Two seemingly unrelated events are tied at the hip.

Jason Arday was a professor at Cambridge University. On the one hand, I owe Cambridge a bit of thanks. When we went to row at the Henley Royal Regatta, we had oars but no boat. Churchill College, our Leverett House sister school, loaned us one of theirs for the race. When the competition was over — which for us was before it began — we sold them our oars so as not to have to schlep them back to the U.S. Even with a bit of thanks, one has to laugh at one of the oldest institutions of higher education in the world.

Cambridge elevated Jason Arday to professor. It did so not because of his academic accomplishments or his intellectual prowess. He has been credibly accused of plagiarism, and his doctoral thesis makes it appear that English is his fifth language. Cambridge made him a professor not because of what he was, but rather what they fantasized him to be. They saw a black man with dreadlocks and realized that he would be perfect for their DEI dreams. That he was unaccomplished and apparently not up on English grammar made no difference. It’s like the guy who is enamored with his daughter’s super-rich boyfriend. He’s a jerk, a lout, and a fool, but he has an expensive car and a lot of money in the bank. The latter attributes outweigh by far the former. When a journalist began to ask questions, Arday sicced the police on him; They told the writer to lay off, as his asking questions was causing anxiety in Cambridge’s cardboard professor. Their investigation lasted four months! When three institutions said that he had never worked for them — though his CV claimed otherwise — and The Telegraph revealed that his claims of having written a book were false, the ersatz professor fell on his DEI sword and tendered his resignation. Maybe there is a Starbucks or fast food joint nearby in need of a photogenic employee with a big smile.

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