BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR
INTERNATIONAL & COMPARATIVE EDUCATION
Evidence, Politics, and the Space Between: Reflections of a Policy Analyst
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The space between evidence-based policy and social critique can feel like walking a tightrope. For 17 years, I navigated this delicate balance at a think-and-do-tank in Türkiye’s education sector, learning firsthand how professional boundaries shape what we can say and how we can say it. The politics behind it have been more of a roller coaster, and I am concerned that the period that feels like the downfall for many has not ended. However, I exited the car in 2019 to pursue a long-delayed dream. I have been pursuing my doctorate in educational policy studies with a concentration on international comparative education, the same field I got my master’s in 2002. Transitioning from policy practice to critical policy scholarship has been a generative, complex, and challenging journey that embodies a constant reflection of lived experiences through new ways of thinking. I think of this transitional space as araf, borrowing from Islam,a liminal space of reflection devoid of judgment.
This liminal space has led me to question how policy analysts’ agency to address the ideological and political pillars of policy intersects with the normative framework of an increasingly prevalent evidence-based policy realm. Drawing on theories about policy analysis and intellectuals’ role in society, I examine how professional boundaries shape our work as policy analysts. I argue that evidence-based policy analysis operates within the boundaries of professional norms, including what constitutes ‘legitimate evidence.’ Border protection agents (representing both state and dominant ideologies) often reject narratives they view as transgressing these boundaries. Furthermore, depending on the local political context, these agents may seek retribution for border crossings. Let me illustrate this through a personal experience.
December 2016 offered a vivid illustration of these boundaries. OECD’s PISA (Program for International Student Assessment) 2015 results showed Türkiye’s learning achievement had dropped to 2003 levels, but the context was telling. Under a state of emergency following a failed coup attempt by a clandestine network within state institutions, with political rights and civil liberties curtailed, these disappointing results could not generate meaningful public debate about education policy.
In this context, I was interviewed by a journalist from a prominent daily newspaper. What began as a ‘safe’ discussion of the economic implications of educational shortcomings gradually moved into contested territory. I ventured beyond these boundaries, questioning the decades-long operational mindset of the education bureaucracy. I criticized the ideological nature of education legislation and the lack of critical thinking in pedagogy and curriculum. Beyond evidence-based diagnosis and solutions, I called for a genuine, transparent, and pluralistic debate about our collective approach to education. These critical reflections emerged from years of engagement with Türkiye’s education landscape and diverse stakeholders. I aimed to provoke dialogue, not prescribe solutions. I believed then, as now, in the power of public deliberation over using education as a tool for indoctrination. For a change in Türkiye’s education realm, I thought we should acknowledge the politics within policy, the elephant in the room, and deal with it openly rather than ignoring it.
The backlash for crossing these boundaries came swiftly and from multiple directions. A senior ministry official embargoed all communication and collaboration with our institution pending his approval, claiming we “intended to erode the nation’s trust in and the reputation of the state.” While the ministry welcomed critiques “based on scientific data and research,” it was a pity we failed those standards. Academic circles joined, with fellow scholars sarcastically questioning my “scientific” approach. These personal encounters with border crossings and their consequences illuminate the relationship between two distinct approaches: evidence-based policy that treats education as a technocratic issue and critical inquiry that questions its political, social, and cultural foundations. The boundaries between these approaches shift with time and context – becoming more or less permeable as freedoms in Türkiye expanded and contracted or as regimes elsewhere showed varying tolerance for critique. Yet regardless of these temporal and spatial variations, the professional norms of evidence-based policy and the policy analyst tend to reinforce these divisions.
Throughout my experiences, I also witnessed evidence-based policy’s effectiveness in building bridges with policymakers and diverse constituencies. While valuable for driving change, it needs to be situated within broader social transformation, maintaining a productive tension between empirical evidence and political reality. My perspective underscores the fundamental tension between the promise and limits of evidence-based policy in driving social change, a challenge that is both historical and contemporary. The Sveriges Riksbank Prize awarded to economists who developed and popularised randomised controlled trials exemplifies the high-status acknowledgment of evidence-based policy, troublingly positioned as a panacea of empirical solution to complex social, cultural, and political challenges and as an alternative to the messy work of system-wide change through policy. Policy processes remain inherently bureaucratic, political, and frustrating, while social change continues to be slow and challenging. Our future educators and policy analysts deserve to understand these complexities.
How can we foster this understanding? Graduate programmes could balance technical training with a critical understanding of how evidence operates in a world of competing values and ideologies. Learning how to undertake a cost-benefit analysis of free school lunch should come with questioning why we need such empirical data to do a policy that could be fundamentally moral, value-driven, and right-based. Working in this liminal space – questioning both evidence and its absence, may help us develop more nuanced and ethical approaches to policy.
