that unevidenced claims are false would fall hardest on people whose lives happened in places that keep no records. That is a genuine cost and anyone arguing for more verification has to carry it.

The answer is proportion, and the proportion runs on a specific axis. Check in relation to the weight the institution intends the claim to bear. Nobody needs to audit a lecturer’s biography. Everybody should audit a figure the institution is converting into evidence about itself. The moment Cambridge published Arday’s story as a statement about Cambridge, the story stopped being his and became the university’s, and the duty attached at that moment.

Which produces the uncomfortable formulation. The duty to verify rises exactly where the cost of verifying rises. They are the same variable. There is no arrangement in which the incentive and the obligation point the same way, so the obligation has to be imposed against the incentive or it will not be met.

Some of that imposition is cheap.

Require a source line. An honorary degree citation could carry, in the file if not in the hall, a note saying where each factual claim came from. Not verification, only provenance, which costs the drafter nothing and makes the difference between a checked claim and a repeated one visible to the next person down the chain. Most of the Arday figures would have collapsed at this stage, because the provenance of all of them was the same man.

Put the receipt on the claimant. Grant applications already work this way. A speaker who says he raised five and a half million can be asked which charities and which years, and the asking is not an accusation.

Preserve the record when you correct it. Anglia Ruskin edited a page that transcribed a speech delivered aloud in 2024, so the page now misreports what a room full of people heard. That edit cost nothing and destroyed something. Corrections should append, never overwrite. This is the single cheapest reform available to any institution and almost none of them observe it.

Credit the checker. Retraction Watch sleuths work unpaid and get called harassers. Journals list reviewers. Universities count peer review as service. Verification of public claims sits outside every reward structure that exists, which is why it is done by people with no career to feed.

Lower the cost of the first check. That is a libel reform argument and I am not a lawyer, so I will put it only as an observation: in the current arrangement, the publication that does the work is more exposed than the publication that does not, and any account of why British institutions fail to check has to include that before it reaches for anything about ideology.

None of this requires anyone to have wanted anything.

That is the point I would press hardest, because the ideological explanation is available, popular, and probably partly true, and it lets everyone in the chain off. If the failure was ideological, then the remedy is to have better opinions, and everybody already believes he has those. If the failure was arithmetical, the remedy is to change the arithmetic, which is harder and duller and would actually work.

The joke says check it and lose it, and it is told as a warning about the reporter who wants to keep his story. The truer version is that everyone downstream of him wants to keep it too, and none of them had to want anything at all.

The Sentence Nobody Wrote

Three sentences, in order of appearance.

Harvard’s Office of Institutional Research ran a study in 2013 finding that if the university admitted on academic qualifications alone, the undergraduate body would be 43 percent Asian, 38.4 percent white, 2.4 percent Hispanic and 0.7 percent Black. The study became public through the litigation brought by Students for Fair Admissions.

In February 2024, Nathan Cofnas cited that figure and drew an inference. If faculty were recruited on the same criterion, the number of Black professors would approach zero.

A student petition at Cambridge then reported that Cofnas had written that in a meritocracy Harvard would have no Black professors. The Daily Mail printed that version inside quotation marks.

I am not adjudicating the hereditarian argument Cofnas was making. What interests me is the two steps between the second sentence and the third, because each step took about a day, each was performed by people who may have acted in good faith, and each made the claim more usable and less true.

Start with what kind of object each sentence is.

The first is a datum. It belongs to Harvard. It was produced by Harvard’s own researchers about Harvard’s own admissions, and it can be attacked on grounds available to anyone: a simulation is not an outcome, an academic index is a narrow definition of qualification, Harvard’s experts disputed how the plaintiffs read the numbers. All of those are arguments, and all of them are arguments with Harvard.

The second is an inference. It belongs to Cofnas. It has a premise and a conditional attached, and the conditional is where the work happens. If faculty hiring used this criterion. It does not, and the inference is weak for reasons that require no hereditarian commitment at all. Harvard hires professors from a global pool of doctorates, not from its own undergraduate class. Faculty appointment weighs publication, teaching, funding and field, none of which reduce to an admissions index. The undergraduate cohort of 2013 is not the professoriate of 2050. A serious critic could take the inference apart in a paragraph while conceding every number in it.

The third belongs to nobody. Cofnas did not write it. Harvard did not produce it. It was made in transit.

Watch what got lost. The conditional went first. “If hiring used the same criterion as academically blind admissions” became “in a meritocracy,” which asserts that the criterion and merit are the same thing, an equation Cofnas would probably accept but which he had not stated in the sentence being quoted. Then the hedge went. “Would approach zero” became “no black professors,” which converts an asymptote into a count.

Both changes run the same direction. Conditionals disappear, absolutes remain. That is not random drift. A conditional is a burden on the speaker and a nuisance to the repeater, and the repeater is the one editing. A claim shortened for reuse loses its qualifications first, because qualifications are the part nobody quotes.

Conditionals are also the part that makes a claim checkable. Strip them and you get a sentence that is easier to circulate and impossible to test, which is the combination that lets a claim run for years.

Now the quotation marks, which are a technology for moving liability. Inside them, the writer stops asserting and starts reporting. If the sentence is false, the fault belongs to the man who said it. The paper is merely accurate about what was said. Those two small hooks are the cheapest insurance available in the trade, and they cost nothing to apply.

When a subject is well defended, quoting him wrongly is expensive, because he will produce the original and demand a correction and possibly a lawyer. When a subject is friendless, the insurance is free. Cofnas in February 2024 had a petition against him with a thousand signatures, a faculty chair distancing herself, and a director of African studies telling the student paper that employing him was like keeping a flat-earther on the physics faculty. Nobody was going to make trouble on his behalf.

So the quotation marks appeared over a sentence he never wrote, at the moment he had least capacity to object, which is the moment the marks give the least protection to the reader and the most to the writer.

Here is the part that should trouble his critics.

The false version was easier to fight.

“Cofnas says Harvard would have no Black professors in a meritocracy” is a bigot’s assertion. It requires no engagement. You denounce it, you circulate it, you sign the petition.

The true version says Harvard’s own institutional researchers, examining Harvard’s own admissions, found that a purely academic criterion would produce a class less than one percent Black, and asks what follows. Answering that requires arguing about a real number produced by the institution under discussion. It requires saying what the number means, whether the simulation was sound, why academic index is or is not a reasonable proxy for anything, and what the gap between 0.7 and 10.5 percent is evidence of. Those are hard arguments and there are good answers available in several directions.

The misquotation spared everyone from having to make them.

Misquotation is often self-protective. It converts a claim you would have to answer into an opinion you can denounce, and the conversion feels like a victory over the opponent while functioning as an escape from him. The man who paraphrases his enemy into something stupider has not defeated the argument. He has arranged never to meet it.

There is a control case sitting right beside this one. A month before the essay that caused the trouble, Cofnas published another arguing that people on the political right are on average less intelligent than people on the left. Same author, same method, same premises about heritable variation in cognitive ability, applied to a different group. No petition. No march. No faculty statement. No headline.

Whatever the objection to his method was, the method was not the objection.

The rest ran the way these things run. He stepped back from teaching. Students posted flyers with his face across Cambridge. A crowd marched through the town chanting his name. He lost his research associateship at Emmanuel College. In October 2025, twenty months later, Cambridge dismissed all fifty-eight student complaints against him and found no discrimination or harassment.

Then, in July 2026, he published a set of side-by-side comparisons between Jason Arday’s 2015 doctoral thesis and a thesis submitted six years earlier by Paula Zwozdiak-Myers.

And the sentence he never wrote came back.

It appeared in nearly every account of the plagiarism allegations, usually as the clause that told the reader what to think before he reached the evidence. The man making the accusation is the man who said there would be no Black professors in a meritocracy. Cambridge called the allegations a smear campaign. Thirteen thousand people signed a letter saying they were entirely false.

Two more academics, David Sanders at Purdue and John Preston at Essex, went through the comparisons independently and reached the same conclusion Cofnas had. Times Higher Education had assembled a sixty-three page dossier before Cofnas published anything. None of that traveled as fast as the clause.

Errors of this kind do not fade. They sit in the record at zero cost until a moment arrives when somebody needs them, and then they get spent. The 2024 misquotation was manufactured by people with no thought of 2026, and in 2026 it did more to protect a plagiarism claim than any argument advanced on the merits.

This is the ordinary way false attributions behave, and it is why the cheapness of making them is the wrong thing to look at. The cost of a misquotation is not paid at the moment of publication. It is paid years later, by whoever needed the truth and got the clause instead.

A datum belongs to whoever produced it. An inference belongs to whoever drew it, along with the conditionals he attached. A sentence with quotation marks around it belongs to whoever is inside them, and if nobody is inside them, the marks are a forgery of a small and respectable kind.

The small and respectable kind is the one that travels.

Notes

Harvard’s Office of Institutional Research produced the 2013 internal study finding that admissions on academic qualifications alone would yield an undergraduate body 43 percent Asian, 38.4 percent white, 2.4 percent Hispanic and 0.7 percent Black. The study became public through Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard. A convenient summary of the figures: https://newcriterion.com/article/harvard-admits-its-preferences/

Two limits. The study models a counterfactual rather than reporting an outcome, and Harvard’s own experts disputed how the plaintiffs read it. And the academic index is a narrow construction of qualification.

The scholarship built on the released case data, for anyone who wants the underlying material rather than the summaries: Peter Arcidiacono, Josh Kinsler and Tyler Ransom, “Recruit to Reject? Harvard and African American Applicants,” https://tyleransom.github.io/research/recruit_reject.pdf and “What the Students for Fair Admissions Cases Reveal About Racial Preferences,” NBER working paper 29964, https://www.nber.org/papers/w29964 and “Asian American Discrimination in Harvard Admissions,” NBER working paper 27068, https://www.nber.org/system/files/working_papers/w27068/w27068.pdf Arcidiacono served as an expert witness for the plaintiffs, which the reader should weigh and which does not settle anything either way.

Contemporaneous reporting on the plaintiffs’ claims, including the allegation that Harvard had shelved its own 2013 findings: https://feeds.bbci.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-44505355

The inference

Nathan Cofnas, “A Guide for the Hereditarian Revolution,” February 2024: https://ncofnas.com/p/a-guide-for-the-hereditarian-revolution The essay containing the Harvard citation and the inference drawn from it. Read it before accepting anyone’s summary of it, including mine.

Nathan Cofnas, “Why We Need to Talk about the Right’s Stupidity Problem,” January 2, 2024: https://ncofnas.com/p/why-we-need-to-talk-about-the-rights The control case. Same author, same premises about heritable variation in cognitive ability, applied to conservatives, published five weeks earlier, and attracting no petition, no march and no faculty statement.

Nathan Cofnas, “Research on Group Differences in Intelligence: A Defense of Free Inquiry,” Philosophical Psychology, 2020: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/09515089.2019.1697803 The peer-reviewed article that drew an earlier campaign against him, useful for establishing that the pattern predates Cambridge.

The quotation

Abhishek Saha, “A Heretic Reprieved,” Quillette, October 16, 2025: https://quillette.com/2025/10/16/a-heretic-reprieved-nathan-cofnas-cambridge-university-free-speech/ The source for the gap between what the essay says and what the petition alleged, for the migration of the allegation into a Daily Mail headline inside quotation marks, and for Cambridge’s dismissal of all fifty-eight student complaints.

The student petition: https://www.petitions.com/petition_to_terminate_employment_of_controversial_fellow_nathan_cofnas_at_the_university_of_cambridge

The Daily Mail report: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-13060909/cambridge-university-fellow-race-equality-controversy.html

Varsity’s coverage, including Angela Breitenbach’s statement for the philosophy faculty and Bronwen Everill’s comparison to keeping a flat-earther on the physics faculty: https://www.varsity.co.uk/news/27035 Emmanuel’s master Doug Chalmers on free expression: https://www.varsity.co.uk/news/27106 The earlier attempt to remove Cofnas on his arrival in 2022.

Cambridge’s finding that the views did not amount to discrimination or harassment, October 2025: https://www.thetimes.com/uk/education/article/cambridge-says-academics-offensive-race-views-were-free-speech-pn955dn2x

On whether the underlying question is settled

Clark et al. surveyed 470 psychology professors at leading American universities, asking them to rate from zero to a hundred their confidence that genetic differences explain a non-trivial share of race differences in intelligence test scores. Responses spanned the scale with a mean of 29.1: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/17456916241252085. The essay’s argument about attribution does not depend on which side of it a reader stands.

What the clause was later used for

Nathan Cofnas, “DEI Fraud and Cover-Up at Cambridge,” July 21, 2026.

Exclusive: News outlet killed story on plagiarism allegations after Cambridge prof hired law firm,” Retraction Watch, July 27, 2026: https://retractionwatch.com/2026/07/27/cambridge-jason-arday-plagiarism-allegations-times-higher-education-exclusive/ Source for the sixty-three page dossier assembled by Times Higher Education in September 2025, and for David Sanders reaching the same conclusion independently.

Good Law Project, “Stand in solidarity with Jason Arday,” July 2026.

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Anthony Fauci’s Diary

A diary that matched the press conferences would serve no purpose. People keep them to say what they can’t say at the podium, and a man under sustained attack writes down that he thinks his attackers are crazy. The mockery of the fame material is cheap in the same way. Piers Morgan (b. 1965) called him a fame-hungry narcissist, which describes most people who spend forty years climbing to the top of a federal agency and then find themselves on television every night. Vanity in a diary is a weak charge.

Wanting to be loved is one thing. Saying one thing in private and another in public about a factual question you are the government’s chief authority on is another. Rand Paul (b. 1963) claims the diaries show what Fauci (b. 1940) wrote privately and what he told the country are two different stories. Whether they show that is the live question, and it survives even if every word about Jake Tapper and the cameras gets thrown out. James Carville (b. 1944) says the release taught the public nothing and that Fauci was an honest man handling a once-in-a-millennium problem. Those two readings can be tested against the text. The vanity charge can’t be tested against anything, because everyone loses it.

Two complications for whichever side you land on. The diary sat on HHS servers, so it was never a private notebook in a drawer, and Fauci wrote about the FOIA requests coming at him. He knew the exposure. Against that, he pleaded the Fifth 111 times at the hearing and said the unredacted release was aimed at embarrassing and intimidating him. A man who took the Fifth 111 times has told you something.

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How I Use AI

AI helped me with this post. AI alone could not have produced this post. I alone could not have produced this post.

Much of my thinking is inspired by my conversations, and many of them these days are with AI chatbots. For some people, chatting with AI produces delusion. For others, it produces insight. I hope I’m primarily in the latter category, but I am sure I am in both categories.

AI has changed my blogging over the past fifteen months. I find the machine helps me to clarify, organize, challenge and develop my thoughts and then it suggests ways I can share them that are more socially acceptable than I would come up with on my own (my instinct toward the reader is often f— ’em if they can’t take a joke). On the other hand, I’ve posted many mediocre AI-based posts as placeholders for ideas I want to develop later, and I have yet to come back to them to add value. Meanwhile, they just sit there and clog up my blog. My ambitions exceed my capabilities, and my aims exceed my energy.

Yet they sit there and they embarrass me and they push me and my heart says attention must be paid. Attention will be paid.

And miles to go before I sleep.

This post began when I put the following into Claude:

Most of my blogging is inspired by my conversations, and some of them are with AI chatbots. My blogging over the past 15 months has been shaped by my use of AI. I use AI because it helps me develop my thoughts, organize my thoughts, challenge my thoughts, and suggests new paths for my thoughts to travel. I’ve never been much good at writing essays. I rebel at stating arguments, supporting arguments, and noting the weaknesses of my arguments. I think I do better at describing things, but frankly, I really don’t know why my writing works, when it works, except that I enjoy reading it (in the browser form rather than in the composition window). If i enjoy reading my work, I think it makes a contribution. I have many blind spots. I naturally say ugly and embarrassing things. I constantly contradict myself, often within the same argument, and my own sense of what works is not reliable. I have many limitations in my knowledge of myself and of the world. AI helps me to do better. On the other hand, a pure cut and paste of my conversations with various AI chatbots usually provides less value than when I labor over a post. AI makes many mistakes, and I often disagree with its judgments which tend to be trained on left-leaning elite production (AI won’t easily admit that different groups have different interests and different gifts, and that expanding civil rights for some comes at a cost to others, and that humans are animals subject to similar evolutionary forces that govern the rest of nature). I hope I am not proud. If AI says something better than I can, I use AI’s formulation. I think of my blog posts as broken twigs indicating a path. If there’s a reasonable chance that my post adds value, I put it out there, and then over months and years, I revisit the topic and the sources and develop my thoughts (which become clearer through the passage of time and through conversations with people, with texts, and with AI chat bots). My initial efforts are usually mediocre. Over time, I learn from reading, thinking, talking and listening. I have many friends in academia. I like to bounce ideas off them and learn from their feedback.

I’ve never good at writing essays. I rebel at stating arguments and supporting them. I think I do better, at times, at describing things. Beyond that, I don’t know why my writing works when it works. I know that I sometimes enjoy reading it, and when I do, it is in the browser rather than in the composition window. The change of frame and of time lets me read as a stranger reads. If I then enjoy my work in that form, I think it’s good.

What is about reading in the browser window that gives me a different experience? I think I associate the composition window with work and the browser window with pleasure, and when I do not receive pleasure from what I see in the browser window, I know I need to go back to the composition window and either delete or revise or make it private. The browser window lacks distractions such as html and so I demand that what I see there add value to me or it is a waste of my time.

Looking at something with fresh eyes makes an enormous difference. I write, then I step away, and when I come back, I see things more clearly. I find there’s no substitution for talking with people, particularly those with knowledge in a topic. Having to say things out loud is a different experience from reading and writing. Hearing my ideas is another experience. Working with the ideas in a different context than I composed them also gives me a fresh frame. For example, almost everything that disturbs me in Los Angeles does not bother me in Sydney. When I am giddy, I say reckless things because I feel like there are no consequences for my words. When I feel vulnerable, I want to put nothing into the world that increases my vulnerability. So my changes in emotional state change how I see my work.

I have many blind spots. I say ugly and embarrassing things. I contradict myself, often inside the same argument, and my sense of what works fails me as often as it serves me. AI helps me do better.

I do unusual posts because I don’t have a boss. I also do terrible posts because I don’t have a boss. Operating out where the buses don’t run no more has advantage and disadvantages. Used appropriately, AI reminds me of the rules in polite society that by virtue of my lone star status, I often forget.

I’ve written for employers. That writing bends to what they want, not what I want. Often that discipline is good for my work.

A cut and paste of my AI chats gives readers less than a post I labor over. If I run an idea through the machine, take the insights that beat mine, throw out the rest, and go read the source it summarized, I will likely value to the topic. Then I do that again a week later. And then a year later.

AI makes mistakes. AI is wordy. It’s not X but Y formulation is tiresome. AI is repetitive. Its didactic. Its PC. Its judgments come trained on elite production that leans left. So I use a tool built out of the consensus I spend my life questioning. I respect the formulation when the formulation is better than mine, which is often.

I think of my blog posts as broken twigs marking a trail. If there’s a chance a post adds value, and my standards are here are low, I give it to the world, and allow its mediocrity to drive me to revisit it as quickly and deeply as possible. Then over months and years I keep coming back to the topic and to the sources, and my thinking gets clearer through reading, through talking with people, and texts, and bots. My first drafts don’t set the world on fire, but I have friends in academia who tell me where I can improve, and then I go back and I break another twig a little further along, and sometimes I come out on this magnificent clearing and I feel like a million dollars.

Claude says: “The labor paragraph needs your actual process, not my guess at it. Name what you do between the chat and the post. How many passes. What you delete first. Whether you paste your own prose in and ask for objections, or write clean and check after. Readers who use AI want that paragraph more than any other in the piece, and nobody has written it honestly.”

My posts spring from meetings (either between my mind and the world, myself and a man, myself and a text, myself and a bot). I write because I want to learn. Often it is more convenient to ask a bot than a man. The bot gives me an answer and I sometimes have the basis for a post. I often start with sharing a socially survivable presentation of my rude instinct that triggered. While I strive to optimize for truth when talking publicly, my blog is not a death warrant. I live in society. I want to survive everything I write. I often don’t realize how hurtful my words are, and AI helps me tone them down to something more socially acceptable.

The AI bot gives me the conventional elite opinion with links to academic works. I reduce the bot’s words to about a third by cutting what’s extraneous and then I have something work with and against. Like my father, I have an instinct that the outside world is the enemy to debunk.

The triggered I am, the more energy I feel, and the more productive I become.

If an expert finds that my work adds value, I sit up like I am a king.

If nobody smart engaged with my blog, I’d give up.

I often post my feeling to begin my posts and then follow with the conventional wisdom as articulated by AI or elite media, and after that, I try to add value. I might analyze how different bots answer the same question. I might analyze how incentives structure elite opinion. I come up with frames, or ask bots to come up with frames, that help to understand the problem from different angles. For example, I find that the anthropology of John Mearsheimer and David Pinsof often cuts through nonsense.

If a topic fascinates me, I want the best academic perspective. One way I do that is by getting the dispositive books and papers from AI and then reading or listening to them through Perlego and other sources. I began subscribing to Perlego in July of 2025, and since then I’ve used it about 5-15 hours a week and reduced my listening to podcasts by spending more time on academic books read by a beautiful female English AI-generated accent at 2X. For six months, about 40% of what I listened to on Perlego was evolutionary psychology and Stephen Turner. Over the past two weeks, most of what I’ve listened to is Stanley Fish.

I’m a status-seeking primate. When I get the handle on the academic consensus on a topic, I talk to people and bots about where this consensus is hemmed in by social incentives, and where a truth-optimizing approach might go. I feel good when I feel like I have made a contribution. I don’t feel any pride when I post something that does not contribute, but that mediocre work sometimes incentivizes better work down the line. I hope so.

I wish I were more meticulous. I wish I posted fewer mediocre words. I have a productivity drive that is not closely correlated with quality. Frankly, my internal machine produces a ton of embarrassing words that are indefensible, and that is another reason I need friends and AI to check and challenge me. People and bots do not normally do this. I have to train them to call me out. Most people do not have the energy. My therapists asked me why I repeatedly challenged and exhausted the people I need most. Bots have more patience with me.

When people tell me my AI-improved work is terrible, I usually avoid arguing with them, instead, I say to myself, history will judge me!

Often I need to have a conversation right away (my dad said to always use the moment of excited interest to pursue something) and bots are the easiest parties to do that with.

The smartest voices condemning the use of AI in writing make good points but they rarely admit the benefits of AI. Many of their arguments against AI would have been improved by engaging with AI. I’ll be straight with you. I can’t conceive of any important writing that would not benefit from an AI check. For other people, engaging with AI deforms and devalues their work. All choices are trade-offs. Often that which sustains us also destroys us.

I care most about value and truth. If using an editor or a fax machine or email or a computer or AI improves your ability to locate and articulate truth, thus adding value to the reader, then that is great. If the use of these things detracts from your ability to locate and articulate truth, then that is bad.

A new way I’ve been using AI over the past month is to embed relevant citations in my text. I often post my raw work into ChatGPT and ask it to put book titles in italics, articles in quotes, and to add value to the reader by embedding relevant links, but to only add links after checking that they exist (Gemini makes up too many links, ChatGPT does this less).

ChatGPT has gotten much better over the past month. I even canceled my subscription about six months ago. I then renewed it, but was on the verge of unsubscribing until a few weeks ago.

If I were to manually insert citation links into my text, it would take such a large amount of time, I wouldn’t do as much of it as I should. By using ChatGPT to do this, I add enormous value to the reader with little effort on my part.

I used AI to help me develop my Rabbi Shlomo Grossbard series. I began by asking it about an Orthodox rabbi who embodied many of Stanley Fish’s most amusing qualities. AI offered me many examples of where I could take these stories, but it had little feel for the reality of Orthodox life. Its suppositions were often off by a mile.

I’d start with a topic I wanted to explore — an Orthodox rabbi at Hollywood parties, an Orthodox rabbi dealing with drug overdoses in his community, affinity fraud, high stakes poker game, Israeli mafia, and the like. I’d ask AI for scenarios consistent with the character I was developing. I’d choose one to develop.

I am a status-seeking primate. You should take it for granted that I am over-stating my contributions. You know I have an ego to protect. You know I think I am more important than I am.

I often console myself that I am the mad man of literary tropes who says out loud painful truths that sane people with lives to protect would not pronounce.

I am rarely an ethical exemplar. I’m selfish and lazy. There are many wiser, smarter and more ethical people than me talking about AI.

I hope I add value that exceeds the price of what I post.

AI is like Jeffrey Toobin on steroids. It tends to make sweeping judgments that are ridiculous but captivating. Watch out whenever a bot tells you about the best this, the last that, the sharpest argument. AI often uses refute when it should say rebut.

I hate AI’s overstatement and overuse of “itself,” “rather than,” “this is not,” “does not,” “are not,” “was not,” “not because,” “without,” “would,” “whole,” “precise,” “shape,” “important,” “structural,” “real,” “plain,” “clearest,” “sharpest,” “purist,” “purest,” “without,” etc. As of August 1, 2026, I write more concisely than the four big AI bots (Claude, ChatGPT, Gemini and Grok). On the other hand, I rarely write something that is not improved by their critique. Without their help, my essays usually fail as essays because I do not find that form suited to my skills. I regularly got Cs and Bs in English classes that required essays and As in English classes where the teachers allowed me more room to roam.

Every AI-generated essay I’ve read would be improved by editing from a man with top five percent verbal skills, and most human-generated essays I’ve read would be improved by an AI critique (whether or not that improvement leads the writer towards bad habits of giving up more and more of his prose to AI is a live but separate question, btw, prior to AI, I don’t think I ever wrote “live question”). The more raw the argument, the more it needs an AI check.

The same words land differently with different communities, most of which I know little about. AI warns me about landmines in my prose that cut against my interests and my arguments.

When I ask AI to summarize the main points of a book, essay or video, it often finds things that I would miss, and it often misses things that I’d find. AI bots consistently find holes in my arguments and I consistently find holes in their arguments. AI faulty logic aligns with what is convenient for the AI businesses.

What I find interesting in books, essays and events is rarely what the AI bots find interesting. At the same time, what the bot finds interesting is usually something I consider and note in my essay.

Reality always wins. The reality in 2026 is that the use of AI will improve a man’s writing, and much of the time, it will phrase things better than the man can, and the man will follow incentives and will use uncredited what AI does better than he does, and trying to legislate against this is living by lies (unless you’re talking about people in the top 1% of intellectual life who have enormous status to lose if they are caught using AI wording).

If you read work you cannot produce, you can learn from it and make it your own going forward though that takes effort that is not always congenial. When I’m moved by AI phrasing and argument, I try to figure out why it works and then adapt it for my own ends.

I tend to use minimal transitions and attentive readers often tell me that I failed to mention, let alone explicate key points. I’d taken them for granted because they were lodged in my head and I had forgotten about the reader. AI helps me with these problems. It will tell me the things I missed along the way. AI is heavy on transitions and logical development and I need this. I don’t like to wave a flag before the reader and tell him what to think. AI can’t stop doing this. It must constantly pronounce on what is important and what is worthy and what is decisive, and on this AI is lousy and consistently wrong, and my minimalist instincts are better suited to my interests.

AI and I rarely share hero systems.

The wholesale adoption of AI argument and prose will usually be inferior to what the good writer can produce.

AI doesn’t know who sat where at kiddush. It can’t call a source. It has no stake in your neighborhood and no memory of what the rabbi said in 2009.

People did not evolve to be gullible with regard to their vital interests. As long as reality incentivizes them to use AI and then to lie about it, that is what they will do.

The fault is not in AI. It is in ourselves. Not everybody equally suited to the appropriate use of new technology. Different eras will produce different winners and losers. I started blogging in 1997. I was born to blog, as Rob Eshman put it. For people with more status than me, blogging and posting on social media is dangerous for their well-being.

I imagine myself using AI as a value-add. Many of my readers disagree. They hate the turn in my blog since April 2025. They are not wrong. They came to my blog for my personality, for the raw posting, which is now largely gone. In its place, is something different, perhaps more polished, more academic, and often more generic and lifeless.

A writer who puts the reader first will have less of a problem using a machine’s sentence rather than his own if that better serves the reader. On the other hand, the ease of using AI wording leads many to do more of the easy thing, and a model trained on the median of published English will pull any writer toward the median. The writer’s value comes from the places you sit off it.

So when you read something on my blog since May 2025 that sits in the median, that’s likely AI. And when you read something off the median, that’s me.

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Christine Hayes and the Question Underneath

Sometime in 1995 a book arrived that had her name in the title. Are the Talmuds Interchangeable? Christine Hayes’s Blunder. One hundred sixty-six pages, plus a twenty-nine-page introduction. Scholars Press, Atlanta. The author was Jacob Neusner (1932–2016), then the most published scholar in the humanities, a man with hundreds of volumes to his name who had done this before to Adin Steinsaltz and would do it again to others, who kept an attorney on retainer to warn critics that their reviews looked like libel, and who was known to close his letters with instructions to drop dead.

Christine Hayes (b. December 6, 1960) was thirty-four. She was an assistant professor of Hebrew studies at Princeton, two years out of Berkeley, without tenure. Her first book had not yet appeared. What Neusner had read was the dissertation.

She answered him in the Journal for the Study of Judaism in 1996 and again in an appendix to the book when Oxford published it in 1997. The appendix carries the title “Response to Jacob Neusner.” The book won the Salo Baron Prize for a first book in Jewish thought and literature. Twenty-six years later, when Yale read out the tribute at her retirement, the dean’s office noted that a dissertation had so electrified the field that a leading scholar published an entire volume against it, and placed her, in the tribute’s phrase, “at the head of your field.”

That is her career. She takes a technical problem, finds a larger problem sleeping inside it, and says so in a way that makes established people either furious or persuaded, sometimes in that order.

The route in was accidental. Hayes was born in the United States to Australian parents who moved often. When she was eleven the family went home, first to Sydney, then to Adelaide, where she finished school. She credits her parents’ appetite for philosophy, religion, literature, and other people’s cultures with forming her own.

She came back to America for Harvard and studied religion. At some point she wandered into Hillel and began teaching herself to read Hebrew. In 1982 she stopped her degree and went to volunteer on an Israeli kibbutz. She finished the B.A. summa cum laude in March 1984, spent two years working in the nonprofit world, and returned to school in 1986, entering Berkeley’s Department of Near Eastern Studies.

One story from the Harvard years circulates among her students, and Shlomo Zuckier, who wrote his dissertation under her, tells it as legend. She told Isadore Twersky (1930–1997), the Littauer Professor at Harvard and the Talner Rebbe of Boston, that she wanted to study the intellectual history of the Talmud with the same rigor he brought to medieval Jewish thought. Twersky told her it could not be done. She then spent a career doing it.

Take the story as a story. What it preserves is a temperament. She heard an authoritative no and treated it as a research program.

Berkeley in the late 1980s was a good place to be told what was possible. Her advisor was Daniel Boyarin (b. 1946), who was breaking rabbinic literature open to literary theory, cultural studies, and comparative religion. She also worked with Jacob Milgrom (1923–2010), the Leviticus scholar, whose priestly purity system would supply the raw material for her second book. In 1987–88 she went to the Hebrew University in Jerusalem as an exchange student and studied with Yaakov Sussmann (b. 1931)

Those two educations do not obviously belong to the same person. Boyarin forces distant bodies of thought into collision. Sussmann counts words in Genizah fragments. Hayes took both and produced a third thing: controlled comparison. She separates categories other people have run together, follows the split through individual passages, and only then reaches for a large claim.

The dissertation, published as Between the Babylonian and Palestinian Talmuds: Accounting for Halakhic Difference in Selected Sugyot from Tractate Avodah Zarah, worked on a problem everyone in the field agreed was central. The Jerusalem Talmud and the Babylonian Talmud sometimes inherit related material and reach different legal results. Why?

The available answer was history. Rabbis in Roman Palestine and rabbis in Sasanian Babylonia lived under different empires, different economies, different neighbors, different religious competitors. Different worlds, different law.

Hayes said the field reached for that answer too fast. Working through parallel passages in tractate Avodah Zarah, she showed that a legal divergence can come from causes inside the texts. The two Talmuds may hold different versions of the Mishnah. A Mishnaic sentence may contain a gap that each Talmud fills differently. The Bavli pursues a theory of verbal economy, assuming that legal language carries maximum information in minimum words, and that assumption generates rulings the Yerushalmi never produces. Editors pursue different dialectical strategies. Material passes through different hands.

Only after those possibilities are exhausted should a scholar say that Persia or Rome caused the difference.

The point was run the internal analysis first and the historical inference gets stronger, because a divergence that survives every textual and hermeneutical explanation becomes evidence about the world outside the study house. Knowing how a Talmud normally makes law is what lets you notice when it has done something strange.

Neusner read this as an attack on his own program and answered with a book. The Jewish Quarterly Review called her formulations incisive and often elegant, and said the work should correct some recent scholarship. Yale’s tribute later reported that her account of the divergences became the accepted one.

The second book took a rule about ritual purity and turned it into a theory of who counts as a Jew.

Gentile Impurities and Jewish Identities: Intermarriage and Conversion from the Bible to the Talmud appeared from Oxford in 2002. Earlier scholarship often wrote as though ancient Jews regarded gentiles as ritually impure and therefore kept away from them. Hayes argued that this collapses several different things into one word.

Following Jonathan Klawans, she separated ritual impurity from moral impurity. Ritual impurity is temporary, non-moral, and contagious by contact: a corpse, a flow, a menstruant. Moral impurity attaches to grave sin and does not transfer by touch. No biblical text, on this reading, treats gentiles as ritually impure. What Leviticus 18 ascribes to them is moral defilement, which is a function of conduct.

Then she added a third category of her own. Genealogical impurity attaches to descent. It is a property of offspring. In the Pentateuch and Ezekiel it constrains priests, who may not marry certain women because the seed must stay unmixed. Ezra and Nehemiah take the priestly rule and extend it to all Israel. The whole nation becomes holy seed. Under that logic, intermarriage becomes defilement for everyone, and Nehemiah purifies the community by separating out the foreign wives.

Once the categories are pulled apart, arguments about impurity stop being arguments about ritual. They become competing theories of what a Jew is, and each theory sets a different price on the border.

A temporary ritual condition washes off. A moral defilement depends on behavior and can be renounced. A genealogical defect sits in the ancestry and cannot be washed, renounced, or argued away. So the question of whether a gentile can become a Jew turns on which kind of impurity you think stands in the way.

Hayes traced the consequences from the Bible through the Second Temple sects, Qumran, Josephus, Philo, the New Testament, and the rabbis. Communities that made the boundary genealogical closed it. Communities that made it moral or ritual left a door. Oxford’s summary says differing views of gentile impurity and the permeability of Jewish identity fed both Second Temple sectarianism and the eventual separation of Christianity from rabbinic Judaism.

The book was a finalist for the 2003 National Jewish Book Award. It also moved her out of Talmud studies. The question was no longer how a passage developed. The question was how legal categories manufacture a people.

In 2003 the Mellon Foundation gave her a New Directions Fellowship, and in 2005–06 she spent the year at Yale Law School learning legal history and legal theory. She had studied how rabbinic law works. She had studied how it builds insiders and outsiders. Now she went after the thing underneath both: what does anyone mean when he calls a law divine?

In November 2005, midway through that year, she gave a talk to the fellows of the Whitney Humanities Center and repeated it to the fellows of Silliman College. The title was “The Talmudic Martin Guerre, or Death of a Legal Fiction.”

A man goes on a journey. He does not come back. A credible report reaches the court that he is dead. Two witnesses testify. The court accepts the testimony and releases his wife to remarry, which she does. Then the first husband walks back into town, alive.

By the rules, disaster follows. She is an adulteress. She must leave the second man. Her children by him are mamzerim. The Mishnah will not let her return to the first husband either, since she has been with another. A woman who did everything the law told her to do is ruined by the law’s own procedure.

Rav, the third-century Babylonian sage, proposed a way out that the Yerushalmi records. If she remarried on the testimony of two witnesses, then when the first husband returns, the court says to him: you are not him.

Not “you appear to be dead.” Not “we were mistaken.” You are not him. The man is standing in the room. The court declares him a stranger.

The Yerushalmi squirms. What if he is a well-known figure, someone everybody recognizes? Are there not many men who resemble a well-known figure? A case comes before the rabbis and they tell the man he is not himself. An old man whispers to him to give her a divorce document just in case, and Rav’s students beat him for it. Rabbi Imi, handling a similar case, tells the second husband that the marriage stands and the children are illegitimate before Heaven, which is a compromise that hands the ruling to human law and the truth to God.

And the Bavli reports that in the West, in the Land of Israel, they laughed at Rav. The man came back. He is standing right here. And you say there is no need for a divorce.

Hayes published on that laughter in 2013, in the Journal of Law, Religion and State, under the title “‘In the West, They Laughed at Him’: The Babylonian Talmud’s Mocking Realists.” Her argument was that the recurring motif of mocking westerners lets Babylonian editors voice their own misgivings about the anti-realist side of rabbinic law: the legal fictions, the contrary-to-fact presumptions, the heavy weighting of intention, the readings that ignore context. Somebody inside the tradition noticed that the law had come loose from the world, and the tradition kept a record of the joke.

What’s Divine about Divine Law? Early Perspectives came out from Princeton in 2015 and made her an intellectual historian.

The book opens on a collision. In an important strand of Greek and Roman thought, a law is divine because of what it is like. It is rational. It matches the truth. It holds for everyone. It never changes. Cicero’s version has divine law as right reason in agreement with nature, the same everywhere, permanent. A law that could be improved was never perfect, and a law that was never perfect was never divine.

Biblical law does not behave that way. Its authority comes from its source. God spoke, Israel accepted, the covenant binds. The rules are particular to one people. Their reasons are often unstated. God changes their application, and human beings can prompt Him to do it, as the daughters of Zelophehad do when they petition for their father’s inheritance. To a Greek, Ezra’s scroll shows every mark of human, fallible law. To Ezra, calling a law divine because it is reasonable would sound close to blasphemy.

Alexander’s conquests put the two conceptions in the same room. Jewish writers had to do something about the mismatch.

Philo and others closed the gap. Torah is rational. Its commandments have reasons. Mosaic law expresses the natural order, which is why Abraham kept it before Sinai, having it written into his constitution. What looks tribal is universal wisdom awaiting a wider audience.

Paul widened the gap and uses it to create gentile membership in the new movement.

The rabbis did a third thing.

They declined the rescue. Torah does not have to be universally rational to bind. A commandment whose reason is inaccessible remains a commandment. The hukkim, the decrees with no transparent explanation, sit in the system without embarrassment. Rabbinic argument is ferocious about reason and uses it constantly, deriving hundreds of rulings by kal va-homer and other moves borrowed from Greco-Roman rhetoric. What they reject is the further claim that law draws its authority from conformity to an independent rational order.

They unhooked divine law from truth. Hayes shows the rabbis treating emet in legal contexts as trustworthiness and procedural validity rather than correspondence to a fixed fact. She finds texts where peace outranks strict justice and a compromise settlement beats the correct ruling. She finds the midrash where God throws truth to the ground so that mercy can win and the world can survive. As she puts it, nobody is surprised when human law departs from metaphysical truth. The surprise is that the rabbis do this to divine law.

Follow that and the famous tolerance for disagreement stops looking like a temperament and starts looking like a doctrine. If divine law were a set of eternal propositions, interpretation would be discovery and error would be the only alternative to truth. Rabbinic law runs on argument, precedent, majority rule, and authorized judgment, and those produce the operative content. Rabban Gamaliel declares the new moon on the wrong day and pressures Rabbi Joshua to keep Yom Kippur on the date everyone knows is astronomically wrong, and Rabbi Joshua submits. The court outranks the sky.

The awards came fast: the 2015 National Jewish Book Award in Scholarship, the 2016 Jordan Schnitzer Award, the 2016 PROSE Award in Theology and Religious Studies.

So did the objections. Writing in the Bryn Mawr Classical Review, the reviewer granted her claim about the dominant tendency of each tradition, then pressed on the edges. There is a minority biblical strand identifying God’s will with a universal moral order, which Hayes herself documents. On the Greek side, Socrates asks Euthyphro whether the holy is loved by the gods because it is holy or holy because they love it, which is the same question from the other end, posed with no help from Judea. Each tradition could reach Hayes’s problem on its own. Reviewers in the AJS Review and elsewhere raised versions of the same worry.

Hayes anticipated much of this. She names the exceptions inside both traditions and argues about tendencies. Whether a tendency can bear the weight of a civilizational story is the live question the book leaves open.

There is a domestic footnote to the argument that a novelist would be told to cut.

Hayes married Michael Della Rocca (b. 1962) in 1988. He teaches philosophy at Yale, works on Spinoza and metaphysics, and is the leading contemporary defender of the Principle of Sufficient Reason, the claim that every fact has a complete explanation and that brute inexplicability is not allowed anywhere. In 2021 he was named Sterling Professor of Philosophy, months after she was named Sterling Professor of Religious Studies. Yale’s philosophy department reported them as the second married couple in the university’s history to hold two Sterling chairs.

Her contribution to a volume he co-edited on the Principle of Sufficient Reason is called “The Principle of Sufficient Reason in Religion.”

She spent thirty years documenting a tradition that keeps commandments whose reasons nobody can state.

The teaching went in the other direction from the scholarship.

Her Introduction to the Hebrew Bible ran twenty-four lectures and became one of the pilot courses for Open Yale Courses in 2006. Yale University Press published it as Introduction to the Bible in 2012. She had already written The Emergence of Judaism for Fortress in 2010. She won the Sidonie Miskimin Clauss Prize for Teaching Excellence in the Humanities in 2005, chaired Religious Studies from 2011 to 2015, and served as director of graduate and undergraduate studies more than once.

The retirement tribute quoted the comments of ordinary readers who had found the lectures online, people who wrote in to say it was the best introduction to the Old Testament they had read.

She has supervised a generation.Chaya Halberstam, whose dissertation became a book that won the same Baron Prize her advisor won. Tzvi Novick, now at Notre Dame. Michal Bar-Asher Siegal, now at Ben-Gurion. Sara Ronis at St. Mary’s. Simcha Gross at Penn. Shlomo Zuckier. Several of them appear in the volume she has just edited.

On August 3, 2014, at the Tikvah Fund’s summer fellowship, Hayes sat down opposite Rabbi Yehoshua Pfeffer, a haredi rabbinic judge and a former clerk on the Israeli Supreme Court, and the two of them talked about how to read the Talmud. Each described what Tikvah called a love affair with rabbinic literature. Each then gave a shiur and responded to the other’s.

Hayes is among the few accomplished academic Talmudists who was neither born nor raised Jewish, and who decided, deliberately, not to convert.

A woman outside Jewish legal status spent her working life on how Jews built and policed that status. She wrote the book on gentile impurity. She translated Mishnah Avodah Zarah, the tractate on idolatry and on what you may accept from a gentile’s hand, for the Oxford Annotated Mishnah in 2022, three decades after the dissertation on the same tractate. In 2015 the Jewish Theological Seminary would give her an honorary doctorate and call her an ohevet Yisrael, using a category of affection where the categories of law do not apply. That was in May 2025, and she delivered the commencement address.

A scholar who has spent her life near a line she has not crossed has been unusually alert to the difference between what a man is and what a community’s law says he is, and unusually careful about not letting the second question answer the first.

Since her retirement she has been the Gruss Visiting Professor in Talmudic Civil Law at Harvard Law School in 2024, the Gruss Visiting Professor in Jewish Law at Penn Carey Law in 2025, and a visiting professor and affiliated scholar at Yale Law School, where she teaches Concepts of Divine Law in Historical Perspective. She has written on Dworkin and the rabbis, on legal truth and best answers, on the reception of Roman law by Jewish courts. She is a senior research fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America and a faculty member and curriculum supervisor in its rabbinical ordination program.

In February 2024, in an episode of the Hartman podcast TEXTing, Elana Stein Hain sat with Hayes and read a story from Bavli Bekhorot 8b–9a while Israel was at war and Israeli satirists were mocking everyone in sight.

The story: the emperor asks Rabbi Yehoshua ben Hananiah how long a snake carries its young. Seven years, he says, without hesitating. The Athenian sages bred one and got three, says the emperor. She was already four years gone, says Rabbi Yehoshua. They mated, says the emperor. Snakes do that for pleasure, says Rabbi Yehoshua. Are the Athenians not wise men? We are wiser. Then go defeat them and bring them here.

He builds a ship with sixty cabins, sixty cushions in each. He gets past the guards, tells the sages he has come to learn, and takes their riddles.

How do you salt salt that has gone bad? With the placenta of a mule. A mule has no placenta. Does salt go bad?

Build us a house in the sky. He pronounces the Name, hangs between heaven and earth, and calls down for bricks.

Which egg came from the black hen and which from the white? He hands them two cheeses and asks which came from the black goat.

Hayes noted that several of these riddles are lifted from Ahikar and the Life of Aesop, folk contests between a king and a clever advisor that circulated across the ancient world, one copy of Ahikar turning up in the Jewish colony at Elephantine in the fifth century BCE. The rabbis are working inside a genre their neighbors also read.

Then she said what the story is doing. If you answer a challenge by saying it can’t be done, the challenger wins. If you say certainly, hand me the bricks, the burden goes back across the table. In her formulation, the rabbis don’t beat the Athenians at their own game. “They blow up the game.”

She has been writing this book for years and the working title keeps moving. Her Harvard Law curriculum vitae lists it as The Epistemology and Metaphysics of Talmudic Humor. Yale’s website calls it Laughter, Comedy, and Play in Rabbinic Literature. She has lectured on Talmudic law as play, on law as performance, on the rabbis as jesters, on humor as an epistemic barometer, on whether we can laugh at God.

The lecture description she uses runs like this. In the legends the rabbis put God in a body and a life. He wears tefillin. He prays. He studies Torah. He weeps. He makes mistakes. He accepts correction from human beings and loses arguments to them. Were they having fun, or is the comedy carrying a position against the Greco-Roman divine, the one that is perfect, unmoved, and incapable of surprise?

Her own account of why she started is simple. Both the Bible and rabbinic literature are countercultural, and countercultural writing produces incongruity. Human beings do one of two things with incongruity. They work to make it disappear, or they find it funny, enjoy it, and double down. She thinks the rabbis double down.

That is the sequel to What’s Divine about Divine Law? If Greek divinity means perfection, immutability, and freedom from need, then a God who argues, changes His mind, regrets, and studies is a theological claim delivered as a joke. And if divine law is contingent, historically embedded, and handed to human interpreters, then the endless hypotheticals, the impossible cases, the fictions, and the arguments nobody will ever need to resolve are not decoration around the law. They might be how a law like that gets lived in.

The safety-valve reading is available: the rabbis joked to survive the anxiety of interpreting God’s words. There may be something in it. It goes past what the evidence carries. The other possibility is that play belongs inside the conception of law rather than relieving pressure from outside it. A tradition that can hold a proposition without endorsing it can explore further. Humor can expose a contradiction without collapsing the system that contains it.

In late spring 2023, Harvard’s Center for Jewish Studies, the Julis-Rabinowitz Program on Jewish and Israeli Law, and the Littauer Chair convened a conference. The sessions ran on Zoom across several weeks in May. Hayes and Noah Feldman gave the opening remarks. The title was four words long.

What is the Talmud?

After a century and a half of academic Talmud study, the answer is unsettled. A record of legal debate. A literary construction. A scholastic culture. A redacted anthology. A product of Sasanian Persia in conversation with Zoroastrians, Christians, Roman law, medicine, and magic. Who produced the anonymous argumentative layer, and when. How traditions traveled between Palestine and Babylonia. When the text firmed up. What later readers turned it into.

What Is the Talmud? The State of the Question was published by Harvard University Press on May 12, 2026, edited by Hayes and Jay M. Harris, 904 pages, in the Jewish Law and Culture series. The contributors run from Robert Brody and Yaakov Sussmann’s philological tradition through Boyarin, Charlotte Fonrobert, Shai Secunda, Michal Bar-Asher Siegal, Simcha Gross, Talya Fishman, Barry Wimpfheimer, Ruth Calderon, and thirty more.

The old geography of the field, Israeli philology on one side and American theory on the other, is gone or going. Her career runs through both, Berkeley and Jerusalem, Sussmann and Boyarin, variant readings and jurisprudence, and the volume reads as a field that has stopped choosing.

The method has held for thirty-five years. Find a word everyone uses as though it named one thing. Ask whether it does. Talmudic difference turns out to be textual, hermeneutical, dialectical, or social. Impurity turns out to be ritual, moral, genealogical, or carnal. Divine law turns out to mean either law issued by a divine sovereign or law bearing supposedly divine properties. Once the split is made, arguments that ran for decades turn out to have been two arguments wearing one name.

A discrepancy between two passages becomes a lesson in historical method.

A purity rule becomes a theory of who belongs.

A commandment becomes a question about what law is.

A legal fiction becomes a question about truth.

A joke becomes a question about God.

The subject under all of it is a civilization that made two commitments at once. The Torah comes from God. Human beings have to argue about what it means.

Most systems reduce the strain between those two. On Hayes’s reading, the rabbis raise it. Revelation does not end interpretation. Divine authority does not crowd out human authority. Disagreement does not break faith. Adaptation does not refute eternity. A command with no visible reason does not stop being divine. A ruling need not reproduce a fact fixed outside the courtroom. Even the laughter is not unbelief.

Notes

Wikipedia, “Christine Hayes” — birth date December 6, 1960; Australian parents; Sydney and Adelaide; Hillel; 1982 kibbutz; two years nonprofit; return to academia 1986; Hebrew University 1987–88; M.A. 1988, Ph.D. 1993; Boyarin as advisor; marriage to Della Rocca 1988; two sons; “Hayes is not Jewish.”

Hayes’s curriculum vitae, Harvard Law School faculty site — the single most useful document here. Full employment history and ranks (Assistant 1996–99, Associate 1999–2002, Full 2002–05, Weis Professor 2005–21, Sterling 2021–23, chair 2011–15); B.A. March 1984; Salo Baron Prize dated 1999; Mellon New Directions awarded 2003 for use in 2005–06; complete publication list; the November 2005 Whitney Humanities Center talk “The Talmudic Martin Guerre OR Death of a Legal Fiction”; Dworkin article; Urbach translation; Mishnah Avodah Zarah translation (2022); the in-progress book listed as The Epistemology and Metaphysics of Talmudic Humor; the full list of doctoral advisees; Limmud Oz Melbourne 2022; Los Angeles synagogue lectures.

Yale Faculty of Arts and Sciences, 2023 retirement tribute (written by Penelope Laurans, read by Dean Tamar Gendler) — “at the head of your field”; the dissertation “so electrified a field that a leading scholar published an entire volume”; the reader comments about the Open Yale course.

Yale Jewish Studies faculty profile — current status; Hartman ordination program role as faculty member and curriculum supervisor; Laughter, Comedy, and Play in Rabbinic Literature as the current working title; Lund honorary doctorate 2023; Gruss chairs 2024 and 2025.

Yale Law School faculty page — visiting professor (adjunct) of law, spring term; affiliated scholar, Brodie Center for Jewish and Israeli Law; course title Concepts of Divine Law in Historical Perspective; honorary doctorates from Lund and JTS.

Yale News, April 12, 2021, Sterling appointment.

Yale Religious Studies, May 28, 2025 — JTS honorary degree, commencement address, and the citation text including ohevet Yisrael. https://religiousstudies.yale.edu/node/7224

Yale Daily News, December 1, 2021Della Rocca’s Sterling chair and the second-Sterling-couple claim, attributed to acting philosophy chair Kenneth Winkler. https://yaledailynews.com/blog/2021/12/01/catching-up-with-michael-della-rocca-yales-newest-sterling-professor-of-philosophy/

Wikipedia, “Michael Della Rocca” — b. 1962; Spinoza; the Principle of Sufficient Reason; Yale since 1991.

Shlomo Zuckier’s retirement tribute on LinkedIn is the source of the Twersky anecdote and of the detail that she studied with Milgrom, Sussmann, and Boyarin. He introduces the Twersky exchange with “Legend has it,” and I have kept that qualification.

The Neusner episode

Cambridge Core, Journal of Law and Religion review page, which supplies the full bibliographic chain: Neusner’s Are the Talmuds Interchangeable? Christine Hayes’s Blunder, South Florida Studies in the History of Judaism no. 122, Scholars Press, 1995, xxix + 166 pp.; Neusner’s 1995 review in JSJ 26; Hayes’s “Response to Jacob Neusner,” JSJ 27/3 (1996) 324–333.

Oxford Academic listing for the book’s appendix, “Response to Jacob Neusner.”

Maclean’s, May 16, 2005 — Neusner’s 900-plus books, the “Drop Dead” sign-offs, and the habit of answering critics with a whole volume bearing their name.

Ben Rothke’s review of Aaron Hughes’s Neusner biography, Times of Israel, on the lawyer on retainer and the Steinsaltz volume.

Oxford University Press page for Between the Babylonian and Palestinian Talmuds, including the Jewish Quarterly Review line about incisive and elegant formulations.

Project MUSE review summary, which lays out the book’s parts: textual causes, ambiguity, the Bavli’s verbal-economy assumption, dialectical strategies.

Gentile Impurities

Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 2004.12.06 — the clearest short account of the argument: gentiles subject only to moral purity law; genealogical impurity a priestly concern in the Pentateuch; Ezra and Nehemiah extending holy seed to all Israel.

Project MUSE review — the Klawans debt, the ritual/moral distinction, and the addition of genealogical impurity as a property of offspring rather than of the actor.

Oxford University Press page for the book, on sectarianism and the Jewish-Christian separation.

What’s Divine about Divine Law?

Princeton University Press page — the two conceptions and the “scandalous” third path.

Richard Hidary, “God’s Law in Human Hands,” Jewish Review of Books, Spring 2018. This is where the returning-husband case, the Yerushalmi passage with Rabbi Imi and Aba the son of Aba, the Bavli’s report of the western mockery, the GamalielJoshua calendar story, the Cicero definition, and the Zelophehad point all appear together. Hidary also raises the objection that Hayes overstates R. Yehudah’s nominalism.

Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 2016.04.40 — the Euthyphro objection and the claim that both traditions could reach her problem without each other.

AJS Review notice summarizing parts 2 and 3.

The Lehrhaus review.

Abstract of “‘In the West, they laughed at him’: The Mocking Realists of the Babylonian Talmud,” Journal of Law, Religion and State 2:2 (2013) 137–167.

The Case Merton Never Got

In July 1972 the American Journal of Sociology devoted an issue to what it called varieties of political expression in sociology. The lead article ran thirty-nine pages and was written by the most decorated man in the discipline. Robert K. Merton (1910–2003) was sixty-one, University Professor at Columbia, the coiner of the self-fulfilling prophecy, the role model, and the unintended consequence. The article was called “Insiders and Outsiders: A Chapter in the Sociology of Knowledge,” and it was a frontal attack on a claim then gaining ground across the American academy.

The claim was that membership is a precondition of understanding. You have to be one to understand one. Merton named it the Insider doctrine and stated its correlative: the Outsider suffers a structurally imposed incapacity to reach the knowledge in question. He examined it in its most articulate contemporary form, the argument for a black social science, and treated that case as prototypical for parallel claims resting on sex, age, religion, and nationality. He also examined the mirror error, the Outsider doctrine, which grounds superior access in detachment and holds that one need not be Caesar to understand Caesar.

He rejected both in their strong forms and offered a structural argument against them. Insiders and Outsiders are not two kinds of people. They are positions, and every person occupies many at once. Merton had spent years developing the concept of the status set, the bundle of statuses a single individual holds simultaneously, and he turned it on the doctrine. A man is inside some collectivities and outside others, and the statuses cut across each other. Any doctrine that assigns epistemic authority on the basis of one status is therefore unstable. It cannot survive contact with the second status, or the fifth. What replaces the doctrine is a question about division of labor: what does each position see, what does each miss, and what happens in the exchange between them.

Merton knew the terrain personally. He was born Meyer Robert Schkolnick on July 4, 1910, in South Philadelphia, to Yiddish-speaking Russian Jews who had landed in 1904. His mother was an unsynagogued socialist. His father sold dairy products until the uninsured shop burned, then worked as a carpenter’s assistant. At fourteen the boy took a stage name for his magic act, first Merlin, which a mentor told him was hackneyed, then Merton, chosen to Americanize the family name, with Robert taken from the French conjuror whose name Houdini had already borrowed. He kept it when the scholarship to Temple came through and made it legal at nineteen. The man who argued that group membership confers no monopoly on truth had changed his own name to get into the room.

Fifty-four years later, the doctrine he attacked is stronger than it was when he attacked it, and the best available counterexample sits unused in a field with no appetite for being anybody’s exhibit.

Christine Hayes held the Sterling Professorship of Religious Studies in Classical Judaica at Yale, the university’s highest faculty rank, from 2021 until her retirement in 2023. She served as president of the Association for Jewish Studies and for four years as co-editor of its Review. She was elected to the American Academy for Jewish Research in 2008. Her first book settled how the field explains legal divergence between the two Talmuds. Her third swept the National Jewish Book Award, the Jordan Schnitzer Award, and a PROSE Award. She has held the Gruss chairs in Jewish law at Harvard and Penn, teaches at Yale Law School, and in May 2026 published, with Jay M. Harris of Harvard, a 904-page volume that asks the field’s most elementary question and gathers three dozen scholars to answer it.

She is not Jewish, and she has decided against becoming Jewish. Tikvah, describing the session it recorded on August 3, 2014, in which Hayes and the haredi rabbinic judge Yehoshua Pfeffer discussed how to read rabbinic literature, put it in those terms: among accomplished academic Talmudists she is one of the very few neither born nor raised Jewish, and the decision not to convert was deliberate.

Merton’s essay considered Insider doctrines grounded in race, sex, age, nationality, and religion. He did not have this case, and it would have improved his argument, because it is harder than any he examined.

The Insider doctrines Merton confronted in 1972 were assertions of a felt condition. What white Americans have never fully understood, the Kerner Report had told the country four years earlier, is what the Negro can never forget. That sentence claims a knowledge that experience confers and that nothing else can substitute for. It is a strong claim and Merton found it porous, since it rests on a status boundary that nobody administers and everybody argues about.

The Jewish Insider claim is different in kind. It is administered. Membership is a legal status determined by descent through the mother or by a court, with witnesses, a formal procedure, and a written record. There is a body of law that specifies who is in, what an outsider may and may not do, whose testimony counts, whom one may marry, and what changes and what fails to change when somebody crosses. Halakhah is the Insider doctrine codified and made adjudicable.

Hayes wrote the history of that codification. Gentile Impurities and Jewish Identities, published by Oxford in 2002, is a study of how ancient Jews built and policed the boundary of Israel. Her contribution was to break the word impurity into components that earlier scholarship had run together. Ritual impurity is temporary, contagious by contact, and morally neutral. Moral impurity attaches to grave sin and does not transfer by touch. To these she added a third category. Genealogical impurity attaches to descent rather than to conduct, and it belongs to the offspring rather than to the actor. In the Pentateuch that constraint governs priests. Ezra and Nehemiah take the priestly rule and extend it to all Israel, which becomes a holy seed, and under that logic intermarriage becomes defilement for everyone.

Once those categories separate, arguments about purity become arguments about the price of the boundary. A ritual condition washes off. A moral defilement can be renounced. A genealogical defect sits in the ancestry where no water reaches. Whether a gentile can become a Jew depends on which of the three is thought to stand in the way.

So the case runs like this. A woman whom the boundary excludes wrote the definitive account of how the boundary was built, and the community whose boundary it is gave her its chairs, its prizes, its journal, its presidency, and, in May 2025, an honorary doctorate from the Jewish Theological Seminary, whose citation reached past law for a term of affection and called her an ohevet Yisrael.

Merton would recognize that citation. It is a classification problem solved with a compliment.

Run his structural argument on her and the puzzle loses most of its force.

Merton defined Insiders as members of specified groups or occupants of specified statuses, and Outsiders as the nonmembers, then insisted that no one occupies a single status. Take Hayes’s set. She holds a doctorate from Berkeley in Near Eastern Studies. Her advisor was Daniel Boyarin (b. 1946). She studied Leviticus with Jacob Milgrom (1923–2010) and spent 1987–88 at the Hebrew University with the philologist Yaakov Sussmann (b. 1931). She reads Hebrew and Aramaic. She has trained a dozen doctoral students, several of whom now hold chairs. She sat on the editorial board of the Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception, chaired the Salo Baron Prize committee, and conducted tenure reviews for the Hebrew University and the Jewish Theological Seminary.

On the axis that governs the discipline she is as far inside as the discipline permits anyone to be. On the axis that governs the community she is outside. The friction a reader feels on first hearing “non-Jewish Talmud scholar” comes from importing the second status set into the first, which is the error Merton spent thirty-nine pages describing. The statuses do not stack. They cut across.

That is the easy half of the argument.

The interesting half is what the Outsider position buys, and here the frame requires discipline, because the tempting answer is wrong.

The tempting answer is that distance produces clarity, that Hayes sees what insiders cannot. Merton rejected that. It is the strong Outsider doctrine, the equal and opposite error, and it fails for the same structural reason. Detachment does not confer access. Plenty of insiders have disaggregated categories with as much ruthlessness as she has. Sussmann is an insider and no one alive is better at separating what tradition has fused.

Merton’s mature position is narrower and more useful. Insiders and Outsiders differ in their characteristic blind spots and in their characteristic costs. Reframe the question as price rather than sight and the case becomes measurable.

Hayes’s central finding, in What’s Divine about Divine Law?, published by Princeton in 2015, is that the rabbis built a conception of divine law that need not be rational, need not be universal, need not correspond to mind-independent truth, and need not be immutable. Greek and Roman thought made a law divine by its properties: right reason, agreement with nature, permanence, sameness everywhere. Biblical law is divine because of its source. Philo tried to close the gap by arguing that Torah is natural law after all. Paul widened it. The rabbis declined the whole transaction. They kept commandments whose reasons are inaccessible. They ran their law on argument, precedent, and majority rule, and let authorized judgment determine the operative content. Rabban Gamaliel declares the new moon on the wrong day and Rabbi Joshua keeps Yom Kippur on a date everyone knows the sky contradicts. The court outranks the sky. In one midrash God throws truth to the ground so that mercy can prevail and the world survive.

For a reader who owns the tradition, that finding is expensive. It looks like an accusation before it looks like a description. Richard Hidary, reviewing the book in the Jewish Review of Books, said outright that her conclusion will provoke many scholars of classical Judaism.

Hayes pays nothing. She has no stake in whether Torah turns out to satisfy Cicero. The finding costs her no piety, no communal standing, no self-image. That is not superior vision. It is a lower price for the same conclusion.

A scholar who has never been bound by a ruling has no felt knowledge of what obligation is like from the inside. Hayes has written a large book about a legal system’s tolerance for fictions, contrary-to-fact judgments, and the divorce of law from truth, and she has written it about people who lived under the system she describes. Whether the missing experience constitutes a defect is a question Merton answered in a specific way. The test is evidentiary. You do not adjudicate a finding by inspecting the biography of the man who made it. You adjudicate it against the sources.

Which brings the argument to 1995, when the field applied that test.

Jacob Neusner published a book that year with Scholars Press in Atlanta, one hundred sixty-six pages plus a twenty-nine-page introduction, titled Are the Talmuds Interchangeable? Christine Hayes’s Blunder. Hayes was thirty-four, an assistant professor at Princeton, without tenure, her own book still two years out. What Neusner had read was the dissertation. He had done the same to Adin Steinsaltz. He kept an attorney on retainer to inform critics that their reviews resembled libel. He is reported to have closed letters with instructions to drop dead. He had also, by then, published more books than any other scholar in the humanities.

Read the title again. Christine Hayes’s Blunder.

Not her standing. Not her status. Her error. In the year the Insider doctrine was near its high-water mark in the American academy, the most combative man in the field attacked a young woman who held no birth status in the tradition, and he attacked her reasoning. She answered in the Journal for the Study of Judaism in 1996 and again in an appendix to the Oxford book in 1997. The book won the Salo Baron Prize. Yale’s retirement tribute in 2023 reports that her account of the divergences between the two Talmuds became the accepted one.

That episode is the strongest evidence available for Merton’s thesis, and it works precisely because Neusner was not a fair-minded man. A discipline’s norms show themselves under the behavior of its worst-tempered member. He had every incentive to reach for the cheapest available weapon and he reached for the sugyot instead.

There is a second question underneath the first, and it deserves the same treatment.

Assemble a list of the five hundred most consequential Talmudists across two thousand years and it will be male. The exception worth knowing is Asenath Barzani (c. 1590–1670), who ran a yeshiva in Mosul and was addressed as a rabbinic authority; the material about Rashi’s daughters is mostly legend. So the historical picture holds, and it holds strongly.

Merton’s structural analysis explains the shape of it without any appeal to capacity. The exclusion attached to a single status, male, which governed entry to a single institution, the beit midrash, whose entry conditions were themselves normative. Talmud mastery was the ticket to communal office. The obligation to study fell on men. The institution and the status were welded together, and the doctrine did not have to be argued because it was administered.

The academic study of rabbinic literature is a different institution with different entry conditions. It is roughly two centuries old. It runs on manuscripts, peer review, tenure files, external referees, and prize committees, and it is formally indifferent to birth and sex because its outputs describe rather than command. Nobody rules from Hayes’s articles.

Now count. Open the contributor list of What Is the Talmud? The State of the Question, the volume Hayes and Harris published with Harvard on May 12, 2026, out of a conference held over Zoom in May 2023. Michal Bar-Asher Siegal, Charlotte Fonrobert, Tal Ilan, Julia Watts Belser, Alyssa Gray, Mira Beth Wasserman, Lynn Kaye, Ayelet Hoffmann Libson, Talya Fishman, Ruth Calderon, Sarit Kattan Gribetz, Avigail Manekin-Bamberger, Yael Wilfand, Shira Shmidman, Adryael Tong. That is not a scattering. That is a generation, and Bar-Asher Siegal took her doctorate under Hayes at Yale in 2010.

The interval between Barzani and that list is about four hundred years and one change of institution. Merton’s argument predicts that a doctrine welded to a single status collapses when the status stops controlling the institution, and here is the collapse, dated and countable.

The frame turns reflexive at this point, and the turn is the reason to write the essay at all.

Hayes’s own finding about the rabbis is that they declined to grant anyone monopolistic access to legal truth. They preserved minority opinions. They produced the formula about these and those both being the words of the living God. They ran on majority rule and treated even genealogical identity, the hardest and most bodily of statuses, as something a human court decides. The Bavli records the West laughing at Rav for telling a returning husband that he is not himself, which is the tradition keeping a record of the objection to its own procedure.

The corpus she studies is a two-thousand-year argument against the strong Insider doctrine, conducted by insiders.

And the story she read with Elana Stein Hain on a Hartman podcast in early 2024, Bavli Bekhorot 8b through 9a, is a story about crossing. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Hananiah sails to Athens, walks into the academy of the sages, tells them he has come to learn, and then answers their riddles by refusing their premises. Build us a house in the sky, they say. He suspends himself between heaven and earth and asks them to hand up the bricks. In Hayes’s account he does not win on their terms. He blows up the game.

She reversed the vector. She entered the other academy and mastered its terms so completely that the academy handed her its chairs. Both stories are about the same structural position and they resolve it in opposite directions, which is what a good frame should show you.

Where the frame runs out is worth marking, since the alternative is stretching it.

Merton wrote about knowledge. His essay says nothing about authority, and the two come apart at Hartman. Hayes is a senior research fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America and, per Yale, a faculty member and curriculum supervisor in its North American rabbinical ordination program. Describing how rabbinic law worked in the fifth century is an epistemic act. Shaping what a rabbi ordained in 2027 will know is not. The question there is jurisdiction, which is a different problem with a different literature, and Merton’s argument does not reach it. Anyone who wants to defend or attack that arrangement will have to do it on other grounds.

What Merton does reach is the thing that startles people when they first hear it, and his answer to that is unglamorous. Nobody holds a monopoly. Every position has blind spots and every finding has a price, and the price differs by position. The productive work happens in the traffic across the line, which is why the crossers are worth studying and why so few of them exist in any given field.

He closed the 1972 essay with a parody of Marx, calling on Insiders and Outsiders in the domain of knowledge to unite, since, as he put it, “You have nothing to lose but your claims.”

The claims, in this case, are two. That a gentile cannot understand Talmud. That a woman was never going to. Both are testable propositions about the world. Both have now been tested against a single career, and both came back false, which is the outcome Merton predicted and the outcome the field has quietly accepted without ever writing it down.

Notes

Merton and the essay

Robert K. Merton, “Insiders and Outsiders: A Chapter in the Sociology of Knowledge,” American Journal of Sociology 78, no. 1 (July 1972), 9–47. The abstract, which supplies most of what I attribute to him, is the source for the following: the Insider doctrine and the correlative claim that the Outsider suffers a structurally imposed incapacity; the Outsider doctrine grounded in socially based detachment; the choice of black social science as the prototypical case, explicitly extended to Insider doctrines based on sex, age, religion, and nationality; the status-set argument that single-status doctrines are unstable and inadequate; and the closing turn to interchange and synthesis. https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/225294 and https://www.d.umn.edu/cla/faculty/jhamlin/4111/Readings/MertonKnowledge.htm

JSTOR table of contents for that issue, titled “Varieties of Political Expression in Sociology,” showing Merton’s article at the head of an issue that also contains a symposium on Gouldner‘s The Coming Crisis of Western Sociology. Gouldner was Merton’s doctoral student, which is a further irony available to you if you want it. https://www.jstor.org/stable/i328989

Xiaolin Xu’s methodological review supplies two Merton passages I paraphrased and one page reference: the definition of Insiders as members of specified groups or occupants of specified social statuses and Outsiders as nonmembers (p. 21), and his conclusion that the question is no longer who has monopolistic or privileged access but what the distinctive and interactive roles are in truth seeking. https://journals.library.mun.ca/index.php/mwatch/article/download/1748/1356/5935

The “one need not be Caesar in order to understand Caesar” formulation of the Outsider doctrine, and the “you have to be one in order to understand one” formulation of the Insider doctrine, as summarized in a 2025 scientometrics paper. https://issi2025.iiap.sci.am/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/46.-Cao_fp_issi2025_IO_updated_247.pdf

The closing line, “Insiders and outsiders in the domain of knowledge, unite. You have nothing to lose but your claims. You have a world of understanding to win,” is quoted here. https://www.theunchainedbanker.com/post/outsider-insiders

The Kerner language is verified: https://daily.jstor.org/the-kerner-commission-report-on-white-racism-50-years-on and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kerner_Commission

Merton’s biography

Wikipedia, “Robert K. Merton” — born Meyer Robert Schkolnick, July 4, 1910, Philadelphia; died February 23, 2003; Yiddish-speaking Russian Jewish parents who arrived in 1904; mother Ida Rasovskaya, described as an unsynagogued socialist; father Aaron Schkolnickoff, registered at the port as Harrie Skolnick, a tailor whose uninsured dairy shop burned; South Philadelphia High School; the doctoral students, including Gouldner. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_K._Merton

American Sociological Association memorial page and Encyclopedia.com — the magic act, the rejected stage name Merlin, the surname chosen to Americanize the family name, Robert taken from Robert-Houdin by way of Houdini, the Temple scholarship, and the decision to keep the name. https://www.asanet.org/robert-k-merton/ and https://www.encyclopedia.com/people/social-sciences-and-law/sociology-biographies/robert-king-merton

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How Effective Are Deradicalization Programs?

According to Claude, terrorist reoffending is rare. The Terrorism Recidivism Study tracked US terrorism convictions post-9/11 and found that of 354 released offenders, about 3.1 percent reoffended, well below rates for ordinary criminal offenders. European practitioners put the global median for violent extremist and terrorist offenders near 5.5 percent, and a Belgian dataset of more than 500 jihadi convicts from 1990 to 2019 found the same low rate. So a program that takes eighty men and reports three failures has produced what leaving them alone produces. Almost every Western deradicalization program is too small for its own success rate to mean anything. You cannot measure a treatment effect on a rare event with a caseload that size, and the providers know it, which is why the reporting runs to testimonials and throughput counts.

The evaluation literature says the same thing in drier language. The Campbell evidence and gap map found the research piled up on policing interventions, few studies on custodial corrections, and none at all on community corrections. The Campbell review of case management concluded that effectiveness remains poorly understood because robust impact evaluations do not exist. A review of prevention programs screened close to twelve thousand documents and found 33 empirical evaluations, hampered by weak designs, small and biased samples, unclear definitions, and conflicts of interest. That same review found harmful effects clustering in programs that targeted particular ethnic or religious groups or leaned on surveillance. That is Prevent in a sentence.

The Tom Wolfe (1931-2018) reading fits the funding structure. Mau-mauing runs on an intermediary whose standing depends on his ability to represent a threat to the men holding the checkbook. The credible-messenger model builds that in by design. The former gang member’s qualification is his old rank in the thing he is now paid to dissolve. Success retires him. Nobody has to be cynical for the incentives to favor permanence, ambiguity in the outcome measure, and a threat that stays vivid.

Focused deterrence has evidence. Braga, Weisburd and Turchan pooled 24 quasi-experimental evaluations and found a statistically significant, moderate crime reduction effect. The engine there is the call-in, the credible promise of group liability, and a police department that follows through. Services ride along. Take away the deterrence half and nobody has shown the remainder does anything.

The second thing that works is cheap and has nothing to do with ideology. In Liberia, 999 high-risk men were randomized to eight weeks of therapy run by nonspecialists, two hundred dollars in cash, both, or neither. A decade later the men who got therapy, or therapy with cash, were about half as likely to be robbing, selling drugs, or fighting in the street, and the effects were concentrated in the highest-risk men. The result exceeded what expert forecasters predicted. Sara Heller’s Becoming a Man trial in Chicago points the same way. Self-regulation and a new self-description are teachable. Theology is not.

Disengagement might work better than deradicalization. Behavior against belief. Men leave violent movements for reasons that embarrass everyone: they get tired, they fall out with a comrade, they meet a woman, they have a child, they turn thirty. A program that lowers the cost of walking away and hands a man a story he can tell about why he left might help. A program that promises to correct his beliefs claims a power over conviction nobody has demonstrated.

Disengagement means a man stops. He quits the cell, the crew, the set. He stops carrying, stops attending, stops answering the phone. Deradicalization means he stops believing. He renounces the doctrine that justified the violence and adopts something else. Researchers separated these two ideas thirty years ago. Funders never did. Grant language, program names, and press releases keep promising the second thing while the world can only observe the first.

The promise survives because nobody can check it. Terrorist reoffending is rare. The Terrorism Recidivism Study followed post-9/11 American convictions and found that of 354 released offenders, roughly 3.1 percent reoffended, far under rates for ordinary criminals. European practitioners put the global median for violent extremist offenders near 5.5 percent. A Belgian dataset of more than five hundred jihadi convictions between 1990 and 2019 produced the same low figure. Run a program on eighty men, report two failures, and you have matched what neglect produces. No caseload in Europe or North America is large enough for its own success rate to carry information. The event is too rare and the samples too small. A provider who did nothing but hand out sandwiches could publish the same numbers.

The reviews confirm the vacuum. The Campbell evidence and gap map found the evaluation research bunched around policing, thin on custodial corrections, and empty on community corrections. The Campbell review of case management concluded that effectiveness stays poorly understood because robust impact evaluations do not exist. A review of prevention programs screened close to twelve thousand documents, kept thirty-three, and reported weak designs, small and biased samples, unclear definitions, and conflicts of interest. The same review found harmful effects clustered in programs that targeted particular ethnic or religious groups or leaned on surveillance.

So the field cannot tell you whether belief changed, and cannot tell you whether anything changed. What it can tell you, from a much older literature, is how men leave violence when nobody pays them to.

They age out. Adolphe Quetelet (1796-1874) noticed the curve in the 1830s and it has not moved since: offending rises through adolescence, peaks around nineteen or twenty, and falls for the rest of a man’s life. Sheldon Glueck (1896-1980) and Eleanor Glueck (1898-1972) followed five hundred Boston delinquents into middle age, and when Robert Sampson and John Laub reopened the files half a century later they found the turning points were mundane. A steady job. A wife. The Army. Mark Warr showed part of the wife effect runs through the calendar; a married man spends his evenings with a woman instead of his friends, and street crime is a group activity.

The terrorism interviews land in the same place. Tore Bjørgo’s Scandinavian right-wing extremists left because they got tired, because they feared prison, because their girlfriends threatened to leave, because the movement’s promises did not arrive. John Horgan’s interviews with Irish republicans and jihadists produced a list any human resources department would recognize: disillusionment with leadership, burnout, unmet expectations, small humiliations, family pressure. Altier, Thoroughgood and Horgan borrowed the turnover literature on purpose, because leaving a terrorist group looks like leaving a bad employer.

Notice what is missing from those accounts. Almost nobody says he changed his mind and therefore left. Men leave and keep their opinions for decades. Other men lose their faith in the doctrine and stay for the friends. Travis Hirschi (1935-2017) put belief last among his four social bonds, behind attachment, commitment, and involvement, and the ordering has held up. David Matza (1930-2018) described drift, and drift runs both ways. Conviction rides along with the life. It rarely drives.

That gives you the design principle. Belief follows the exit. Buy the exit.

The two things work on price and habit. Focused deterrence is the strongest result in this area: Braga, Weisburd and Turchan pooled twenty-four quasi-experimental evaluations and found a statistically significant, moderate crime reduction effect. The engine is the call-in, group liability, and a police department that follows through, with services on offer for the men who want out. It raises the price of the next shooting and lowers the price of quitting, and it says nothing about anyone’s soul. The second result comes from Liberia, where 999 high-risk men were randomized into eight weeks of therapy run by nonspecialists, two hundred dollars in cash, both, or nothing. Ten years later the men who got therapy, or therapy with cash, were about half as likely to be robbing, selling drugs, or fighting in the street. The gains concentrated in the highest-risk men and beat what expert forecasters predicted. Sara Heller’s Becoming a Man trials in Chicago point the same direction. What those programs teach is self-regulation and a new way to describe yourself. Doctrine never comes up.

Now the incentives.

Peter Rossi (1921-2006) gave us the iron law of evaluation: the expected net impact of any large-scale social program is zero. He also gave us the corollary that explains why programs survive anyway. The better the evaluation design, the smaller the measured effect. Providers learn this. They do not need to be dishonest to learn it. They need only notice which studies get them refunded.

Donald T. Campbell (1916-1996) supplied the second half. Any quantitative indicator used for social decision-making comes under pressure to corrupt, and corrupts the process it monitors. Charles Goodhart (b. 1936) said it for economists. In deradicalization the indicator is contacts, referrals, sessions delivered, mentors trained, youth reached. Those numbers rise with effort and never fall with failure. A program paid for contacts will produce contacts, and the men most likely to generate contacts are the men easiest to work with, who are also the men least likely to have offended in the first place.

George Akerlof (b. 1940) supplies the third. When buyers cannot observe quality, price stops tracking quality and the market selects on what buyers can observe. Here the buyer is a home office or a city council, the product is a change in a man’s future behavior, and that change is unobservable at the scale any single program operates. So the market selects on the observable substitute: a good story, a charismatic founder, a survivor’s testimony, a documentary crew. This produces exactly the industry we have. The best storytellers win the contracts. Efficacy floats free.

Tom Wolfe (1931-2018) described the last piece in 1970 and the structure has not changed. Money moving toward a threatened population moves through an intermediary whose standing depends on his ability to represent the threat. The credible-messenger model builds this in as a feature. The former gang member’s qualification is his old rank in the thing he is now paid to dissolve. Peace retires him. The flak catcher on the other side of the table wants the meeting to end without an incident and has no way to audit anything. Neither man has to be corrupt. The incentives point toward permanence, vividness, and an outcome measure nobody can fail.

There is a fourth cost the field rarely counts. Howard S. Becker (1928-2023) argued that deviance is conferred, not discovered, and that the label stabilizes the career. A referral program that names a seventeen-year-old an extremist has told him who he is, told his school, and told him which adults now find him fascinating. The prevention review’s finding of harm in programs targeting religious and ethnic categories reads as labeling theory confirmed in the field. Before you can deradicalize a boy you have to certify that he is radical, and the certificate has value in some markets.

An incentive-compatible design falls out of all this.

Pay for exit, and price it like any other transition. Tattoo removal, relocation, protection from the men he is leaving, a driver’s license, the fines and warrants cleared, work that starts Monday, a story he can tell his mother and his old friends that does not require him to grovel. Every one of these lowers the cost of walking away, and every one of them can be counted.

Never require recantation. A man who must denounce his beliefs to receive help will denounce them, and the reward goes to the fluent liar over the exhausted true believer who is actually leaving. Recantation is cheap talk with a public relations value to the program and a negative value to the participant, since it burns his bridges back to the community he still lives in.

Measure behavior with records collected by someone with no stake in the result. Arrests, hospital admissions, employment, returns to custody. Self-report scales administered by the staff whose funding depends on the score are theater.

Randomize, because these programs are oversubscribed anyway. A waitlist lottery costs nothing, treats applicants fairly, and turns twenty years of anecdote into a finding. A provider who refuses a lottery on a program with more applicants than slots is telling you what he expects the answer to be.

Target behavior, never a category. Men who have shot at someone, or been shot at, are a defensible population. Muslim teenagers, or working-class White teenagers, are not, and the evidence says targeting them that way does harm.

Sunset the contracts. Any body funded to manage a threat will discover the threat is chronic. Write the expiry into the grant and make renewal contingent on outcomes measured elsewhere.

The general lesson runs past terrorism and gangs. Programs that promise to change what people believe are funded by principals who cannot observe belief, which guarantees payment for performance of belief. That describes drug education, scared-straight tours, most workplace training, and a good deal of what passes for prevention. Programs that change prices, opportunities, and daily company can be measured, can fail visibly, and sometimes work. Gary Becker (1930-2014) was closer to the truth about crime than any curriculum designer, and he was writing about arithmetic a man does without knowing he is doing it.

We cannot buy a man’s convictions. We can make the door out of his old life cheap, quick, and unhumiliating, and we can make the door back in expensive. Do that at scale and the beliefs sort themselves out over ten years, quietly, in the direction the beliefs of aging men always drift. Nobody gets to hold a press conference about a soul reclaimed. That is the cost of a program that works.

The Atomistic Extremist

Take John J. Mearsheimer (b. 1947) at his word and the deradicalization industry looks like a category error running on schedule.

His claim is about human beings before it is about states. We are social from birth to death. Individualism comes second. A man is born into a group that shapes his identity before he can assert one, and by the time his reasoning has matured his family and his society have already loaded him with an enormous value infusion. Reason ranks third among the forces that fix his preferences, behind inborn sentiment and behind socialization. He has limited choice in formulating his moral code.

Set that anthropology beside a deradicalization program and the mismatch is total. The program addresses a man alone in a room. It offers him arguments: a mentor with better theology, a curriculum on democratic values, a survivor’s testimony, a counter-narrative video. It asks him to reconsider. It treats him as the bearer of a mistaken opinion, correctable through discussion, because that is what political liberalism takes a person to be. Mearsheimer’s man is not available for that conversation. His convictions arrived through a group, they are held on behalf of a group, and they will change when the group he lives among changes, which no forty-minute session accomplishes.

This predicts the pattern in the evidence. The Campbell review of case management approaches concluded that their effectiveness remains poorly understood because robust impact evaluations have not been done. A review of prevention programs kept thirty-three studies out of nearly twelve thousand documents and reported weak designs, small and biased samples, unclear definitions, and conflicts of interest. The same review found harm clustering in programs aimed at particular ethnic or religious groups and in programs built around surveillance. On Mearsheimer’s account that harm has an obvious source. A program that selects a boy by his religion has told him and everyone around him which group he belongs to, and has done so at the moment he is deciding how much that membership costs him. The state confirms the extremist’s central claim about the world.

The two things with evidence behind them work on the group, not the argument.

Focused deterrence is the strongest result in this area. Braga, Weisburd and Turchan pooled twenty-four quasi-experimental evaluations and found a statistically significant, moderate crime reduction effect. Look at what the call-in does. It brings a gang into a room as a gang, tells its members that the next shooting brings sanction on all of them, and puts mothers and grandmothers and clergy in front of them to say the same thing. It assigns collective liability and it recruits the men’s own social ties as enforcers. Nobody is asked to change his mind about anything. The strategy assumes Mearsheimer’s man: embedded, loyal, responsive to the standing of his people, willing to sacrifice for fellow members and therefore reachable through them.
Office of Justice Programs

The Liberia trial reads the same way. Nine hundred ninety-nine high-risk men were randomized into eight weeks of therapy, two hundred dollars, both, or nothing, and a decade later the therapy arms were about half as likely to be robbing, selling drugs, or fighting in the street. The effects concentrated in the highest-risk men and beat expert forecasts. The sessions ran in groups of about twenty, with men practicing a different self-presentation together: new clothes, new haircuts, new places to sit. The cash bought the material footing to hold the new position. What the men received was a small society with different membership rules and the means to stay in it.

Now the exits, which have always been social. The interview literature on men leaving violent groups turns up exhaustion, a falling-out with a leader, fear of prison, a woman, a child, a birthday. Almost nobody reports leaving because he was refuted. That looks like weak conviction until you read it through the frame. He did not exit into individualism. He exited into a different group with a competing claim on him: a wife, a household, a job crew, a congregation, an aging body that made him useless to the old crew and welcome somewhere else. The man never stopped being embedded. He changed which embedding governed his week.

Which means the design question is not what to say to him. It is what group will have him, on what terms, and how fast.

The lever with the best record is collective. Saudi Arabia’s program routes releases through family guarantors and tribal surety; a relative signs for the man and bears standing risk for his conduct. Denmark’s municipal approach works through parents, siblings, employers, and a caseworker who knows the household. Focused deterrence puts the group on notice as a group. All three take the family or the clan or the crew as the unit of accountability, because that is the unit that governs behavior.

A liberal state cannot say this out loud. Mearsheimer’s argument is that political liberalism is individualist at its core and organized around inalienable rights held by each person as a person. Collective liability offends that premise at the root. You cannot formally punish a brother for a brother, or lean on a mosque for a congregant, or make a father’s employment contingent on his son, without abandoning the idea that rights attach to individuals and only to individuals. So the liberal state does the thing informally, deniably, through community engagement contracts and quiet pressure, and then cannot evaluate what it will not name. It also cannot empower the thick communities that would do the governing, because those communities run their internal affairs on lines the state finds intolerable: patriarchal authority, honor, shunning, arranged marriage, deference to men with no democratic mandate. The liberal state is being asked to subsidize illiberal social power because illiberal social power is what moves men. It does the safe thing instead. It funds curriculum.

The universalist reflex compounds this abroad. Western donors fund moderate-religion programming in Kenya, Nigeria, Indonesia and Pakistan on the theory that the right doctrine, taught to the right individuals, produces the right citizens anywhere, since everyone carries the same rights and therefore, presumably, the same latent liberal self. Mearsheimer spent a book explaining why that project fails between states. The domestic version is the same project on a caseload of one. Samuel Moyn (b. 1972) describes human rights as the elevated aspiration of the age, evoking hope and provoking action. Deradicalization is what that aspiration looks like when it is handed a budget and a list of names.

If men need thick belonging, then extremist movements are supplying something that fills men up. The cell offers what the recruiting sergeant and the parish and the union hall used to offer: a name, a rank, brothers, a code, a task worth dying for. A liberal society that has thinned out its own particular attachments in favor of universal ones has fewer competitors in that market. This does not excuse the movement. It explains the demand and locates the shortage. On this reading the second-generation immigrant who joins a foreign fight is not failing to become an individual. He is looking for a nation, and the one he lives in has offered him rights and a passport while withholding membership, and a movement has offered him membership on the spot.

The counter-argument deserves a hearing. If socialization runs as deep as Mearsheimer says, exit should be rare, and it is not. Terrorist reoffending in Western samples runs low. The Terrorism Recidivism Study found about 3.1 percent of 354 released American offenders reoffended. European practitioners report a median near 5.5 percent. Men walk away constantly, cheaply, and without ceremony. A strong tribalism thesis has to explain that. It can: the tie that broke was to a small, young, recently assembled group, and it lost to older and denser ties that were waiting. What it cannot explain is a man who leaves into nothing, and those are the cases that recur in the reoffending files.

So the program design falls out of the anthropology, and it looks nothing like the industry we built.

Do not argue with him. Do not require recantation; a man asked to denounce his people to receive help will either lie fluently or refuse, and the lie is worth more to the program than to him. Do not select him by category, because naming his group is how you strengthen its claim. Work through the ties he already has, and pay for the ones he needs: the wife, the child, the mother, the job that puts him beside three men who are not from his old crew, the housing that is not on the old street. Where the family is willing, make it the unit and say so. Where the state must offer belonging, it has to have some to offer, which means the shortage runs deeper than the counterterrorism budget.

And measure behavior only. Belief was installed by a society before the man could think, and it will be revised by a society after he stops paying attention.

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