Ibrahim Al-Jabin
Some people find it excessive that Syrians seek to establish a new awareness that enables them to maintain a necessary distance for freedom of thought and accountability from “authority” — any authority, whether a governing authority, a social authority, public opinion, or ideological currents that may practice intellectual intimidation and condemn or criminalize others simply for thinking in ways they dislike. This golden distance is what we call “critical distance.”
Others assume that advocating for a critical distance contradicts active engagement with the phenomena and people surrounding us, including authority and its officials. According to this view, one must remain fully aligned with authority at all times.
Meanwhile, some believe that differing perspectives on an issue inevitably require severing ties and engaging in fierce hostility — a tendency that is closer to fanaticism than to a balanced and stable position.
To sense the existence of such a distance, everything begins with awareness of one’s own existence and, consequently, awareness of the objective circumstances surrounding it. Without this awareness and the responsibilities that come with it, there can be no discussion of a “critical distance,” only arguments, shouting, and violence that ultimately lead nowhere.
No one begins solely from the self; otherwise, society would become nothing more than a mountain of subjective illusions. Even when an individual believes they are acting from their own unique culture, they are, in reality, influenced by a vast crowd of others living within them — those with whom they agree and those with whom they disagree.
Since the fall of the former regime on December 8, 2024, the inability to grasp these fundamentals has become more evident than anything else in the various forms of Syrian interaction, ranging from calm dialogue to destructive and nihilistic confrontation.
Intellectuals, like all Syrians, inherit a heavy legacy — not only from the political system that dominated their lives, but also from the intellectual systems that shaped public life and have now become part of the past. Yet these systems have not been renewed to become worthy of the present moment. This inheritance often leaves intellectuals wary of what is called “consensus,” which they may regard as a form of intellectual contamination, having long been trained to think against the prevailing collective mindset.
Authority once crushed individual voices, constantly working to silence them, suppress them, and erase those who expressed them. Meanwhile, the environment remained open to groups, political movements, parties, sectarian and ethnic organizations, while the individual voice remained imprisoned, exiled, or marginalized.
In this context, one recalls the French philosopher Julien Benda, author of The Treason of the Intellectuals, published a few years after the end of the First World War, nearly ninety-nine years before today. Benda sought to redefine the intellectual, describing those who are seduced by power and drawn toward despotism — intellectuals who betray their principles and moral commitments instead of dedicating themselves to justice and truth.
According to Benda, intellectuals should challenge power, not serve it or justify its every decision. That is the role expected of them.
For Benda, the masses represent consensus; they are driven by material interests and motivated by national, religious, and class instincts. Intellectuals, by contrast, are a distinguished group armed with knowledge and committed to presenting truths rather than serving interests. Between these two groups, authority plays its game by attracting and tempting certain intellectuals.
However, the late Arab thinker Edward Said regarded Benda’s moral portrait of the intellectual as somewhat exaggerated. The intellectual imagined by Benda is someone willing to sacrifice themselves entirely for truth, unconcerned with being rejected or even crucified.
In his book Representations of the Intellectual, published in Beirut by Dar Al-Nahar in 1997, Edward Said offered a different image. He viewed the intellectual as a collective conscience, equipped with knowledge and prepared to challenge centers of power wherever they are found. He described the intellectual as “a disruptive and oppositional figure, unwilling to conform to a national group or political party.”
Among those who discussed Said’s ideas was the Palestinian academic Raef Zreik, who, in an article published in the Journal of Palestine Studies (Issue 19, Spring 2019), posed several questions alongside Said’s reflections: What is the value of this constant challenge and discomfort? Why should rebellion, nonconformity, and challenging the group be considered desirable? Is standing against power always positive? We often need power and collective organization. Do projects of liberation and the building of new societies not require a central authority to manage affairs?
Although this line of thought ultimately reinforces the intellectual’s need to continue questioning both the “collective” and centers of power, Said concludes that the intellectual’s role is to preserve a space and distance without which criticism becomes impossible. In the Syrian context, however, this should not be limited to governing authorities alone but should extend to all forms of collective power and influence.
I remain aligned with Edward Said’s reasoning, which leads him to conclude that intellectuals should not share in the power of authority, whether governmental, media-related, or financial. Yet deliberately refusing to belong to these centers of power also means, in many respects, lacking the ability to produce direct change and instead being reduced to the role of a witness — someone who testifies to a disturbing reality that might otherwise go unrecorded.
At that point, the intellectual shifts from being an active agent to becoming an observer. The question then arises: does this role enable meaningful change?
Reflecting on such ideas is essential for those engaged in Syrian public affairs at this particular moment, especially for those who wish to avoid a sharp polarization that could generate unnecessary fractures within society. It is enough for each person to maintain a flexible critical distance — neither rigid, stubborn, nor confused — to preserve their ability to serve truth, society, and the country.
If one fails to do so, they may simply be occupied, out of self-interest, with preserving the image they have grown accustomed to, at the expense of everyone else.
Syrian Al-Thawra Newspaper
