Truth sacrificed as academic neutrality on Gaza plagues scholarly discourse

I recently encountered a situation where a fellow scholar hesitated to collaborate with me because I have no qualms about describing the ongoing events in Palestine as ‘genocide’. The objection, grounded in the belief that such terminology lacked academic neutrality and revealed a political bias, led me to reflect on the intriguing irony of ‘academic neutrality’ within scholarly circles. Despite the asserted ‘objectivity’ when discussing socio-historical phenomena, it became apparent that some academics’ conceptual imagination harboured inherent biases.

This paradox struck me as a modern-day parallel to the myth of Sisyphus. Much like the ancient figure condemned to perpetually roll a boulder uphill, only to watch it roll back down, some of us seem caught in the Sisyphean cycle of intellectual labour whether they realise it or not. The facade of neutrality, akin to Sisyphus’s relentless struggle, contrasts sharply with the underlying biases that persistently undermine scholarly endeavours. This disconnect between professed objectivity and inherent partiality paints an absurd picture, as scholars find themselves grappling with the weight of conflicting ideals, reminiscent of Sisyphus and his eternal plight.

‘Academic neutrality’ is inherently political, entangled in a discourse dominated by class interests and the deliberate ignorance or negation of these interests. Conceptually, this neutrality mirrors the elusive nature of ‘objectivity’. Our inclinations often align with our interests, despite rational arguments to the contrary. Preserving the integrity of academic expressions requires a nuanced understanding of context, forcing us to confront the impracticality of achieving true value-free neutrality.

In the chilling context of an ongoing genocide witnessed by the whole world through videos and images on social media since October 7, the Israeli brutality is marked by sustained violence, ceaseless bombing, and fires. The haunting imagery of piles of bodies strewn on the ground or trapped beneath rubble, as well as survivors intentionally deprived of necessities like food, water, and medicine, is profoundly raw and brutal. Amidst this heart-wrenching tragedy, the anguished cries of humans fleeing in terror, the faces of children and infants robbed of their parents, and the soul-piercing screams echo persistently.

I find it perplexing to consider how we might approach these events ‘rationally’, while adopting a ‘neutral’ stance to maintain ‘academic neutrality’? How being ‘neutral’ is ‘rational’ when we know that it did not even begin on October 7? Claiming a value-free perspective seems detached from stark realities. The assertion of being ‘neutral’ becomes, in essence, a value-laden statement, making neutrality itself a conscious choice that, knowingly or unknowingly, aligns with and potentially reinforces the existing status quo, including the perpetuation of the genocide in broad daylight.

The defence for academic neutrality, as thoughtfully discussed by Ourania Filippakou, reader at Brunel University London, raises concerns as it tends to further obscure implicit codes and values at play, hindering knowledge building and world narratives.

Beyond its camouflage, neutrality acts as a powerful force, legitimising and normalising specific social relations and behaviours, thereby shaping education in political and ethical realms. Filippakou reminds us that when educational research is confined to a purely technical pursuit, it obstructs thoughtful discourse and critical thinking.

This prompts fundamental questions: can and should universities and academics remain passive or neutral or balanced in the face of genocide? Are claims of neutrality mere ideological façades, concealing the promotion of oppressive values by the powerful?

To answer this, one must consider that the act of defending higher education as a democratic public sphere requires acknowledging its integral political nature, involving an ongoing struggle over the selection of knowledge, values, and social relations in the classroom.

Renowned American-Canadian scholar Henry A. Giroux’s critique exposes the fallacy of a neutral, objective education, emphasising its entanglement with power dynamics, values, and politics. Ethical pedagogy demands openness to others and engagement in a ‘politics of possibility’, resisting attempts to depoliticise through appeals to scientific objectivity or ideological dogmatism.

At this point, if we agree with Malaysian education specialist Zul Fikri Zamir that a university is more than a mere factory, a pivotal transformation is imperative. Our universities must transcend their conventional role of merely preparing students for economic pursuits and become a nexus fostering critical thinking, social justice, freedom, agency, and action.

Indian writer and activist Arundhati Roy’s call for intellectuals to pose uncomfortable questions about values, traditions, and civic responsibilities gains profound relevance in the context of ongoing genocide.

Echoing American sociologist C Wright Mills, social scientists must not evade challenging issues, recognising the limitations in solely ‘saving the word’ but deeming it worthwhile to strive for consciousness-raising and advocate for an end to genocidal acts.

This shift is crucial, impacting both higher education and broader society, suggesting not only a redefinition of the role of higher education, but also advocating for a more critical and empowering role for students, as well as academics. Higher education researchers, influenced by their embedded discourse and ideologies, must introspectively acknowledge the scope of their roles and intentions, ranging from knowledge inquiry to a critical understanding of relevant issues. The notion of neutrality takes on enhanced importance, especially in times of genocide, as it lays bare the deep-seated inequalities and discrimination.

Academics should refuse complicity in neutralising the horrors of genocide by staying neutral in our language and actions. As philosopher J.L. Austin suggested in ‘A Plea for Excuses’, our choice of words and definitions isn’t merely about linguistic constructs; it's about sharpening our understanding of the realities they represent.

Before October 7 2023, it may be challenging to access ‘alternative realities’ on the ground beyond what was reported by mainstream media. But now, haven't we seen it all? Haven’t the events since 1948 or at least the current events fulfilled the criteria of genocide? What else must happen to satisfy the ‘common definition’ of the term?

To remain neutral amid events tantamount to genocide, encompassing the loss of lives and destruction, is to trivialize the gravity of the situation. Pick your side – and when you do, in contrast to what British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak said during his address at a Conservative Friends of Israel event– chanting the iconic slogan ‘from the river to the sea’ does not make us ‘useful idiots’, we are not terrorists, nor we are antisemitic. We are individuals striving for a principled stance, advocating for justice, human rights, and a genuine resolution to the longstanding occupation and violence.