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.
