I have been struggling to find the right words for this, because the last few days have been disappointing in ways that are difficult to express.
As a non-binary person, learning more about some of the views that have been expressed publicly has been painful and unsettling. I do not think that can simply be separated from the broader discussion we have been having about academic freedom, political context, and the kind of academic community this conference is trying to build.
I also believe that a number of important and legitimate concerns raised during this discussion were not really addressed. Questions about context, about the relevance of Cofnas's broader intellectual and political record, about race, power, and consistency in how we decide when political context matters were too often reduced to the idea that people were being called racist by association, or answered by reiterating that the issue was simply one of academic freedom.
I still think those concerns matter. But at this point, that is not what matters most to me.
What matters most to me is the future of this conference.
I do not want to see it collapse. I do not want to see people I respect and care about feel that their only option is to leave. And I do not want the outcome of all of this to be the cancellation of the conference, followed by a public narrative about how a "woke mob" destroyed a Warhammer conference because it could not tolerate academic freedom.
That would be a profound misrepresentation of what has happened here.
The people raising concerns are not enemies of academic freedom. Many of us are academics precisely because we value argument, disagreement, intellectual risk, and the ability to examine politically difficult material seriously. The disagreement has never been about whether controversial ideas may be discussed. It has been about whether context matters, how intellectual responsibility operates, and what obligations organisers have when trying to create a space in which people from very different backgrounds can participate meaningfully.
I also want to acknowledge that there have already been clear statements from within the organising team about the kind of academic space this conference is meant to be. Dr Thomas Arnold, for example, has been direct in saying that openly racist, misogynistic, or transphobic papers would not be accepted, and that such papers have not in fact been submitted.
That matters to me, because it shows that this conference has never operated on the premise that academic freedom requires the suspension of all judgement about the content or political implications of academic work. There are already standards. There are already boundaries. The question, then, is not whether we should have them, but how we understand and apply them consistently, responsibly, and transparently.
Thomas also joked that parts of the internet already see the conference as a gathering of "woke lefties." I would much rather we be able to laugh at that caricature than allow it to become the story we tell about ourselves. The choice is not between being a politically homogeneous space and having no standards at all. We can defend disagreement, intellectual freedom, and serious scholarship while also being clear about the kind of environment we are collectively responsible for creating.
For me, this conference matters enormously. My research is centred on Warhammer, and spaces in which that work can be taken seriously as academic research are extraordinarily rare. This conference has given me something that is very difficult to find elsewhere: a community in which this subject can be discussed critically, politically, historically, and theoretically without first having to justify why it deserves academic attention at all.
Because of that, I am not willing to walk away from it.
That is not because I think what has happened is insignificant, and it is not because I am comfortable with everything I have learned. Quite the opposite. I want to remain because I think this space is worth fighting for.
I do not think the answer to a serious conflict about the values and responsibilities of an academic community should be to dissolve the community. Nor do I think anyone should be placed in the position of choosing between remaining silent about genuine concerns and watching something valuable disappear.
I would much rather see the remaining organisers and participants take this moment seriously and ask what kind of conference we want this to be going forward: what academic freedom means in practice, how political disagreement can coexist with responsibility and care, how marginalised scholars can participate without being treated as an obstacle to open debate, and how disagreement can be handled without every criticism being understood as a demand for exclusion or cancellation.
I do not expect ideological agreement. I would not want a conference in which everyone shared the same politics. But I do want a conference capable of surviving disagreement without collapsing into the assumption that criticism is censorship, or that the only alternatives are complete agreement and complete dissolution.
There is something here worth preserving.
I hope we choose to preserve it.