The Right to Be Devastatingly Disappointing: A Reflection on Professor Jason Arday

Over the past few months, the story of Professor Jason Arday has captured our attention, culminating in the tragedy of his untimely death at 41. The response from various sectors of the Black community, alongside a statement from the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, has prompted me to reflect deeply on his passing. My thoughts intertwine with my childhood experiences, and I invite you to journey with me as I explore this complex narrative.

Childhood Lessons on Excellence

My mother was a primary school teacher. Like many children with a teaching parent, I felt the weight of expectations during the summer holidays. The ideals of excellence: working hard, achieving well, and taking pride in my output were woven into the fabric of my upbringing. However, these standards never felt like prerequisites for love or belonging.

Excellence can manifest as an internal standard, a commitment to the quality of our work and the fullest use of our capacities. It brings satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment, especially when we overcome challenges. Yet, excellence can also morph into an external demand, a price some of us are compelled to pay for legitimacy and recognition of our humanity.

This reflection on Professor Arday’s death leads me to what I now term the right to be devastatingly disappointing.

Claiming the Right to Disappoint

For several years, whenever someone praised me as amazing or exceptional, I would assert my right to disappoint or annoy them. Following Professor Arday’s death, I have come to embrace the notion of the right to be devastatingly disappointing. This concept allows me to produce something ordinary, to err, to exercise poor judgment, and to be unremarkable on any given day.

The right to be devastatingly disappointing is not an endorsement of mediocrity or a defense of wrongdoing. It is a rejection of the notion that Black individuals must be exceptional to occupy spaces where others are simply allowed to exist.

I have concluded that my pursuit of excellence is personal; it is driven by my internal standards. It is not the rent I pay for existing in this world or for my humanity to be acknowledged. The condition of my being here cannot hinge on the expectation that I must be superhuman.

This stance requires a delicate balance: striving for excellence as my own internal standard while simultaneously rejecting the notion that excellence is a prerequisite for my existence.

The condition of my being here cannot be that I must be superhuman.

In light of Professor Arday’s untimely death, I find myself contemplating this duality more profoundly.

From Accountability to Punishment

In the wake of the allegations surrounding Professor Arday (whose merits are not the focus of this discussion) there are essential conversations about academic standards, plagiarism, and institutional due diligence. Black scholars are not immune to criticism, and our communities need not defend the indefensible. However, legitimate scrutiny cannot fully explain the scale of what transpired with Professor Arday.

He faced relentless media scrutiny: reports indicate that there were 249 national press articles about him across 15 UK media outlets in just 22 days leading up to his tragic passing. Of those, 188 articles were published in the last nine days of his life. Yet, just nine days after his death, the media shifted focus, with only 10 articles published in the following three days. The allegations against him transformed from questions about his academic scholarship into a broader ideological debate about diversity, institutional standards, and whether Black individuals were qualified for the spaces they occupied.

I argue that these inquiries extend beyond ordinary accountability. True accountability asks: Did the work meet the required standard? If not, what is the appropriate institutional response? In contrast, racialised judgement probes deeper: What does this alleged failure reveal about the individual and whether others who share their identity should be allowed in these spaces?

Jack Warner and the Selective Force of Scrutiny

I have witnessed this pattern before. Years ago, while living in Trinidad and Tobago, I observed the treatment of Jack Warner, the former president of CONCACAF and vice-president of FIFA, amid serious allegations of corruption during the 2015 FIFA Corruption Scandal. International journalists flocked to the island, and the U.S. government sought Warner’s extradition under a sweeping indictment for racketeering and corruption.

My point is not to suggest that Warner should have been shielded from investigation or that he was innocent. Rather, I aim to question the racial undertones in the accusations against Warner compared to those levied against European FIFA officials accused of similar corruption. The fervent coverage of his case stands in stark contrast to the treatment of others, such as then FIFA President Sepp Blatter, who also faced corruption allegations and was forced to resign shortly after his re-election.

What Accounts for the Extra Nine Minutes?

What resonates with me now, in light of Professor Arday’s treatment, is the question of excess. It is not about whether investigation or accountability was warranted, but rather what explains the additional humiliation, the relentless pursuit, and the transformation of one individual into a public spectacle. Why does punishment seem to linger indefinitely?

I do not invoke lightly the nine minutes and 29 seconds that Derek Chauvin held his knee on George Floyd’s neck. Yet, I must raise this comparison because those nine minutes and 29 seconds compel us to confront a fundamental question: When legitimate grounds for restraint or accountability have been exhausted, why does the knee remain on the neck?

When legitimate grounds for restraint or accountability have been exhausted, why does the knee remain on the neck?

Where Disproportion Measures Racialisation

I contend that the disproportionate response, the excess, embodies the burden of racialisation. Accountability may clarify the portion of the response that aligns with the act. However, racialisation elucidates the excess, which I term the punitive surplus. This surplus manifests as additional scrutiny, an insistence on complete degradation, and a duration of punishment that the alleged wrongdoing cannot adequately justify.

This excess is not incidental; it reveals how much more a Black individual is compelled to bear. The punitive surplus illustrates the point at which an individual wrong transcends personal accountability and becomes emblematic of a broader narrative about Black incapacity or illegitimate presence.

I do not assert that every critique of Professor Arday was racially motivated. Instead, I propose a more nuanced argument: once we acknowledge the legitimate grounds for scrutiny, we must still grapple with the excess, the punitive surplus. Why does this individual become the singular face of a systemic failure? Why does the alleged wrongdoing extend beyond the individual and become racially representative? Why does no degree of punishment seem sufficient to quell the crowd’s appetite for retribution?

Reclaiming the Right to Be Human: Excellence without Captivity

The punitive surplus is not always about fabricated guilt. The demand for invented guilt belongs to an older paradigm in which we believed we had to be flawless to demand fairness and justice. The punitive surplus can arise in response to real, disputed, or alleged wrongdoing.

This is why the right to be devastatingly disappointing holds significance.

My insistence on the right to be devastatingly disappointing, to be less than perfect, is the right to have wrongdoing, whether true or not, met with a response proportional to the act. It is the right to due process, correction rather than annihilation, and individual accountability instead of bearing the collective weight of a racial indictment. Above all, it is the right to retain one's humanity after one has ceased to be exemplary.

The right of Black people to be disappointing...is the right to retain one's humanity after one has ceased to be exemplary.

The right to disappoint challenges the notion that excellence is the entry fee to humanity. It rejects the idea that wrongdoing erases that humanity or that accountability necessitates a spectacle or the surrender of one’s dignity to the whims of a crowd.

Black individuals must remain accountable, but we must also retain our humanity. This means holding onto the right to be excellent while also embracing the right to be devastatingly disappointing, without our shortcomings determining our humanity or the worthiness of others who share our identity to occupy the same spaces.

Conclusion: A Call for Reflection

As I reflect on the life and legacy of Professor Jason Arday, I am reminded of the complexities surrounding excellence, accountability, and our shared humanity. The right to be devastatingly disappointing is not merely a personal mantra; it is a collective call for understanding and compassion.

In a world that often demands perfection, let us remember that our worth is not contingent upon our ability to meet those expectations. Instead, we must advocate for a space where all individuals, regardless of their background, can exist authentically flaws and all.

References

1. "The press wrote 188 articles at Jason Arday in his last nine days alive. Nine days after his death, it had moved on: 10 articles in three days". Newscord. August 23, 2026. Retrieved August 26, 2026.
2. "George Floyd: What happened in the final moments of his life". BBC News. May 30, 2020. Retrieved August 26, 2026.