Academic Solidarity e.V.

When we accept an unjust intervention that works to our advantage, we undermine the moral grounds upon which we could object to a similar intervention directed against us in the future.

U.S. President Donald Trump was displeased with the red card shown to Folarin Balogun during the World Cup. He telephoned FIFA President Gianni Infantino to request a review of the decision. Shortly thereafter, while not rescinding the red card entirely, FIFA suspended Balogun’s automatic one-match ban for a probationary period of one year. This cleared the way for the player to take the field against Belgium. Trump later openly confirmed his intervention and praised FIFA’s decision (https://www.reuters.com/sports/soccer/uefa-says-fifa-crossed-red-line-with-balogun-red-card-u-turn-world-cup-2026-07-06/).

Whether Balogun’s action actually warranted a red card is, of course, open to debate. Referees can make mistakes. However, the real issue here is not whether the red card was correct or incorrect. The fundamental issue is that one of the world’s most powerful politicians could reach out directly to the FIFA President and intervene in favor of a player from his own country.

Could the head of state of another country have phoned the FIFA President in a similar situation? Would such a call have yielded the same result? While the term “pulling strings” might be perceived in everyday language as a harsh and definitive accusation, UEFA representatives and various circles within the football community noted that the decision crossed a serious line regarding the equitable application of the rules (https://www.theguardian.com/football/2026/jul/06/belgium-appeal-fifa-lifting-folarin-balogun-red-card-ban-last-16-us-world-cup).

The World Cup is one of the rare global events where humanity can unite around a shared excitement. Societies speaking different languages and possessing diverse religions, cultures, and political systems all agree to the rules of the same game. Even countries at war with one another or grappling with serious political issues face off on the same field, under the same referee, and subject to the same rules.

In this respect, while football may not be peace itself, it can serve as a microcosm of peaceful competition. Peace does not imply the total elimination of differences and conflicts; rather, it entails managing conflicts through shared rules, mutual recognition, and independent institutions, rather than through violence or arbitrary power. In football, too, teams strive to defeat one another, and the contest can be fierce. Yet, the parties involved accept in advance the shared rules that lend legitimacy to the match. This requires at least three conditions: rules must be applied equally to all; refereeing and disciplinary mechanisms must be free from political pressure; and the losing side must be able to believe that the process was fundamentally fair.

At first glance, the connection between this discussion and academia might seem remote. Yet, football and academia rest on similar foundations regarding institutional legitimacy. Academia, too, has its referees: research projects are evaluated, articles are accepted or rejected, academic appointments are made, scientific funds are distributed, and ethics committees issue rulings. The legitimacy of these decisions stems not from the outcomes pleasing everyone, but from the process being independent, transparent, and aligned with pre-established principles.

If an article is published solely due to the author’s connections, scientific evaluation loses its meaning. If a researcher is ousted from a university for displeasing the political establishment, we can no longer speak of academic freedom. If a rector is appointed based on political loyalty rather than scientific merit, that university ceases to be free.

For this reason, Trump’s call to the FIFA President carries significance that extends far beyond a trivial sports anecdote. This is a symbolic incident illustrating how easily political authority can reach into institutions that ought to be independent. Even more dangerous is the fact that such interventions are increasingly viewed by society as normal. People might say, “The president was defending his own team,” “Anyone else would have done the same,” or “After all, a wrong decision was corrected.”

When scientific institutions are steered by political phone calls, it is not only academics who suffer. Flawed health policies, the concealment of environmental issues, the distortion of historical facts, and the obstruction of research into social problems affect society as a whole. Similarly, the perception that international sports bodies are subject to political influence undermines trust not only among footballers but also between nations and societies.

We cannot leave world peace to the goodwill of leaders. Peace requires reliable institutions that powerful figures cannot simply interfere with at will. Likewise, academic freedom must rest not on administrators’ tolerance but on the rule of law, institutional autonomy, and international solidarity.

A single phone call does not, in itself, destroy world peace. However, the normalization of the idea that rules can be altered by a phone call erodes the trust that sustains our shared world—whether in football, academia, or politics. The most valuable message the World Cup can convey to humanity is not that the most powerful nation wins, but that all countries—strong and weak alike—are subject to the same rules.

The phrase “never again” holds meaning only when it applies not just to one people, but to all peoples.

Although it may no longer dominate the international news agenda as it once did, the destruction, starvation, forced displacement, and mass death occurring in Palestine persist. This week, we wish to highlight the Israeli side of the issue—or more precisely, the position of the Israeli state regarding international law, human rights norms, and universal moral principles.

As Prof. Moshe Maoz states in his article titled “A Democracy Turned Pariah State: Israel’s Moral Unraveling,” Israel’s international standing has changed dramatically in recent years. Once viewed—despite all criticisms—as a “flawed democracy living under a security threat,” Israel is today increasingly perceived as a “pariah state.” This transformation is not the result of a single event; rather, it stems from an accumulation of policies, civilian casualties, a humanitarian catastrophe, and the perception of systematic violations of international legal norms in Gaza and the West Bank (https://ihcr.institute/writing/a-democracy-turned-pariah-state-israels-moral-unraveling/).

This isolation is not merely a political reaction from the outside; strong moral objections are also being raised from within Israel itself. Israeli human rights organizations such as B’Tselem (https://www.btselem.org/press_releases/20250728_our_genocide) and Physicians for Human Rights-Israel (https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2025/07/israel-opt-israeli-organizations-conclude-israel-committing-genocide-against-palestinians-in-gaza-in-another-milestone-for-accountability-efforts/) have published reports characterizing the events in Gaza as genocide; they have assessed the targeting of civil society, the healthcare system, living conditions, and essential humanitarian infrastructure specifically within the framework of grave crimes under international law. The International Criminal Court’s issuance of arrest warrants for Benjamin Netanyahu and Yoav Gallant—on allegations of war crimes and crimes against humanity—further demonstrates that this process has shifted from a matter of mere moral concern to a realm of legal accountability (https://www.icc-cpi.int/news/situation-state-palestine-icc-pre-trial-chamber-i-rejects-state-israels-challenges).

Of course, the attacks by Hamas against civilians on October 7, 2023, were unacceptable and cannot be justified in any way. However, no attack can legitimize the collective punishment of a people, the destruction of cities, the deaths of children due to starvation and bombardment, the dismantling of the healthcare system, or the suspension of international humanitarian law. The fact that the genocide case brought by South Africa against Israel at the International Court of Justice is ongoing—and that the Court continues to keep the matter on its agenda—demonstrates that the issue has been recorded in the global public consciousness not merely as a fleeting political debate, but as a historic matter of law and humanity (https://www.icj-cij.org/case/192).

This situation is particularly jarring given the historical weight of the principle of “Never Again.” The Jewish people have borne the trauma and memory of the Nazi genocide across generations. This memory serves as a universal moral warning—not only for Jews but for all of humanity: no people, no state, and no ideology may dehumanize another people in the name of security or revenge. The policies currently pursued by the Israeli government appear to represent a moral collapse because they contradict this universal principle.

Nevertheless, many Jewish individuals, academics, human rights defenders, and communities across the globe are opposing these policies, declaring “not in our name” (https://www.jewishvoiceforpeace.org/resource/not-in-my-name-divest/). These voices are invaluable, for criticizing the policies of the Israeli government does not constitute antisemitism. On the contrary, upholding the principle of “Never Again”—one of the most significant moral legacies of Jewish history—on behalf of Palestinians as well is an act of defending universal human values. For this reason, the growing objections from certain Jewish communities in the diaspora regarding Israel’s policies in Gaza also warrant close attention (https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2026/6/13/not-in-my-name-the-jewish-diaspora-fighting-the-consensus-on-israel). However, these objections are not yet sufficient to alter the course of Israeli policy. As the Israeli state persists on a path that largely disregards international reactions, human rights reports, legal proceedings, and calls for a ceasefire, it is not only inflicting irreparable suffering upon the Palestinian people but also creating a heavy historical legacy for its own society and future generations. Every crime committed today, every conscience silenced, and every child’s death ignored will remain an indelible record in the memory of the future.

The solution lies in Israeli society and the international actors supporting it, emerging from this moral blindness as soon as possible. Security can only acquire meaning through the rule of law; peace, through justice; and memory, through the universal conscience. Israel must abandon this policy that drags it into deeper isolation and exclusion, recognize the fundamental rights of Palestinians, comply with international law, and accept accountability.

Thousands of people from Turkey—having exhausted all domestic legal remedies and been deprived of their jobs, freedom, and homeland—are continuing their quest for justice before the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). The “Strasbourg Justice Gatherings” serve as a reflection in Europe not only of individual grievances but also of the lawlessness that has been deepening in Turkey for years.

This week, we wish to highlight the Strasbourg Justice Gatherings, which have been held in Strasbourg—before the Council of Europe and the ECHR—since 2022. These gatherings constitute a powerful appeal to the European public against the lawlessness that has persisted in Turkey for years, the failure to implement ECHR rulings, and the culture of impunity (https://tr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strasbourg_Adalet_Buluşmaları). Human rights organizations reported that approximately 4,500 people participated in the 2025 gathering; this year, it was announced that participation reached 5,000 (https://www.hrsolidarity.org/tag/strasbourg/). The central call of the fifth gathering in 2026 was for Turkey to implement ECHR rulings and for Council of Europe mechanisms to be operated more effectively (https://natlawreview.com/press-releases/thousands-rally-strasbourg-demand-action-over-turkeys-failure-enforce-ecthr).

The post-2016 “Decree-Law” (KHK) regime in Turkey led not only to individual job losses but also to the transformation of the entire social structure through extra-legal means. A total of 127,292 applications were submitted to the State of Emergency Procedures Review Commission; of these, 17,960 were accepted, and 109,332 were rejected. In other words, approximately 85.9% of the applications were rejected. These figures reflect only the officially recorded aspect of a process in which tens of thousands of people were deprived of their jobs, professions, social status, passport rights, and, in many cases, their basic means of livelihood (https://tr.euronews.com/2023/01/20/ohal-inceleme-komisyonu-tum-basvurulari-karara-bagladi-istatistiklerle-kabul-ve-ret-orani).

Dismissals via Decree-Laws (KHKs) caused severe devastation, particularly within academic life. One study on this subject found that between 2016 and 2018, 3,452 academics—representing approximately 5.7% of the total academic staff—were dismissed from public universities via Decree-Laws, and that this process was associated with a significant decline in universities’ scientific productivity (https://ijmshr.com/uploads/pdf/archivepdf/2024/IJMSHR_402.pdf).

Similarly, studies on healthcare professionals emigrating from Turkey indicate that this migration cannot be explained solely by economic reasons. A study titled “Navigating Exodus” analyzed the responses of 506 healthcare workers who had left Turkey; the vast majority of participants cited the political atmosphere, a sense of insecurity, and workplace violence as decisive factors in their decision to emigrate. Notably, the study reported that many individuals viewed emigration as the “only way out” because, despite being in a better economic position in Turkey, they did not feel free or secure (https://eu-opensci.org/index.php/ejsocial/article/view/18519). In the study titled “Medical Professionals’ Migration from Turkey,” data from 513 medical professionals were analyzed. Physicians constituted 79.3% of the participants; approximately one-fifth held an academic title, while another fifth had completed post-specialization advanced training. Despite this, following migration, 63.4% were compelled to work in lower-status jobs, and 45.2% remained unemployed or attended training courses. These findings indicate that the cohort leaving Turkey represents a group that is highly educated, experienced, and embodies the country’s institutional capacity, rather than constituting a typical labor migration flow (https://ijmshr.com/uploads/pdf/archivepdf/2024/IJMSHR_398.pdf).

Today, prisons in Türkiye have become one of the epicenters of the human rights crisis. According to data from the Ministry of Justice’s General Directorate of Prisons and Detention Houses dated June 1, 2026, there are 421,583 detainees and convicts in the country’s prisons; of these, 20,586 are women and 4,673 are children aged 12–18 (https://cte.adalet.gov.tr/Resimler/Dokuman/202606031504182725-%20Ceza%20%C4%B0nfaz%20Kurumunda%20Bulunan%20Tutuklu%20ve%20H%C3%BCk%C3%BCml%C3%BClerin%20Ya%C5%9F%20Gruplar%C4%B1na%20G%C3%B6re%20Da%C4%9F%C4%B1l%C4%B1mlar%C4%B1.pdf). According to CİSST’s May 2026 assessment, there are 20,235 female prisoners in the country’s prisons, and the number of children aged 0–6 staying with their mothers is reported as 891 (https://cisst.org.tr/mayis-2026-hapishane-istatistikleri-aciklandi/). Meanwhile, the Human Rights Association’s 2025 Report on Sick Prisoners indicates that at least 1,412 sick prisoners have been identified, with 335 of them classified as critically ill (https://www.ihd.org.tr/2025-yili-hasta-mahpuslar-raporu/).

Alongside dismissals via decree-laws (KHKs), the extraordinarily broad interpretation of “terrorism” charges in Turkey has also evolved into a massive human rights issue. According to a statement by Mustafa Yeneroğlu based on Ministry of Justice statistics, 1,768,530 investigations regarding “armed terrorist organizations” were initiated under Article 314 of the Turkish Penal Code (TCK) between 2016 and 2021 alone. In subsequent statements, Yeneroğlu noted that the total number of investigations launched in connection with charges against armed terrorist organizations following July 15 had reached approximately 2 million. These figures demonstrate that the concept of “terrorism” in Turkey has moved beyond the investigation of violent acts to become a broad instrument of criminalization encompassing journalists, academics, public servants, politicians, students, businesspeople, and civil society representatives (https://hukuk.devapartisi.org.tr/haber/adalet-bakanl%C4%B1%C4%9F%C4%B1n%C4%B1n-2021-adalet-i%CC%87statistiklerine-yans%C4%B1yan-silahl%C4%B1-ter%C3%B6r-%C3%B6rg%C3%BCt%C3%BC-%C3%BCyeli%C4%9Fi-yarg%C4%B1lamalar%C4%B1-verileri-hk-bas%C4%B1n-a%C3%A7%C4%B1klamas%C4%B1).

In addition to Osman Kavala, Selahattin Demirtaş, Figen Yüksekdağ, Can Atalay, Tayfun Kahraman, Çiğdem Mater, and Mine Özerden, Ekrem İmamoğlu is also today one of the most visible examples of the politicization of the judiciary in Turkey. Human Rights Watch highlights that İmamoğlu was detained and subsequently arrested on March 19, 2025; that he stood trial alongside hundreds of municipal officials and employees in a case commencing in 2026; and that there are concerns regarding the politically motivated nature of the proceedings (https://www.hrw.org/world-report/2026/country-chapters/turkiye). The upholding of the aggravated life sentence for Osman Kavala and the 18-year prison sentences for Can Atalay, Tayfun Kahraman, Çiğdem Mater, and Mine Özerden in the Gezi trial; the failure to release Can Atalay despite his election as a Member of Parliament and Constitutional Court rulings; and the continued imprisonment of Demirtaş and Yüksekdağ despite European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) judgments demonstrate that the right to elected representation and binding high court rulings can be effectively suspended in Turkey.

Migration from Turkey is also a direct consequence of this human rights crisis. According to TurkStat, 403,216 people emigrated from Turkey in 2025; of these, 155,119 were citizens of the Republic of Turkey (https://veriportali.tuik.gov.tr/tr/press/58140). OECD data indicates that migration by Turkish citizens to OECD countries rose by 37% in 2023, reaching 158,000, with approximately 57% of this migration directed toward Germany (https://www.oecd.org/en/publications/international-migration-outlook-2025_ae26c893-en/full-report/turkiye_6a33f8e3.html). The European Union Agency for Asylum reports that while asylum applications by Turkish citizens exceeded 100,000 in 2023 and dropped to 33,000 in 2025, Turkish citizens nevertheless remain the fifth-largest group of applicants in the EU+ region (https://www.euaa.europa.eu/latest-asylum-trends-annual-analysis/applications). Human rights violations in Turkey are not confined to prisons, courtrooms, or lists of individuals dismissed by decree-laws. These violations tear families apart, condemn children to prison conditions, deprive the critically ill of their right to medical treatment, silence academia, force professionals into exile, and drive the country’s skilled workforce abroad. The call for justice in Strasbourg is a test not only for Turkey but also for the credibility of the European human rights system. As justice is delayed, it is not only the victims who suffer, but the legal order itself.

What forced many to emigrate was not a better salary, but unlawful dismissals, passport cancellations, the threat of arrest, professional ruin, social exclusion, and deep fear regarding their children’s future.

Some discussions on migration emphasize that human mobility is more closely linked to economic development and long-term societal transformations than to sudden crises. While this perspective is certainly valuable for understanding certain aspects of global migration flows—as people move across countries for work, education, family reunification, or better living conditions—it must not obscure one of the most pressing realities of our time: in today’s world, millions of people are not merely migrating; they are being forcibly displaced (https://www.welt.de/wissenschaft/article6a2fb2dd0611b9299a15580d/migration-eher-von-wirtschaftlicher-entwicklung-angetrieben-als-von-ploetzlichen-isolierten-krisen.html).

The global number of international migrants rose from approximately 160 million in 1990 to 304 million in 2024—nearly doubling. As a proportion of the world population, the migrant share increased from roughly 2.9–3.0% in 1990 to 3.7% in 2024 (https://www.migrationdataportal.org/themes/international-migrant-stocks-overview). Although the vast majority of migrants (about 60%) move for employment purposes, the proportion of people involved in cross-border forced migration or holding refugee status is estimated at around 17% (with the remaining ~23% attributed to mixed reasons such as family reunification and education) (https://www.unhcr.org/global-trends-report-2024).

Forced migration is not an economic choice; it is, in most cases, a survival strategy. The academics, teachers, physicians, legal professionals, and civil servants forced to leave Erdoğan’s Turkey did not set out in search of higher incomes. Many held respected professional positions, enjoyed relative economic security, and were socially well-established in their home country. What drove them to emigrate was not the prospect of a better salary, but rather unlawful dismissals, passport revocations, the threat of arrest, professional ruin, social ostracism, and deep anxiety about their children’s futures (https://turkeypurge.org/ https://www.statista.com/chart/5333/the-targets-of-erdogans-purge/).  

The same applies to the women, academics, journalists, and former civil servants fleeing Taliban-controlled Afghanistan. Similarly, the millions fleeing Syria, Sudan, Ukraine, Myanmar, or other conflict zones are rarely in pursuit of economic opportunity; they are escaping bombs, oppression, arbitrary violence, state collapse, or systematic human rights violations. Consequently, attempting to explain forced migration solely through the lens of economic development theories ignores the political and moral realities experienced by the victims.

Today, the number of forcibly displaced people worldwide exceeds 100 million. This figure is not merely a statistic; it represents shattered families, interrupted educations, silenced academic voices, derailed careers, and lives condemned to uncertainty. A significant portion of these displaced individuals are still searching for safety within their own countries; Meanwhile, millions of people are striving to rebuild their lives in other countries as refugees, asylum seekers, or under temporary protection status (https://www.unhcr.org/hk/en/about-unhcr/overview/figures-glance).

The impact of forced migration on the academic world is even more profound. Uprooting an academic from their country is not merely an individual tragedy; it is also a blow to society’s collective memory, its capacity for critical thought, and its scientific output. When universities are silenced, it is not only academics who lose out, but also students, institutions, and future generations. The destruction of academic freedom amounts to severing a country’s intellectual lifelines.

For this reason, the issue of migration is not simply a matter of humanitarian aid or integration for Academic Solidarity. It is also a fundamental arena of solidarity concerning academic freedom, human dignity, and the future of democratic societies. The stories of forcibly displaced academics reveal that migration is not a choice, but the last resort for preserving one’s dignity, profession, and freedom.

Economic factors certainly play a significant role in global migration movements. However, equating forced migration with economic migration would be both an analytical and a moral error. Economic migration is often driven by the desire for better opportunities. Forced migration, on the other hand, is frequently a matter of exercising one’s last remaining option: to flee, to survive, and to start over.

What we need today is not a language that views migrants and refugees merely as statistics, burdens, or security threats, but a language of solidarity that makes their knowledge, experiences, professional backgrounds, and human stories visible. Academic solidarity must be strengthened by amplifying the voices of the silenced, making visible the labor of the displaced, and opening up new intellectual spaces for scientists who have lost their freedom.

We can discuss the economic dynamics of migration. Yet, at the heart of forced migration lies not economics, but freedom. And standing in solidarity with those deprived of their freedom is not merely a humanitarian duty; it is an act of upholding the very reason for the academic world’s existence.

GLP-1 agonists represent a new era in medicine. However, their optimal use requires an approach that balances excitement with caution, does not overlook lifestyle changes, and considers both patient safety and social equity.

In recent years, GLP-1 receptor agonists have emerged as one of the fastest-growing classes of drugs. Originally developed to treat type 2 diabetes, these drugs now sit at the heart of obesity treatment as well. Following the introduction of exenatide in 2005, molecules such as liraglutide, dulaglutide, and semaglutide arrived; subsequently, drugs like tirzepatide—which combine GLP-1 activity with GIP activity—further transformed the landscape. While weight-loss strategies once relied primarily on diet, exercise, behavioral changes, and drugs of limited efficacy, we now discuss pharmacological options capable of achieving weight loss of 15–20% (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK572151/).

The primary mechanism of these drugs is to mimic the effects of the GLP-1 hormone secreted by the intestine. GLP-1 stimulates insulin secretion, suppresses glucagon, slows gastric emptying, and enhances the sensation of satiety in the brain. Consequently, they are effective in both blood sugar control and appetite reduction. In type 2 diabetes, GLP-1 agonists significantly lower HbA1c levels and promote weight loss. Furthermore, cardiovascular studies involving semaglutide have demonstrated a reduction in cardiovascular events among high-risk patients with diabetes (https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMoa1607141).

Data regarding obesity is even more striking. In the STEP-1 trial, adults with obesity or overweight who used 2.4 mg of semaglutide weekly experienced an average weight loss of 14.9% after 68 weeks, whereas the figure remained at 2.4% in the placebo group (https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMoa2032183). Meanwhile, the SURMOUNT-1 trial involving tirzepatide reported weight loss ranging from approximately 16% to 22.5%, depending on the dosage (https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/35658024/). Weight loss also yields positive effects on blood pressure, fatty liver, sleep apnea, joint load, and cardiometabolic risk. The SELECT trial further expanded this scope by demonstrating that semaglutide reduces major cardiovascular events in individuals without diabetes who have obesity or overweight and established cardiovascular disease (https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMoa1607141).

There are also early indications that the effects of these drugs may extend beyond metabolism. Research is ongoing in areas such as addiction, fatty liver, polycystic ovary syndrome, Alzheimer’s disease, and depression. A recently published animal study suggested that liraglutide alleviates depressive behaviors by altering the gut microbiota—specifically through an increase in Lactobacillus delbrueckii—and by acting on the endocannabinoid system (https://www.eurekalert.org/news-releases/1130817). While this finding is exciting, it does not yet translate to a treatment for depression in humans. Nevertheless, it is noteworthy for demonstrating the potential importance of the gut-brain axis.

Of course, it is incorrect to present these drugs as “miracles.” Like most medications, they have side effects. The most common side effects include nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation, and abdominal pain. Rarer but significant risks include pancreatitis, gallbladder disease, kidney problems due to fluid loss, increased heart rate, and—in some patients—worsening of diabetic retinopathy (https://www.accessdata.fda.gov/drugsatfda_docs/label/2026/215256s033lbl.pdf). The risk of hypoglycemia may increase when used in combination with insulin or sulfonylureas. Furthermore, they should not be used by individuals with a history of medullary thyroid cancer or MEN2. There has been a long-standing debate regarding psychiatric side effects; however, recent FDA evaluations found no evidence that GLP-1 agonists cause suicidal thoughts (https://www.fda.gov/drugs/drug-safety-communications/update-fdas-ongoing-evaluation-reports-suicidal-thoughts-or-actions-patients-taking-certain-type).

Another issue is access and equity. Demand for these drugs has surged to such an extent that many countries experience periodic shortages, making it difficult for diabetic patients to obtain the medication. This situation brings the classic question of medicine back to the fore: When a treatment is effective, who should have access to it, to what extent, and on what grounds? (https://www.ema.europa.eu/en/news/eu-actions-tackle-shortages-glp-1-receptor-agonists)

GLP-1 agonists represent a new era in medicine. It is clear that they offer powerful tools for treating diabetes and obesity. However, the optimal approach will balance excitement with caution, avoid overlooking lifestyle changes, and consider patient safety and social equity in tandem.

Artificial intelligence can write, but it cannot be held accountable. A scientific text is a declaration of responsibility grounded in verifiable reality; when this declaration collapses, what remains is not science, but merely an imitation of it.

It is now nearly impossible to avoid using artificial intelligence in scientific work. Indeed, in many cases, it should be used. AI serves as a powerful aid to researchers in areas such as language editing, translation support, summarization, text planning, statistical coding, and the simplification of complex concepts.

First, we must seek the answer to this question: Does artificial intelligence support the researcher’s effort, or does it replace them by generating the text itself? There is a world of difference between a researcher using AI to better articulate their own ideas and having AI write the entire text, construct the arguments, and compile the bibliography, only to present it as one’s own academic output.

International publication ethics bodies have drawn this distinction. According to COPE, AI tools cannot be listed as authors because authorship entails more than just generating text; it involves taking responsibility for the accuracy and integrity of the work (https://publicationethics.org/guidance/cope-position/authorship-and-ai-tools). Similarly, the ICMJE emphasizes that the use of AI must be disclosed and that human authors bear full responsibility for any text, images, or sources generated by AI (https://www.icmje.org/recommendations/browse/artificial-intelligence/ai-use-by-authors.html).

One of the most dangerous issues arising when this boundary is crossed is the phenomenon of AI “hallucinations.” Unsupervised models, in particular, are capable of generating books, articles, authors, journals, page numbers, and DOI details that appear authentic but do not actually exist.

A striking example of this from Turkey is a doctoral thesis titled “Political and Military Relations Between Golden Horde Khan Tokhtamysh and Chagatai Ruler Emir Timur,” prepared by Damira Makhanova at the Ankara University Institute of Social Sciences (https://tez.yok.gov.tr/UlusalTezMerkezi/TezGoster?key=KOgdn9H3uVnWeb15j2W4hxNPsKdqDnT_o7_nxp0jCES_jI7eqyjpDfhRGeNfUX8J). The thesis’s title and approval pages indicate that the work was conducted at Ankara University under the supervision of Prof. Dr. İlhan Erdem, that the jury included five professors, and that the defense date was set for January 27, 2026. On the ethics declaration page, the author states that all information was gathered in accordance with academic rules and ethical principles and that all sources were fully cited.

Certain publications attributed to İlker Evrim Binbaş are cited as sources in the thesis. In statements made on social media, Binbaş notes that some of these works are not his and describes the situation as serious (https://x.com/evrimbinbas/status/2059896658104549533?s=46&t=rFptNgTuGJR_LxxD3-c8gA). Of course, the presence of fake or unverifiable sources does not, in itself, conclusively prove that the text was written by artificial intelligence. However, this type of source usage strongly aligns with the problem of “hallucinated references” frequently encountered in the age of artificial intelligence.

More importantly, this case reveals a problem that runs deeper than just artificial intelligence. The academic oversight mechanism at Ankara University is failing to function. If a doctoral thesis systematically cites sources that do not exist or cannot be verified, this cannot be viewed merely as the student’s individual error. The supervision process, the jury evaluation, the institute’s checks, and the university’s quality assurance mechanisms must also be called into question.

This example holds symbolic significance in demonstrating just how fragile academic quality assurance has become in certain areas in Turkey. The issue is not simply the writing of a poor thesis, but the fact that such a thesis could pass through the academic review process. Even more alarming is that when such cases are dismissed as isolated errors, academic institutions end up perpetuating the mere production of documents rather than the pursuit of science.

It should be noted that this problem is not unique to Turkey. Cases of AI-generated fake citations are becoming increasingly visible in international academic publishing as well. Numerous fabricated sources have been identified even in articles published on academic ethics. One study indicates that one in every 277 articles indexed in PubMed contains fabricated sources (https://retractionwatch.com/category/by-reason-for-retraction/reference-problems/).

The fundamental issue is how to safeguard scientific integrity in the age of artificial intelligence. Artificial intelligence is a powerful tool when it supports scientific endeavor. However, when it transforms into a machine that generates text, arguments, and bibliographies without human oversight, it accelerates academic decay. A scientific text is a declaration of responsibility founded upon verifiable reality. When this declaration collapses, nothing remains but an imitation of science.

Academic solidarity is not limited merely to providing scholarships, job postings, letters of recommendation, or temporary positions. It is also crucial to stand by someone grappling with uncertainty—to say, “You do not have to make this decision alone.”

Making decisions during times of crisis is difficult. This is because a crisis does not merely multiply one’s options; it also constricts time, diminishes available information, and subjects individuals to intense stress. Decisions made in situations involving war, oppression, job loss, exile, migration, academic exclusion, or legal uncertainty are rarely—if ever—made under ideal conditions. Rather than striving for the “most correct” decision, individuals often aim to make the decision that, at that moment, is the “least wrong.”

A recent study has sparked an intriguing discussion about complex decision-making. Researchers analyzing professional chess matches reported that moves executed within shorter timeframes were, on average, of higher quality. In the study, the quality of these moves was benchmarked against the evaluations of chess engines. The researchers emphasize that the duration of the decision-making process reflects not only time pressure but also the extent to which a player perceives their position as difficult. In other words, a quick decision does not invariably signify superficiality; sometimes, a rapid decision may instead be an indication of intuition honed through experience (https://neurosciencenews.com/decision-speed-intuition-30715/).

Naturally, it would be inappropriate to directly extrapolate this finding to every sphere of life. Chess is a domain characterized by well-defined rules, measurable outcomes, and a high level of expertise. Nevertheless, in certain situations, prolonged deliberation may serve less as a sign of deeper insight and more as a symptom of mental paralysis—a state of being “stuck.” Sometimes, a person continues to think simply because they are unable to reach a decision—not because they anticipate that further reflection will yield a superior outcome.

Those who have endured academic exile know this all too well. Decisions made under pressure are often not as cool-headed and clean-cut as moves on a chessboard. To stay at the university, or to resign? To leave the country, or to wait? To take one’s family immediately, or to first prepare a secure foundation? To start a career from scratch in a new country, or to try to preserve one’s academic identity? For most of these questions, there is insufficient information. There is the pressure of time. The emotional burden is heavy. And every option comes with a cost…

In such times, intuition is a resource that should not be underestimated. Intuition is often not thoughtlessness, but rather the rapid articulation of accumulated experience. Having experienced similar pressures before, observing how institutions react, recognizing signs of unreliability, sensing the discrepancy between people’s words and their actions—all these elements silently contribute to the decision-making process. In a moment of crisis, one sometimes senses that a certain path is dangerous while another is safer, even if one cannot fully articulate the reasons why.

However, one must be cautious here. Not every quick decision is a good one. Nor is every intuition an act of wisdom. Fear, too, can speak in the guise of intuition. Trauma, too, can present itself as an “inner voice.” Panic can tell a person to freeze when they ought to flee, or to rush when they ought to wait. Therefore, the fundamental issue in making decisions under crisis is not the question: “Should one think fast, or slow?” The real challenge lies in being able to discern under which circumstances one can trust one’s own intuition, and under which circumstances one requires the support of others.

In moments of crisis, solidarity becomes vital. A person left isolated during a crisis is forced to make decisions confined within the narrowing confines of their own mind. However, a trusted colleague, a human rights network, an academic solidarity platform, a mentor, or someone who has walked the same path before can fundamentally alter the nature of a decision. Solidarity is not about making decisions on another person’s behalf; rather, it is about creating a space where that person can make a sounder decision for themselves.

Consequently, academic solidarity is not limited merely to providing scholarships, job postings, letters of recommendation, or temporary positions. While these are invaluable, solidarity also has a quieter dimension: accompanying someone as they grapple with uncertainty. It involves helping them distinguish between panic and intuition, hope and realism, risk and opportunity. Sometimes, the most critical support one can offer a person during a pivotal moment in their life is not to say, “Do this,” but rather, “You do not have to make this decision alone.”

During times of crisis, ideal decisions are rare. Most decisions are made amidst incomplete information, exhaustion, fear, and intense time pressure. For this reason, while it is easy to look back in hindsight and pass judgment on others, it is rarely fair. Questions such as, “Why didn’t they leave sooner?” “Why did they wait?” “Why did they sign that document?” or “Why did they remain silent?” often fail to acknowledge the reality of the person caught within the crisis. In that moment, what lies before the individual is not merely a set of options, but also family responsibilities, financial anxieties, legal risks, professional prospects, and emotional turmoil.

Perhaps the most important lesson we must learn regarding decision-making under duress is this: The human mind, left to its own devices, is not limitless. Intuition is valuable, yet it requires a secure context in which to operate. Reason is essential, but it, too, requires both time and information. Solidarity fills this void.

We must protect not only the jobs, titles, or institutions of academics under pressure, but also their capacity for decision-making. For a crisis shakes not only a person’s external world but also their inner compass. Solidarity will help that compass find its bearings once again.

When war, oppression, and political repression are at issue, human life cannot be sacrificed to calculations of long-term self-interest.

In developed countries, fertility rates are declining, life expectancy is increasing, and the ratio of the working-age population to retirees is falling. According to the OECD, the old-age dependency ratio rose from 19% in 1980 to 31% in 2023, and is projected to reach 52% by 2060. Consequently, migration is frequently presented as a “solution” for aging societies. However, this issue is not as simple as it might seem: Migration presents both opportunities and serious challenges for both destination and source countries (https://www.oecd.org/en/publications/2025/07/oecd-employment-outlook-2025_5345f034/full-report/component-6.html).

The strongest argument in favor of migration is the labor shortage. Many developed countries rely on immigrant labor across sectors such as healthcare, elderly care, construction, agriculture, logistics, and technology. As the working-age population shrinks, tax and social security revenues decline, while expenditures on pensions and healthcare rise. The European Commission’s 2024 Aging Report demonstrates that aging populations exert long-term pressure on spending related to pensions, healthcare, and long-term care (https://economy-finance.ec.europa.eu/publications/2024-ageing-report-economic-and-budgetary-projections-eu-member-states-2022-2070_en).

Furthermore, migration is not merely an economic issue, but a humanitarian one. People are compelled to leave their home countries due to war, oppression, poverty, the climate crisis, or restrictions on academic and political freedoms. From the perspective of academic solidarity, academics, physicians, journalists, and students in exile are not merely “labor”; they are human beings whose rights have been violated. Opening our doors to them is, first and foremost, a human rights responsibility—one that takes precedence over demographic calculations.

Nevertheless, it would be incorrect to assert that migration constitutes a solution under all circumstances. The United Nations’ discussions regarding “replacement migration” have demonstrated that while migration can serve as a tool to offset population decline and aging, doing so may necessitate extremely high and sustained levels of immigration. Immigrants, too, age over time; they become integrated into the social system, bringing with them their families, children, and their own educational and healthcare needs. Consequently, “more migration”—taken in isolation—does not constitute a sustainable demographic policy (https://www.un.org/development/desa/pd/sites/www.un.org.development.desa.pd/files/unpd-egm_200010_un_2001_replacementmigration.pdf).

Migration also entails societal costs. Rapid and unplanned migration can place significant strain on the housing market, schools, healthcare services, and local government institutions. Without provisions for language training, professional credential recognition, equitable employment opportunities, and robust measures to combat discrimination, integration efforts are liable to fail. Such failure not only victimizes the immigrants themselves but also fuels anti-immigrant sentiment within the host community.

Another critical issue concerns the countries of origin. When affluent nations attract physicians, nurses, engineers, and academics, poorer or more fragile nations risk losing their skilled human capital. The World Bank notes that while migration can yield benefits for countries of origin—such as remittances and the transfer of knowledge—it may simultaneously heighten the risk of a “brain drain” in certain nations. Particularly in countries with weak healthcare systems, this loss can be a problem not merely economic but one that directly impacts human lives (https://www.worldbank.org/en/publication/wdr2023).

It is also necessary to examine the rationale behind anti-migration policies. Each country’s capacity for integration, housing availability, public services, and social equilibrium must be taken into account. Unplanned, uncontrolled migration can create problems for both the local population and migrants themselves. However, it would be incorrect to conclude from this that we should simply “close the doors.” Refugee protection is both an international and a moral obligation. Portraying migrants solely as a burden or a threat distorts reality and fuels xenophobia.

In reality, migration is not without alternatives; yet, a solution entirely devoid of migration is equally unrealistic. To achieve a fairer migration policy, migrants must not be viewed merely as economic instruments. Partnerships in education, healthcare, and science should be established with countries of origin, and “brain circulation”—rather than “brain drain”—should be encouraged. Support should be provided to enable migrant academics and experts to maintain ties with their countries of origin, undertake collaborative projects, and contribute to knowledge transfer.

In aging societies, migration can be part of a broader social policy package. It is natural for host countries to consider factors such as female employment, healthy aging, education, technology, family support, and their responsibilities toward countries of origin. However, forced migration—driven by humanitarian and political imperatives—occupies a distinct category. Here, on one side lie the acute concerns of human life, liberty, and security; on the other, the long-term economic and demographic interests of states. Naturally, countries must take into account their own capacities, societal equilibria, and potential for integration. Yet, the immediate preservation of human life cannot be sacrificed to long-term calculations of self-interest. Consequently, when issues such as war, persecution, political repression, the suppression of academic freedoms, or the violation of fundamental human rights are at stake, supporting migration is not merely a choice, but a moral imperative. The fundamental challenge lies not in evaluating migration solely through a cost-benefit analysis, but in making it more equitable, humane, and responsible for both host and origin societies.

Simply telling young people to “put down the phone” is not enough. We must show them a future that is worth putting the phone down for.

In the modern economy, it is no longer just labor, capital, and knowledge that are in competition; human attention, too, has become a marketable resource. Social media platforms, short-form video apps, online games, cryptocurrency markets, betting culture, and promises of quick riches are all chasing after the same scarce resource: the time and attention of young people.

For this reason, the concept of the “attention economy” is not merely a technological issue. It is a matter intertwined with education, employment, mental health, social inequality, and human capital. This issue takes on even greater significance in societies where youth education and employment rates are low.

There is a specific term used to describe young people who are neither in education, nor in employment, nor in vocational training: NEET (Youth not in employment, education or training) (https://www.oecd.org/en/data/indicators/youth-not-in-employment-education-or-training-neet.html). According to Eurostat data, in 2024, approximately 11% of young people aged 15–29 within the European Union fell into the NEET category (https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/statistics-explained/index.php?title=Statistics_on_young_people_neither_in_employment_nor_in_education_or_training). In Turkey, this picture is far worse. Reports based on youth data from TurkStat indicate that 23.3% of young people aged 15–24 are neither in education nor in employment (https://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/amp/nearly-one-in-four-young-people-in-turkiye-neither-studying-nor-employed-data-shows-222131). These figures go beyond mere economic statistics; they reflect society’s forward-looking capacity for production, learning, and renewal.

For a young person to cultivate a long-term skill, time, discipline, repetition, and patience are required. Learning a language, acquiring a trade, gaining academic depth, developing software, becoming a skilled artisan, mastering scientific inquiry, or specializing in a field that generates social value—none of these occur overnight. Yet, the attention economy constantly offers individuals rewards that are faster, easier, and more stimulating. Short-form videos, instant “likes,” rapidly consumable content, and tales of speculative riches are causing long-term effort to give way to short-term dopamine loops.

The most dangerous aspect of this cycle is not merely that it results in wasted time. More importantly, it fundamentally alters the expectation structure of young people. As the concept of success—traditionally built upon hard work, education, professional expertise, and social contribution—begins to erode, the allure of “rising to the top overnight,” “going viral,” “getting rich through crypto,” “making a fortune in the stock market,” “becoming an influencer,” or “securing one’s future via a shortcut” grows ever stronger. Of course, there are individuals who achieve success in these arenas. However, these are, more often than not, exceptional cases. The attention economy highlights these exceptions while rendering invisible the losses incurred by the majority—and the time they have squandered.

Here, a “winner-takes-all” logic prevails. While a select few attain immense visibility, substantial income, or massive financial gains, a far larger multitude merely expends their hours, their attention, and their capacity for learning. This situation proves particularly devastating for vulnerable young people. Young people who have become disengaged from education, failed to enter the labor market, struggled to find their vocational path, or whose hopes for the future have dimmed may be more likely to gravitate toward speculative pursuits rather than engage in patient skill-building. This is because long-term paths may appear closed off, arduous, or meaningless to them, whereas short-term promises seem more attainable.

It is inappropriate to approach this issue solely through the lens of moral panic. Generalizations such as “young people are lazy,” “they have been corrupted by their phones,” or “things weren’t like this in the past” can prevent us from recognizing the structural dimensions of the problem. For the issue at hand is not merely a matter of weak individual willpower. On one side lies high youth unemployment, a mismatch between education and employment, job insecurity, and stalled social mobility; on the other stand algorithmic systems designed by the world’s most powerful corporations specifically to capture and retain human attention. The young individual often finds themselves isolated amidst these two converging pressures.

The OECD’s assessments of children’s lives in the digital age also underscore this complexity. Social media use does not have the same effect on every child or young person; rather, the nature of the content, the manner of use, existing offline vulnerabilities, and one’s social environment can be decisive factors. However, particular emphasis is placed on the fact that, especially among vulnerable adolescents, social media use may be linked to addiction-like behaviors and stress. Consequently, the issue is not merely “screen time,” but rather which psychological and social voids the screen serves to fill (https://www.oecd.org/en/publications/how-s-life-for-children-in-the-digital-age_0854b900-en/full-report/introduction-and-main-findings_67c79516.html).

It is no coincidence that, today, many countries are attempting to limit children’s and adolescents’ social media usage or to regulate the addictive designs of these platforms. Within the European Union, new regulations targeting manipulative and addictive digital designs are currently under discussion; meanwhile, in various countries—most notably Australia—age restrictions regarding children’s access to social media are being brought to the agenda. These developments demonstrate that the “attention economy” is no longer a simple issue that can be resolved solely through individual family upbringing (https://www.reuters.com/world/eu-targets-social-media-protect-children-von-der-leyen-says-2026-05-12/).

However, prohibitions and restrictions alone are insufficient. The fundamental challenge is to once again offer young people a meaningful vision of the future. If a young person does not believe they can build a future through education, a profession, science, the arts, a craft, or social contribution, it is simply impossible to divert their attention away from screens. When this vacant attention is not filled with a meaningful objective, it will inevitably revert to the same cycle.

Therefore, the most potent response to the attention economy is not merely a “digital detox,” but rather a focus on the skills economy, the work ethic, and policies of social justice. Young people’s access to quality education, career guidance, internship and employment opportunities, academic freedom, spaces for cultural production, and safe social environments must be actively supported. Young people classified as NEETs should not be viewed merely as a statistical category, but rather as potential scientists, teachers, physicians, technicians, artists, entrepreneurs, and citizens—individuals whom society runs the risk of losing.

A society’s human capital does not vanish overnight. First, attention becomes fragmented; then, the motivation to learn wanes; subsequently, skill development is disrupted; and finally, hope for the future begins to fade. Ultimately, high-quality human capital melts away like snow in the sun. To halt this erosion, simply telling young people to “put down the phone” is not enough. We must show them a future worth putting the phone down for.

The issue of fate and free will, debated by Islamic scholars for over a thousand years, is now one of the most challenging questions in modern physics.

A video published on BBC Reel reminds us that modern physics is bringing an ancient question back to the forefront: Does free will truly exist, or are human decisions, like other events in the universe, part of a predetermined cause-and-effect chain? The video questions the relationship between natural laws, causality, and human behavior, noting that some physicists may view free will as an illusion. While this question may seem to belong to modern science at first glance, it is actually a re-asking, in a different language, of the issue of fate, determinism, and human responsibility that has been debated for centuries in the Islamic intellectual tradition. The BBC video frames this debate as “physics pointing to the absence of free will” (https://www.bbc.com/reel/video/p086tg3k/watch).

In modern philosophy, “determinism” roughly holds that if the past state and the laws of nature are the same, the future will necessarily unfold in the same way. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy defines determinism as the emergence of the same future under the same past and the same laws of nature. If this approach is correct, the question of whether humans can “act differently” becomes a serious problem. Because a person’s decision ultimately seems to depend on brain processes, biological structures, environmental influences, and physical laws (https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/freewill/).

This debate is not only theoretical. The issue of free will is directly linked to moral responsibility. If humans truly cannot choose, how can we speak of good and evil, crime and virtue, courage and betrayal, supporting or resisting oppression? Therefore, the relationship between free will, moral responsibility, and determinism is considered one of the most controversial areas in philosophical literature. Some philosophers argue that even if determinism is true, moral responsibility does not disappear entirely; This approach is known as “compatibilism” (https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/compatibilism/).

In Islamic thought, the same question has been asked with different concepts: Is man truly free in his actions, or is he completely compelled by God’s decree? This question has been answered in different ways across the history of Kalam, including Jabriyya, Qadariyyah/Mu’tazilite, Ash’ari, Maturidi, and Shi’ite Kalam.

The Jabriyya approach emphasizes that man is not truly free in his actions. According to this view, man is not the independent agent of his own actions; actions ultimately occur under the absolute will and power of God. There is a striking similarity between strict determinism in modern physics and Jabriyya in this respect. One considers the universe through the laws of nature, the other through divine will, but both question whether man has a “completely free starting point.”

At the opposite end of the spectrum from the Jabriyyah are the Qadariyyah and the Mu’tazilite school of thought. Britannica defines the Qadariyyah as proponents of the doctrine of free will in Islam, noting that this name is also used for the Mu’tazilite, who argue that humans can choose between good and evil through their own free will. The Mu’tazilites’ fundamental concern is God’s justice: If humans are punished for actions they did not choose, how is this compatible with divine justice? Therefore, the Mu’tazilites create a strong space for free will to protect human moral responsibility (https://www.britannica.com/topic/Qadariyyah).

The Ahl al-Sunnah tradition, on the other hand, has generally sought a balance between the two extremes. In the Ash’ari approach, God is the creator of the action; humans “acquire” the action, that is, they adopt and possess it through their will. This approach, while striving to preserve God’s absolute power, does not completely reject human responsibility. However, throughout history, some commentators have believed that the Ash’ari tradition left a limited scope for human free will.

The Maturidi tradition, on the other hand, stands out for granting a more distinct scope for human free will. Britannica notes that while Maturidism emphasizes God’s absolute power, it also grants humans a minimum degree of freedom to justly reward or punish them. In this approach, God’s knowledge does not mean coercion. That is, God knows what humans will choose, but knowing and coercion are not the same thing (https://www.britannica.com/topic/Maturidiyah).

A similar middle-ground formula has been developed in Shi’ite theology: “Neither coercion nor complete impunity; a middle path between the two.” This approach neither views humans as an absolute agent independent of God nor reduces them to a completely passive being. In this respect, there is a common sensitivity in the main currents of Islamic thought: while preserving God’s knowledge and power, efforts are made to ensure that human moral responsibility is not rendered meaningless.

The modern physics debate finds an interesting point of contact with Islamic theology here. Physics asks, “If every event has a physical cause, how free is human decision-making?” Theology, on the other hand, asks, “If everything is within God’s knowledge and decree, how responsible is man?” One thinks through the laws of nature, the other through divine knowledge and will. But at the heart of both lies the same tension: How can determinism and responsibility be considered together?

Of course, modern physics has not definitively proven that free will is impossible. Current discussions, such as chaos theory, quantum uncertainty, and the emergence of consciousness in complex systems, make it difficult to maintain a rigid, simplistic understanding of determinism. For example, a recent assessment published on Space.com emphasizes that physics seriously challenges free will, but topics like chaos, quantum mechanics, and “emergence” do not close the matter; on the contrary, they make it more complex (https://www.space.com/science/particle-physics/does-physics-say-that-free-will-doesnt-exist).

At this point, Islamic scholars and physicists have much to learn from each other. Physicists can benefit from the delicate balance that Islamic theology has sought to strike for centuries between fate, divine knowledge, human free will, and moral responsibility. Islamic thinkers, in turn, can benefit from the new horizons opened by modern physics regarding causality, uncertainty, complexity, and consciousness. Such an encounter does not mean reducing science to religion or making religion an endorsement of physics. More accurately, it means that humanity’s great questions reappear in different languages within different intellectual traditions.

This discussion is particularly significant for academic freedom. Because the issue of free will and fate is not merely a theoretical problem, it is also important for understanding human responsibility during periods of oppression. Authoritarian regimes often drive people to feel, “I had no other choice.” Bureaucrats, academics, judges, journalists, or doctors sometimes explain their silence by circumstances, by fear, or by fate. Phrases like “That’s just how things were at the time,” “Everyone did it that way,” and “There was nothing I could do,” are like the secular determinism of modern times…

However, both our moral intuition and the main current of Islamic thought tell us this: Man is not entirely outside of circumstances, but neither is he entirely a prisoner of them. Family, society, fear, self-interest, biology, politics, and pressure influence human decisions. But being under the influence does not mean responsibility disappears entirely. Sometimes, even if it’s within a narrow scope, sometimes at great cost, sometimes in solitude, man is forced to make a choice. It is in this realm of choice that moral identity is shaped.

In the same oppressive environment, we see some academics remaining silent, some aligning themselves with power, some legitimizing injustice, and others standing by the truth by paying the price. Understanding this difference requires neither simple fatalism nor viewing man as an absolutely free being independent of all circumstances.

Ultimately, modern physics and Islamic theology discuss the same question in different languages: Does man truly choose? The answer to this question is not easy. However, it is possible to say this much: Will may not be limitless; humans make decisions under the influence of many visible and invisible factors. But limited will does not mean irresponsibility. Humans are beings capable of directing themselves towards truth, justice, and conscience within the limited scope of possibilities given to them. A person’s value lies in the choices they make within this narrow scope.