Dr Nigel Walton: A free spirit who lived without apologies

By Bhabani Shankar Nayak 

It is difficult to speak of Dr Nigel Walton in the past tense, and even harder to write the obituary of a friend like him. More than a decade of friendship and fun was cut short by his unexpected passing, yet death could not extinguish the bonds he forged with so many over the years. He touched countless lives in unique and meaningful ways.

I met Nigel during my time in Coventry. His dry, often cold humour became the foundation of a friendship strengthened by our shared social and academic commitments to reading and writing. His banter was often politically incorrect, yet never intended to belittle others—always softened by self-deprecating wit. He held an MBA from the Open University and a PhD from Coventry University, but he dismissed these qualifications as “merely A4-sized expensive papers to inflate my ego in a supermarket called universities.” He never took himself too seriously as a scholar, though he published numerous articles, book chapters, and four books.

As a researcher, Nigel examined the disempowering impacts of AI-driven digitalisation and technology. Between 2013 and 2023, he produced more than thirty-nine articles and policy papers for Oxford Analytica, arguing that technological innovation should empower people and strengthen small businesses. He was an early voice warning about the rise of techno-authoritarianism, envisioning a form of digital colonialism where platform companies acted as crowns, AI firms as nobility, and traditional businesses as vassals in a new feudal order. His social and political commitments extended to advocating for gender-sensitive AI to promote women’s entrepreneurial leadership.

In the classroom, Nigel’s teaching was infused with humour, warmth, and a democratic spirit. He rejected hierarchy, managerialism, and rigid marking systems, believing education should be egalitarian. Students cherished his mentorship, his respect for their ideas, and his passion for creating a rich learning experience. His research directly informed his teaching on topics ranging from corporate strategy to artificial intelligence. As a PhD supervisor, he engaged deeply with his students’ work, treating their projects with the same care as his own.

Before academia, Nigel spent a decade as a senior manager at a US multinational and another as a strategic consultant for major corporations and government departments. These experiences shaped his scepticism of capitalism. He was not a Marxist, but once compared capitalist society to “a strip club” that commodifies bodies and strips away human dignity. Beneath his serious exterior, he carried a rich vein of humour, which he described as part of “the tight-lipped English culture to hide the emptiness within”—before adding that he was “not wicked like the racist English ruling class conservatives.” He believed deeply in human freedom, equality, and dignity.

Nigel’s career took him to several universities, including Worcester, Coventry, UCA, the Open University, the University of Southern Denmark, Politecnico di Milano, Cranfield, and Aston. His last role was Senior Lecturer in Strategy and Innovation at the University of Portsmouth, where he was valued for his research and teaching. He was on track for promotion to Associate Professor, which he joked would simply allow him to “buy more nuts while drinking in pubs in Portsmouth.”

His sudden death cut short not just his academic plans but his joy for life. He called his friends “fun-loving decadent twats” and delighted in conversations that challenged conventional thinking. He was radically liberal, refusing to be boxed into ideological lanes. He despised dogma in any form, and his atheism was often expressed through playful irreverence. “God created wine,” he once said, “so that men and women could enjoy without any inhibitions.”

Nigel loved women, wine, books, and running. He would not have wanted his friends to mourn. He would have said, “Join me for some more sin,” meaning the joy of living. I do not know whether he consumed life or life consumed him, but I have lost a great friend and co-author who constantly reminded me to write in “simple and accessible words like a working-class boy.” I have promised to finish our unfinished research and to celebrate our friendship as he would have wished.

Nigel did not believe in reincarnation. “It is a way to control the present for an unseen future,” he told me. “Everyday enjoyment is real.” My friend, may you continue to enjoy life and death. All your friends celebrate you. I know you would hate this piece, but this is my way of dealing with your absence. Adieu, Nigel—and I will never forget that “fuck” was your favourite word for questioning every form of power.