Since Jason Arday’s death, there has been a great deal of discussion about why the institutions that had promoted and rewarded him showed such credulity about the integrity of his work and plausibility of his biographical claims. In what follows, I will put aside questions about Arday’s rise to focus on how he fell. Although his education and contributions, such as they were, were in other fields, his last job title had “sociology” in it, and sociology has a lot to say about the causes and consequences of his disgrace and death.
In his 2008 book On Scandal, sociologist Ari Adut shows that scandal is less about transgression than accusation. Even widespread shared knowledge of a transgression spread by gossip is insufficient to create scandal until a public accusation creates public knowledge of the relevant behavior and its violation of a generally accepted moral code. The relevant audience might have known of the transgression but can choose to ignore it until an accuser obliges the audience to take a position on it. However, the accuser may also face a backlash, especially if the accused’s supporters find it easier to emphasize the accuser’s harassment than to defend the accused’s behavior.
Adut’s most vivid example is Oscar Wilde. The Victorians weren’t so naive as to understand Wilde as a man who directed his sexual attention solely to women, but it was awkward to broach the subject, especially given that Wilde was a beloved bon vivant. Shared knowledge of Wilde’s sexuality turned into scandalous public knowledge when the Marquess of Queensberry took revenge on the writer, whom he blamed for corrupting his son, by leaving a calling card addressed to “Oscar Wilde, posing sodomite.” Wilde took the bait and sued Queensberry for libel, but Queensberry had private detectives who were prepared to back up the accusation.