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The has prompted an outpouring of emotion and concern across the country, and understandably so.

It has been a shocking turn of events, and whatever the context of the story and whatever was true and whatever was not, he was someone’s child, a father and a partner. Let us not forget that in all the debates that follow.

Of course, his role made him a prominent public figure, and with that comes scrutiny. I accept that entirely.

But I am not sure it explains the scale of what happened, and it does not explain how quickly the scrutiny moved off his work and on to him as a person. The weight of scrutiny for some is far greater than it is for others.

If you are Black or Asian, I suspect you understood why that was immediately.

The truth about meritocracy

Because while talk of meritocracy and the promise that if you work hard enough, qualify highly enough and play by the rules, you will be judged fairly, is commonplace, we saw that, for leaders of colour, it is not like that.

A recent example proves the point. When Sir Hamid Patel was appointed interim chair of Ofsted in March 2025, he arrived with a record almost nobody in education could argue with.

A knighthood for services to education. Chief executive of a trust running dozens of schools, many in the most deprived communities in the country, several of them among the highest performing in England. Six years already served on the Ofsted board.

Within hours, X filled with racist and Islamophobic abuse. Far-right accounts questioned his loyalty to the country. Politicians in another country weighed in with claims of an Islamist takeover of English schools.

None of it was about school improvement. All of it was about who he is.

What do we do now?

That is the lesson so many of my colleagues absorbed this week, whether or not they said it out loud.

Even if you become highly qualified, prove yourself, integrate, assimilate, keep your head down and let the work do the talking, you will still come under intense scrutiny.

So what do we do? What does education learn from this? How do we ensure that Black and Asian teachers feel they can reach headship and, perhaps more fundamentally, want to reach it?

It is about allyship. We need all leaders - and statistically that will mean white leaders - to stand up and be counted.

Not because Black people need rescuing. Not because we cannot speak for ourselves.

But because silence from people with power is never neutral.

If nothing is said, it tells the person experiencing it that they are on their own. It tells the bystanders there is no cost to saying nothing. Most dangerously, it tells the people growing bolder by the month that they have permission.

The old defences are gone. Not wanting to add fuel to it no longer holds. Neither does not wanting to get political, when the politics in question are about whether your colleagues are treated as fully human at work.

I have also heard a lot of people say they do not know what to do. I understand that. It is honest, and it is better than pretending. But doing nothing is still a decision.

Silence is not an option

Silence is compliance. Staying out of it does not make you neutral, it just means things carry on exactly as they are. That is usually all the status quo needs - not villains but good people, unsure of the right words, saying nothing at all.

There is one more reason why this has to come from white leaders, and it is the one I feel most strongly about.

The risk is not shared equally.

Too often the person experiencing racism is also the person expected to notice it, name it, explain it, evidence it and challenge it. Then we leave them to live with whatever happens next. A reputation for being difficult. Invitations that stop coming. Promotions never received.

If you can say something at less cost than the person standing next to you, that is not a reason to hesitate. It is the reason it should be you.

It matters, too, because prejudice has never confined itself neatly to one category of person.

The person furious that a Black or Asian colleague got the job may also resent women being promoted, may resent LGBTQ+ colleagues asking for equality, may resent disabled colleagues asking for reasonable adjustments, may resent anyone who disturbs a comfortable hierarchy.

Once we accept that people’s dignity is negotiable, somebody will decide that yours is, too, eventually.

So firstly, yes, private solidarity matters. A message saying “I see what is happening and I am here for you” can mean a great deal. But there comes a point where private sympathy has to become public conviction.

Practical steps forward

So, plainly:

• If you lead an organisation, say where you stand, in your own name, publicly.
• Check in on colleagues. Most of us are on our summer break, which means many are sitting with this alone, away from the people they would normally turn to at work. If they want to speak, listen, without asking them to justify why it has affected them.
• If you see one member of staff being scrutinised in a way others are not, ask why, out loud, in the room.
• If your organisation talks about values and then goes quiet the moment those values cost something, ask the uncomfortable question.
• If you are the only person in the room who can say it without professional risk, that is precisely why you should.
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We cannot control every headline. We cannot control every algorithm. We cannot control which political movement gains ground next.

We can control what we tolerate, what we challenge and what we are willing to put our name to. That is why silence is no longer an option.

Sufian Sadiq is chief talent and transformation officer at Chiltern Learning Trust

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