Get Out

 After many many years living in the wilderness of academia and research isolation, attending my first workshop feels like an unveiling.

1. I realize that most people are simply iterating the same old, good ideas. Breakthroughs are rare, and much of the work is derivative. What allows them to continue is not necessarily originality, but access to a professional environment—contacts, resources, and collective momentum within an artificially-constructed bubble of mutual validation and support.

2. And yet, despite the fact that the field has only moved slightly, I found myself lagging behind by several light-years. That is the hardest realization: they moved a little, but I didn’t move at all. Despite all the illusion and disillusion. It became painfully clear in how difficult communication has become. Not like I remembered it. It’s as if I am speaking a different language now. I found myself truly isolated—after years of real isolation. 

The conclusion is harsh but true: academia and research are fundamentally social and international enterprises. They simply cannot be sustained from the North African subcontinent—not without the social layer, which I personally lack, nor without the global network, which the sub-continent itself lacks.

I was not bypassed because I lacked talent or vision.
I was bypassed because this field does not move by talent alone.
It moves by access—by networks, institutions, visa policies, and unspoken cultural codes.

None of that ever extinguished the fire I carried alone for decades.
But eventually, it did. And I was caught in the wheel of history, rolling down the hill.

And so a deeper realization emerges from this: it’s time to get out. In fact, getting out is long, long overdue.

Of course, “getting out” can take many forms. It could mean leaving academia entirely. It could mean migrating. It could mean rebuilding something new, outside the traditional centers. It could mean becoming a bridge rather than a node.

But for me—at my age, with my abilities, and within my circumstances—“getting out” can only mean one thing: to give priority to my children’s future, and to finally let go of my dream, and let go of theoretical physics.

It is only objectively honest to end with a word of advice to students from the North African subcontinent:
No one from here should pursue theoretical physics.
Not because they lack the intellect, or the passion, or the capacity for brilliance.

But because there is no real—nor even imagined—future for this field in this region, or even in the world as it currently stands. Not in its current form.

No matter how gifted you are, no matter how persistent your dream, you will find yourself stranded—trapped between the reality of theoretical physics and the geography of North Africa.

You deserve a life where your gifts are not wasted in silence,
but recognized and validated in proportion to your talent and your hard work.