EDI

Watching the latest pile-on unfold on X, I realised I’d run out of reasons not to write this. Because the truth is, none of it surprised me.

Universities have spent the last decade telling us everyone should be judged equally. Except, rather obviously, they don’t mean equally...

They mean fairly. Provided you fit the right profile.

Equality? Absolutely. Nobody should be disadvantaged because of their sex, race, disability, sexuality or religion. That isn’t remotely controversial. Nor should it be. Most decent people agreed with that long before universities discovered PowerPoint.

Unfortunately universities can’t leave anything alone. Equality became less of a principle and more of a career path. Suddenly there were committees, champions, networks, strategies and mandatory training sessions. Along with an impressive number of people on very comfortable salaries whose principal contribution to the university appeared to be explaining ‘basic decency’ to adults who’d somehow managed to function perfectly well without them for decades.

I also noticed something else. Universities became obsessed with words.

Nobody is ever biased. They have unconscious bias. Oddly, it only seems to become visible in people who disagree with the person identifying it.

Nobody disagrees. They fail to create psychologically safe spaces. Which increasingly seems to mean hearing an opinion you don't like.

Nobody gets things wrong. They are on a learning journey. A phrase once reserved for children. It has since been promoted to senior management.

Nobody is sacked. They pursue opportunities elsewhere. Apparently they all decide it's time for a new challenge

Nobody ever simply has an opinion anymore. They occupy a positionality. An opinion, but with a reading list.

Nobody lies. They create alternative narratives. Reality, it seems, has become surprisingly negotiable.

Nobody fails. They don’t quite meet the required standard.

Nobody has common sense. They have lived experience. Apparently they’re not the same thing.

Nobody bullies. They hold people to account. Usually from a position of moral superiority.

Nobody tells you to be quiet. They question whether your contribution is helpful.

Nobody censors ideas. They ask whether those ideas should really be given a ‘platform’.

Nobody redefines language. They evolve it.

The irony, of course, is that universities now contain the widest range of demographic diversity I’ve ever seen. Provided it isn't diversity of opinion.

The Training

It always starts with an email titled Mandatory. Such a lovely word. Nothing says ‘open discussion’ quite like compulsory attendance.

You join the Teams meeting. Ninety-odd people. Cameras off. Microphones muted. Half the room are answering emails. The other half are wondering whether they did exactly the same training twelve months ago under a different title.

The trainer appears. Smiling. Always smiling. With the unmistakable confidence of someone whose entire career depends on believing the rest of us are the problem. We’re welcomed. We’re thanked for attending. We’re told this is a safe space. It isn’t. It’s a recorded Teams meeting. There is a difference.

Questions are encouraged. Open discussion is encouraged. Honesty is encouraged. Correct answers are preferred.

Then it comes. The trainer looks around the room.

“So ... What have you done not to be racist today?”

Silence. Not because nobody has an answer. Because everyone is thinking exactly the same thing.

What the actual fuck?

It’s an extraordinary way to introduce yourself. We’ve known each other for approximately forty-five seconds and apparently the working assumption is that every single person in the room is racist until they can demonstrate otherwise.

I’ve always thought it worked the other way round. How silly of me. I tend to assume the best in people until they prove me wrong. Universities seem to have adopted a different model.

This time, I reverted to my default setting and decided to be a twat. I put my hand up. The trainer smiled. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you start?” I said. “You know... enlighten us.”

Silence.

“What have you done today not to be racist?”

I thought it was a perfectly reasonable icebreaker.

Silence. Real silence. The sort of silence that only exists in universities.

Ninety people suddenly become fascinated by their keyboards. Nobody looks up. Nobody moves.

The trainer smiled.

“Right...”

Then we moved swiftly on to the next slide.

Apparently that wasn’t the ice-breaker they’d planned. Personally, I thought it broke the ice rather well. It did leave me wondering, though. If the question only works in one direction, perhaps it isn’t really a question. It’s a test.

The correct answer already exists. Your job is simply to discover it.

The rest of the session unfolds exactly as you’d expect. We discuss unconscious bias. Apparently we all have it. We discuss privilege. Apparently we all have that too. We discuss allyship. Apparently we’re all expected to aspire to it. We discuss lived experience. Apparently some experiences carry more authority than others. We discuss psychological safety. Apparently that’s achieved by ensuring nobody says anything remotely controversial.

For a discussion, there wasn't much discussion. What we don’t discuss is whether any of it can actually be questioned.

There is always one person who asks something perfectly reasonable. Not offensive. Not confrontational. Just hilariously awkward.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“Has any of the evidence shown these training sessions actually change people’s behaviour?”

Silence. The atmosphere changes instantly.

The trainer smiles. “That’s a really interesting perspective.”

I’ve been in universities long enough to know that’s not a compliment.It’s the academic equivalent of, “Let’s move on.”

Two hours later we’re finished. Apparently we’ve reflected. Apparently we’ve challenged ourselves. What we have done though is completed the mandatory feedback form. Course we have. The university records another hundred per cent completion rate.

Job done.

We arrived as presumed racists. We left as certified non-racists. All in two hours. If only solving every social problem were that straightforward.

The Performance

The thing about EDI is that it doesn’t stay in the training room. It follows you.

Into emails. Application forms. Promotion criteria. Committee meetings. Conference registrations. Eventually it arrives in your email signature.

“Please add your pronouns.”

I didn’t. I was reminded. I still didn’t. I was reminded again. At one point I suggested using my own. I asked whether “Fuck Around/Find Out” counted. It didn’t. For reasons that remain unclear, it wasn’t accepted. It turns out sarcasm isn’t a protected characteristic. Who knew.

That rather summed the whole thing up. We’re constantly told to bring our authentic selves to work. Unless, of course, your authentic self colours outside the lines. Then we’d rather you brought somebody else’s. Universities don’t want authenticity. They want authenticity that’s institutionally convenient.

Everything has become performative. Nobody asks whether you’re a decent colleague. Whether you mentor junior staff. Whether you make time for struggling students. Whether you’ve treated people fairly over the last twenty years.

No.

What matters is whether you’ve mastered the language. Using the right words. Knowing the script.Universities have become obsessed with what people say. I’m far more interested in what people actually do. I’ve met people who can deliver a flawless lecture on inclusion while treating colleagues appallingly. Funny how the people who talk most about kindness are often some of the nastiest people I’ve ever worked with. They also seem to have the longest list of colleagues they no longer speak to. Obviously it wasn’t their fault.

I’ve also met people who wouldn’t know what intersectionality means if you tattooed the definition on their forehead. Yet, they’d still be the first person to help a struggling student. Stay behind after class. Miss their lunch break. Answer emails late into the evening. They don’t need a framework to tell them not to be an arsehole. They just aren’t one. Strange how the genuinely decent people rarely feel the need to keep reminding everyone they are.

I’ve also noticed something else.

Universities love diversity. The sort you can count. The sort that helps a KPI. The sort that makes a graph move in the right direction. The other sort, the awkward people who disagree with everyone else, has a habit of being described as “not aligned with our values.” Not because they’re offensive. Not because they’re rude. Not because they’re discriminatory. Just because they disagree.

You already know what happens next. A working group is established. Mandatory training is expanded. A new policy is launched. Success is measured by attendance. Nothing changes.

The Good People

Every university has them. My favourite type of people. The good people. They don’t call themselves that, obviously. They don’t have to. The title is simply assumed. I've never managed to make the shortlist.

One thing they never seem to struggle with is doubt. Not just that they’re right. But that being right makes them better. They don’t really argue with you. They explain why you think that. Apparently you’re privileged. Or problematic. Or speaking from a position of ignorance. Or lacking self-awareness. Or unsafe. Or you need to educate yourself. Funny how your argument is rarely the problem. You are.

Universities employ some of the brightest people in the country … well they used to. They could dismantle your argument. Instead, now they dismantle your reputation. It’s much quicker. Once you’ve been labelled privileged, or problematic, or unsafe or not aligned with our values, you stop being an academic with a different opinion. You become the problem academic. The person the teachers pet colleagues quietly distance themselves from. The person managers suddenly become ‘concerned’ about. The person put on the ‘SMT watch list'.

See, the argument doesn’t have to be defeated, it just has to be attached to the wrong person. The problem academic. The good people, naturally, carry on convinced they’re the tolerant ones. The institution sees a moral leader. The rest of us just see a sanctimonious wanker. The funny thing is, they genuinely have no idea. They think people admire them. They don’t. They barely tolerate them. There’s a difference. Nobody wants to sit next to them at lunch. Nobody wants to get trapped talking to them after a meeting. Because every conversation eventually becomes a lesson. About privilege. About power. About allyship. About why you’re the problem. About why they are right.

They’re always the first to tell you they’re avoiding conflict. They’re also the first to copy in HR. The first to email your line manager. The first to produce a six-page chronology explaining why you’re the problem. There’ll be bold text. Occasionally a bit of red font. Just to make absolutely sure management doesn’t miss the bit where they’re the victim and you’re the problem. Power, it seems, is only a problem when somebody else has it.

It’s amazing what you can justify once you’ve convinced yourself you’re one of the good people. They’ll tell you universities should challenge ideas. Not theirs, obviously. Yours.

The funny thing is, they never actually argue with your ideas. They argue with you, that’s much easier. And if that doesn’t work... well, HR are only an email away.

The Rules

The rules were actually quite simple. Until they weren’t.

Everyone was equal. Until someone more equal turned up.

Judge people as individuals. Unless judging them by the group they belong to gives you the answer you wanted.

Don’t stereotype. Unless it’s one of the approved stereotypes. Those are apparently evidence-based.

Don’t discriminate. Unless it’s positive discrimination. Then it’s not really discrimination anymore.

Don’t judge someone by the colour of their skin. Unless they’re white.

Don’t judge someone because they’re a man. Unless they’re a man. I mean, I am assuming we're still allowed to say ‘man’.

Apparently that’s not prejudice. It’s progress.

Equality actually used to be quite straightforward. Until it became a weapon..

Anyway.

After years of training.. Countless workshops. Mandatory modules. Equality impact assessments. Action plans. Steering groups. Champions. Networks. Frameworks. Toolkits. Working groups. We finally got there. EDI won. Nobody had the faintest fucking idea what they were allowed to say anymore. Well done.

Take a room full of intelligent people. People whose entire career is supposed to involve questioning things. Arguing. Testing ideas. Disagreeing. Then teach them to stop and mentally risk assess every sentence before it leaves their mouth. Not because they’re wrong. Because one opinion isn’t worth six months of bullshit.

Universities spent centuries teaching people how to think. The last decade has been spent telling them what to think.

Progress … apparently.

But then Cambridge happened.

Not the plagiarism. The reaction.

Within hours, academics were on X telling everyone exactly where they stood. Not after looking at the evidence.

Before.

Not everyone reacted like that. Just the university’s self-appointed moral guardians.

The ones forever reminding everyone else about integrity, accountability and academic standards. For them, this stopped being about plagiarism the moment it became a test of ideological loyalty. It wasn’t that plagiarism had become acceptable. It was that some people had become unacceptable to accuse of it.

That’s the bit worth paying attention to.

For years we’ve been told that universities are built on evidence. Integrity. Academic standards. Following the facts wherever they lead. Apparently there was an asterisk. *Terms and conditions apply.

Integrity is absolute. Until it becomes inconvenient.

Evidence is everything. Until it points in the wrong direction.

Academic misconduct is unacceptable. Unless accusing the wrong person becomes the greater offence.

Then the rules change. Or perhaps they don’t.

Perhaps they’ve always been the same. They’ve just never applied equally. Which is useful to know.

So the next time a university tells you it’s committed to integrity, evidence and academic standards...

...don’t ask whether it believes those principles.

Ask whether it still believes them when they're no longer convenient.