It will come as news to no one at a Western university that promoting inclusion and equity is all the rage.

In the UK, working groups of faculty and professional staff are formed in every subject to find new ways of meeting diversity needs. Screens all over campus show university leaders, staff and students swearing to stop at nothing until their institution is a bastion of harmony.

Neurodiversity has recently been gaining particular attention, and advice abounds on how to ensure that neurodiverse students reach their full potential at university.?But what about academics who are neurodiverse, such as myself? While I do not know the statistics, I am sure that if we could account for both diagnosed and undiagnosed cases, academics would be found to be far more neurodiverse than the general population, especially in fields like mine, economics, that include many researchers who are very mathematically inclined.

Hence, I am hugely surprised that in this era of EDI, there remains widespread intolerance of one of neurodiversity¡¯s manifestations: bluntness.

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Neurodiversity is not the only source of miscommunication. Many colleagues grew up, like myself, in non-English-speaking environments. Non-native or bilingual speakers may phrase things by translating them from other languages, introducing subtle changes they may not realise. Moreover, there can be any number of issues of subtle etiquette or netiquette that colleagues from abroad are not familiar with; those who have been in the UK for decades tell me they are still occasionally learning about how various mannerisms of theirs should be revised.

In my case, people in the Mediterranean country where I mostly grew up tend to speak more directly than the British. One would think it would be easy for mature adults to work around these slight differences in communication style with understanding. However, there seems to be an epidemic of mostly British people, among both professional staff and faculty, who seem determined to understand anything said by their colleagues in the most offensive way possible.

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Numerous colleagues who tend to speak or write more directly, with fewer pleases and if it¡¯s not too much troubles than the locals and neurotypicals, are telling me of cases in which they¡¯ve been reported to their line managers or subject leads for being, in someone else¡¯s eyes, offensive.?Ambiguities of intent in emails and Teams messages are repeatedly being interpreted in the worst light possible, leading to a parade of misunderstood colleagues (particularly those from the Mediterranean and eastern Europe) being invited to little ¡°talks¡± with their bosses.

To illustrate how absurd the situation has become, in one Zoom meeting involving both faculty and professional services, I remarked in the chat function on how it is difficult for us to find certain resources on our subject¡¯s Microsoft SharePoint pages. I wanted to convey that, nevertheless, I did not hold it against anyone in the meeting, so I put a smiley emoji at the end of the sentence.

Resources on making campuses neurodivergent friendly

I thought nothing of it until a member of our subject leadership asked me to come to his office; apparently, some professional service colleagues thought I had used the smiley to mock them. Luckily, he is also Mediterranean and knew I meant no ill will; I offered an apology to the anonymous complainer and the matter never progressed further. But not all colleagues have been so lucky.

Don¡¯t get me wrong ¨C obviously, when people come from a place with a different way of speaking or writing, they should make some effort to adjust, to try to notice when a literal translation into English may have an undesirable connotation and to realise how their words, tones or motions may be misinterpreted.

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Similarly, neurodiversity is not an excuse for everything; individuals such as me need to make an effort to fit in that, perhaps, others do not. But the inclusivity and equity that populate university banners and mantras should prevent us from being branded obtuse, difficult or offensive if we have so far not met our colleagues all the way into the depths of their linguistic comfort zone.

Even if my smiley was ambiguous, for instance, why would there be an assumption that it was meant maliciously? Wouldn¡¯t the benefit of the doubt be the tolerant response? Rather than reporting me to the subject leadership, wouldn¡¯t it have been better to drop me a message seeking clarification? A quick cup of coffee at one of the department¡¯s little kitchens could have been a wonderful way to clear the air.

Assuming the worst about colleagues¡¯ intentions will only lead to a culture of fear, where neurodiverse colleagues and those from non-anglophone backgrounds are scared for their reputations and even their jobs to speak up on any matter, be it on research, teaching, student satisfaction, supervision, administrative tasks or anything else that is important to a functioning department.

An onslaught of complaints to line managers will only divide. Much better to go the extra inch ¨C a variant of the ¡°extra mile¡± since it is really such a small thing to ask ¨C to understand, enquire and mend.

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Our workplaces will truly be inclusive and equitable when we can all assume that even if a colleague may talk, write and act a little differently from us, they share similar aspirations for a pleasant and productive working environment. And surely we don¡¯t need widespread training to get us there?

The author is an academic at a UK university.