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Jason Arday is dead at forty-one. That is roughly my age; it is the age at which a man is meant to be at the peak of his career. He was found unresponsive in his home in Battersea on the fourteenth of August, nine days after he resigned his chair at Cambridge and three weeks after the British press turned the full weight of its machinery upon him. In the days before he died he told Lord Simon Woolley, principal of Homerton College, that they had “hounded him to death” and that he “could not see a way out”.
These are the words of a man who had been sentenced without trial, a man who understood that the verdict of the majority hordes of Western society could be neither appealed nor escaped.
Between the twenty-fourth of July and the day his death was reported, British newspapers published two hundred and forty-nine articles about him. Most appeared after he had already surrendered…
