There was a clear public interest in the allegations against Arday. Yet, as the head of the School of Journalism, Media and Culture at Cardiff University Matt Walsh<\/a>, recently reflected, \u201cthe penalty he paid \u2026 was out of all proportion to any offence he may have committed\u201d. Walsh, (a Trustee of The Conversation UK) counted 242 articles about Arday in British newspapers between July 25 and August 20.<\/p>\n Cambridge University Chancellor Chris Smith spoke of a \u201cracist feeding frenzy\u201d<\/a> that had centred on Arday. A joint statement from Amnesty UK\u2019s<\/a> anti-racism and disabled people\u2019s networks warned that \u201caccountability cannot become a licence for dehumanisation. Public discussion must not devolve into relentless speculation, humiliation, harassment and digital bullying\u201d.<\/p>\n As a cultural historian, the scapegoat was the archetype that came to mind for me as scrutiny of Arday intensified. Public interest and truth do not operate in a social vacuum, and nor are they doled out equally regardless of colour. Arday\u2019s alleged wrongdoing became a racialised spectacle centred on one visible and vulnerable autistic man<\/a>.<\/p>\n What does it mean to scapegoat a person? Rowan Williams, the former archbishop of Canterbury, described Arday\u2019s treatment as pre-modern sacrificial behaviour<\/a>, calling him \u201cthe outsider selected for both sacred dignity and ritual humiliation\u201d.<\/p>\n Williams\u2019 intervention is significant because the word \u201cscapegoat\u201d derives from scripture. In the Hebrew Bible, one goat was sacrificed while the community\u2019s sins were placed symbolically upon another. That goat was driven into the wilderness, purifying the community by locating wrongdoing somewhere else. The same process happens symbolically within families, societies and institutions.<\/p>\n The justifications of those who continually criticised Arday focused on accountability as an excuse \u2013 \u201cBut he lied\u2026\u201d. But scapegoating isn\u2019t about accountability, though identifying some degree of error or fault makes that an easier claim. Accountability asks what happened, which standards apply and where responsibility lies. Scapegoating expands a specific question into a total judgement of character. As such, it burdens one person with failures extending far beyond their own actions.<\/p>\n Those involved need no shared intention. A journalist may pursue a legitimate question about transparency; a culture-war commentator may attack diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) schemes; an institution might protect their own interests; an anonymous person posting online may enjoy humiliating a stranger. Different motives can converge on one target, and each repetition licenses the next. <\/p>\n What was missing then, and remains missing now, is a recognition of what scapegoating does and why it happens. <\/p>\n In my book, A Biography of Loneliness<\/a>, I show how loneliness, like scapegoating, emerges when individuals bear the effects of structural failures. Scapegoating can offer lonely or alienated people a false form of belonging through shared condemnation. It is easier to condemn an individual than to confront powerful people or change systems.<\/p>\n Claims of plagiarism<\/a>, citation errors and embellishment are normally addressed by academic processes. The University of Cambridge opened an investigation, yet almost immediately Arday came to represent Black academics<\/a>, DEI schemes, Cambridge\u2019s recruitment practices and even the discipline of sociology. One article in a US tabloid called him a \u201cgrifter\u201d produced by \u201cBLM psychosis\u201d<\/a>.<\/p>\n Scapegoating provides people with a convenient target. When there is fear and perceived powerlessness, attacking someone else offers emotional and social relief. And digital media provides a platform for gut reactions \u2013 \u201cmoral outrage\u201d<\/a> \u2013 over the slower, harder work of withholding judgement until the evidence is in. <\/p>\n German-American political theorist Hannah Arendt placed loneliness<\/a> at the heart of totalitarianism: isolation makes people feel powerless and weakens their sense of a shared world. Digital platforms promise community at the same time as they facilitate outrage. Diffuse anger seeks a visible object, and social hierarchies help determine who can plausibly be blamed.<\/p>\n A long history of racism made Arday\u2019s visibility relevant. Only around 1%<\/a> of the UK\u2019s professors are Black. His long dreadlocks and love of bespoke tailoring<\/a> made him instantly recognisable, photographed against Cambridge stone in academic regalia. The Black US linguist and professor John H. McWhorter wrote that those who promoted him saw Arday as a \u201cperforming monkey\u201d<\/a>. <\/p>\n How we talk about appearance matters. As the media storm grew, columnists referred to Arday as a \u201cdisgraced dreadlocked prof\u201d<\/a>, and a \u201csmiling assassin\u201d<\/a>. The features that made him recognisable turned into shorthand for dismissing him.<\/p>\n In another of my books, The Face: A Cultural History<\/a>, I show how faces have been used for centuries to impose hierarchies of intelligence, character and honesty. Physiognomy and racial science made Black features supposed \u201cevidence\u201d of inferiority, dishonesty or danger. <\/p>\nWhen accountability becomes scapegoating<\/h2>\n
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