By Mithaq Manahi Al-Issa
Iraq as a Case Study
From the moment political science students begin their university studies, they are taught a set of rules and principles that appear, on the surface, clear and straightforward and are considered fundamental to the discipline. They learn to examine political phenomena independently, away from emotional reactions, personal sentiment, and narrower affiliations. They are also taught to distinguish opinion from fact, to strive for objectivity in analyzing political phenomena affecting societies and states, and not to allow their personal convictions or affiliations to become preconceived judgments about individuals, events, or political phenomena.
Yet there is a question that rarely arises in the classroom, though it may occasionally do so, particularly in Iraq: Can a political scientist in our Arab societies be as objective as university training requires?
The question may appear simple, perhaps even provocative, but in fact it goes to the heart of practicing political science in the Arab world, particularly in Iraq. A political researcher or specialist in this field of knowledge, which is important to the development of states and societies, does not live in a laboratory or in an environment isolated from society. Rather, the researcher lives in an environment marked by multiple affiliations and differences, one shaped by its religion, sect, culture, history, and collective memory, in addition to the researcher’s own convictions, affiliations, and personal experience. This is where the problem may begin.
Political science students are taught that political phenomena should be studied as they are, and that solutions should be formulated according to what those phenomena require, however complex or difficult they may be, rather than according to how we would like them to be or how society wants them to be. For example, what happens when the phenomenon under study is directly connected to a religious doctrine, a sectarian identity, or an issue regarded by society as an established social norm? Can the researcher state what he or she considers scientifically valid without being accused of offending religion, a sect, a community, or the nation? And can the audience—society—read the analysis as scholarly analysis without first searching for the researcher’s identity and personal position, or resorting to declaring the researcher an unbeliever or accusing them of heresy, heterodoxy, and other ready-made charges prevalent in Arab societies generally and Iraq in particular?
In such a case, the problem may not lie in religion or sectarian affiliation themselves, since both form part of the social, cultural, and political structure of societies in general, and it is natural that they should have a presence in the study of political phenomena. The problem begins, however, when a religious or sectarian conviction shifts from being a personal framework of identity to becoming a criterion for judging the validity of scholarly analysis.
In Iraq, this problem appears more clearly and with greater complexity; it is a multifaceted one. Many of the subjects addressed by political science researchers are not neutral from society’s perspective, particularly because political science, across its various branches, examines the philosophy of the state and society more broadly, and that philosophy, by its very nature, touches upon society, its affiliations, religion, and beliefs. Discussing political sectarianism, for example, or the relationship between religion and the state; discussing the form of the state and political authority; criticizing methods of governance; critiquing political Islam and the way it administers the state; addressing the role, status, and limits of intervention of the religious authority, or marja‘iyya; examining the nature of regional influence in the formation of governments and its relationship with political parties and forces; discussing Iraq’s relationship with Iran and the United States and criticizing either of them; or even addressing political and financial corruption, as well as the concepts of the state, citizenship, and national identity—all of these can quickly move the researcher from the position of analyst to that of someone “accused” of holding a particular political or sectarian position. The researcher may even be killed, imprisoned, or persecuted, particularly amid the multiplicity of power centers in Iraq, the proliferation of weapons outside state authority, and weak law enforcement.
Here, the political science specialist may face a difficult paradox: if the researcher remains silent out of respect for society’s sensitivities, part of the scholarly function is lost; if the researcher speaks with complete freedom, as scholarly analysis requires, he or she may collide with society’s taboos. Is there, then, a way to manage this problem? And does the solution lie in abandoning objectivity in the study of political phenomena?
Certainly not. Objectivity is a fundamental value across all academic disciplines and fields of study, particularly political science. The alternative to objectivity may not lie in absolute neutrality alone, because a human being cannot completely detach from history, values, experience, and religion and become entirely abstract. What is possible, however, is to strike a balance. Researchers in political science, the social sciences, and related disciplines can develop an awareness of their own biases and recognize when they are speaking as individuals with convictions and when they are speaking as researchers.
Here, we must distinguish among three levels that are often conflated in our societies: what we believe, what we support politically, and what we can demonstrate scientifically. A researcher may hold a religious or sectarian position, a racial or nationalist position, or a clear political position, and this does not negate his or her scholarly status. The problem begins when that personal position predetermines the results of the research, or when scholarly analysis is rejected simply because it does not conform to the researcher’s convictions. At the same time, society itself must learn to distinguish between criticism of a phenomenon and criticism of the sacred, and between analyzing the behavior of a group, party, or institution and insulting a religion or sect. Not every analysis is criticism, and not every criticism is an insult. Moreover, a researcher’s disagreement with a political phenomenon does not necessarily mean disagreement with the doctrine to which those associated with that phenomenon belong.
Perhaps one of the greatest problems facing political science in Iraq is that we want researchers to be objective while, at the same time, drawing a series of lines they are not supposed to approach. We want them to explain, but we do not always want to hear their explanations. We want them to analyze, but we may reject the analysis if it touches upon one of our deeply rooted convictions. We want them to ask questions, but sometimes we determine in advance which questions they are allowed to ask. This is not the researcher’s problem alone; it is a problem of the environment in which political knowledge is produced.
A university should not merely be a place for reproducing what already exists; it should be a space for questioning, discussion, and rethinking. If political science students learn that politics operates through interests, power, balances, and institutions, it is natural for them to ask how these concepts function within their own society, even if the answer is uncomfortable or differs from the established beliefs and assumptions with which they were raised.
Defending objectivity in political science does not mean removing religion, sectarian affiliation, or culture from the political sphere. It means studying their influence on politics as it actually exists, not as we wish it to be. Nor does objectivity mean that the researcher should become a person without an identity; rather, it means that identity should not become a constraint that prevents the researcher from viewing a phenomenon from different perspectives.
Ultimately, perhaps the problem does not lie in the fact that we are products of our societies, but in the fact that we sometimes fail to distinguish between being members of those societies and being researchers who study them. The real challenge facing Iraqi political science professors, and Arab political science professors more broadly, may therefore be to preserve respect for the values and convictions of their societies while, at the same time, preserving their right to question, analyze, and criticize. A science that fears questions loses part of its meaning, and a university that does not permit disagreement is transformed from a space for producing knowledge into a space for reproducing established assumptions. The future of political science in the Arab world generally, and in Iraq particularly, therefore depends not only on developing curricula, theories, and research tools, but also on our ability to build a culture that accepts that scholarly analysis may differ from personal conviction, and that disagreement over the interpretation of a political phenomenon is a legitimate right within the production of knowledge, not a threat to identity, faith, or society.
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