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Jason Arday and the Machinery of Cruelty

26 0
17.08.2026

CounterPunch Exclusives

CounterPunch Exclusives

Jason Arday and the Machinery of Cruelty

Jason Arday, Wikimedia Commons. CC0.

I am sickened and deeply saddened by the death of Jason Arday. He was only 41, a young man whose life was cut short following a period of intense public controversy and scrutiny, much of it shaped by pressures and forces far larger than any one individual should have to bear. His death is first and foremost a profound human tragedy. But mourning him also requires that we look beyond the immediate circumstances of this tragedy and ask difficult questions about the society and institutions that created the wider conditions in which his ordeal unfolded.

Jason Arday’s death needs to be understood within the wider structures of power that shaped his ordeal. The liberal language of “accountability and humanity” individualizes the tragedy and leaves untouched the larger machinery of power that determines whose errors become scandals, whose vulnerabilities become public spectacles, whose failures are forgiven, and who is forced to carry the burden of institutional racism.

There is far more at work here than a failure to balance accountability with compassion. To frame this simply as a problem of public judgment, social media excess, university malpractice, or the need for greater civility is to ignore the structures of power that make some people far more vulnerable than others to humiliation, abandonment, and public condemnation.

Nor can what happened to Jason Arday be separated from the larger political landscape in which cruelty, disposability, and racialized violence have increasingly become normalized. Across the globe, governments are waging war on immigrants and people of color, criminalizing dissent, expanding regimes of surveillance and repression, and embracing policies of expulsion, exclusion, and racial cleansing. Gaza has become the most horrifying expression of this machinery of death, with children killed on a staggering scale and an entire population subjected to devastation, displacement, and hunger. At the same time, grotesque levels of inequality condemn millions to insecurity and abandonment, while the planet is sacrificed to the demands of profit and militarism. These are not isolated developments.

They bear the mobilizing passions of fascism: the manufacture of enemies, the celebration of cruelty, the contempt for vulnerability, the racial sorting of human beings, the militarization of knowledge, and the elevation of violence into a governing principle. In such a world, what happened to Jason Arday cannot be reduced to a private tragedy or explained solely through the circumstances of an individual life. His death points to something larger and more disturbing. It forces us to confront a social order that increasingly trades in disposability, human suffering, war, and cruelty, and then treats the casualties it produces as if they were merely private misfortunes.

It is within this broader culture of disposability and cruelty that Arday’s death takes on its larger significance. Systemic racism and a social order organized around greed, dispossession, hierarchy, and profound inequality do not operate in the abstract. The legacies of colonialism have not disappeared. They have been absorbed into institutions, cultural assumptions, and structures of privilege that continue to determine who belongs, who is protected, whose mistakes can be survived, and who is subjected to relentless scrutiny.

For generations, Black and brown scholars have been forced to carry burdens their white colleagues rarely encounter: the demand to represent an entire race, to prove repeatedly that they deserve to occupy spaces historically denied to them, and to endure forms of scrutiny in which professional criticism can quickly become a racially charged judgment on their intelligence, legitimacy, and very right to belong. These burdens speak to institutions still haunted by the ghosts of a colonial past and........

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