Between the Scientist's Microscope and the Scalpel of Politics
My journey was never a straight line drawn with the ruler of precise calculations, but rather an eternal struggle and anxiety between two contradictory worlds: the world of the laboratory where absolute precision prevails, rigorous logic, and results that flatter no one, and the world of politics where gray dominates the scene, evasion is an art, and promises are words scattered by the winds of interests.
In these pages, I do not narrate an official history of Iraq, burdened with wounds, but rather open a "notebook of memories" of an academic who found himself divided in heart and mind between the sober research rooms of Birmingham and Dublin, and the corridors of national work in exile, where dreams brushed against the clouds and divisions carved into the single body.
The 1990s were the peak of existential "fragmentation"—a fragmentation beautiful in its idealism and painful in its reality. I would spend my days chasing "programmed cell death" under the microscope, trying to understand the secrets of decay and renewal in the cell, while spending my nights with comrades on the path, trying to practice "programmed revival" of an Iraqi hope that had eroded under the weight of dictatorship.
I would return from international scientific conferences, where the language of numbers and academic reverence prevailed, to descend into meetings of the Iraqi opposition and face the language of apprehension, role conflicts, and clashing visions. Between this and that, my gateway to peace was my home, where my children taught me that one pure love surpasses in value the noise of science and the clamor of politics combined.
In this book, I pause at stations and faces that shaped my consciousness and refined my vision of the homeland. I remember those personalities who accompanied me, from a companion distinguished by the precision of a physician and the pragmatism of the knowledgeable, to pure souls who left us carrying the certainty of change, to leaders and figures who sparked debate and left their marks on the path of modern Iraq.
I narrate here our meetings, not merely to document events, but to present a courageous critical review of that era. We once thought, with hearts full of optimism, that the fall of the "symbol of tyranny" would automatically herald the dawn of the "state of institutions," not realizing then that building a human being is far more difficult than demolishing idols.
The most painful part of these memoirs is the "dream that did not come true." That return in April 2003, when I carried in my luggage the expertise of a technocrat and dreams of reconstruction and advancement of education and scientific research. But those dreams quickly shattered on the rock of the bitter reality of quota politics and narrow horizons.
I discovered, with the bitterness of a scientist, that building "knee cartilage" or "repairing blood cells" in the laboratory was far easier than trying to convince a political mind immersed in narrow gains of the feasibility of university independence or the sanctity of scientific integrity.
These pages are a living testimony to a historical moment when "science" tried to rescue the "homeland," before realizing that the wound is deeper than theories suggest. It is the story of a man who believed that "the right person in the right place" is the law of nature that should also govern politics, only to pay for this belief with painful alienation at home and an attempted assassination that almost ended the story before its time.
I dedicate these papers to future generations, not as a restoration of the past, but as a call reminding that Iraq's renaissance and the rectitude of its path will only be achieved through enlightened reason, strict integrity, and the belief that science and homeland are inseparable values.
And although I have exerted my utmost in the accuracy of documentation, I acknowledge that what is written here has been subject to the logic of selectivity; human memory—however sharp—remains hostage to the power of time and the crowding of monumental events that may obscure some details. What I have recorded is but a small portion of a life tape that was occupied for decades in the corridors of science and the turns of politics, in which I chose to condense experience rather than drown in monotonous narration that might fill volumes without benefit.
It is worth noting that in arranging these pages, I did not strictly adhere to the chronological sequence of events, as I saw fit to present topics and delay others based on their scientific or political interconnectedness, in order to highlight the essence of experience rather than merely narrating history. Therefore, the reader may find that some stations overlap or leap across years, driven by the logic of linking ideas with their counterparts, in pursuit of presenting a comprehensive picture of the path I traversed between the worlds of the laboratory and national work.
Thus, my goal was not merely personal history, but rather an attempt to extract 'lessons' I derived from the stumbles of the road, and 'teachings' that life taught me in its great laboratories. They are memories I wanted to be a bridge for generations to cross; not to read my story alone, but to gain insight from the experience of a man who believed that truth—no matter how fragmentary it may seem—is the only legacy worth preserving.
Finally, I ask the esteemed reader to excuse any unintended oversight in information or dates; what is recorded here is drawn from the memory reserves that may be weakened by the passage of years, not from an intent to distort, and sincerity of intention is what I rely upon.
Mohamed Ali Fadhil Al-Rubeai
Rabat, 2026