Interview with Thierry Balzacq, head of doctoral studies in political science

It would be convenient to confine my answer to the intellectual path I've taken so far. But, since we are never exclusively the product of our talent or our choices, I think it's important to mention that my path in life didn't begin under the best of auspices. Indeed, my early years, like those of many people who lose a parent before birth, were, to paraphrase Kafka, tempestuous. From this initial experience, which could have hampered many a trajectory, I developed a philosophy based on three principles: firstly, work is a powerful ally – alas, not always sufficient – in freeing oneself from the constraints of an unconventional social background. Secondly, there can be no growth, let alone fulfilment, without mobility and without frequent contacts with other ways of doing, being and thinking. Thirdly, we shouldn't attribute everything to luck, but it would be dishonest to underestimate its impact on our lives.

I've studied, worked, and lived in seven countries on five continents. My academic studies took place at three universities: first, at the University of Louvain, where I completed a double degree (not a dual degree, but two completely separate programmes), and was awarded Bachelor's degrees in philosophy and political science, and two Master's degrees (what used to be called the Diploma of Advanced Studies); then at Cambridge, where I completed my doctoral thesis (supported by three excellence scholarships) in just under three years; and finally at Harvard, where I completed my training with a post-doc thanks to generous funding from the Belgian American Educational Foundation (BAEF). I was recruited as a University Professor at Sciences Po in 2018 and took up my post in 2019.

It's a difficult question, because the spark of interest is never planned, at least not in detail. We come to a subject or, rather, a subject comes to us by unexpected paths. But there are undoubtedly certain predispositions or sensitivities to certain themes, shaped in particular by our training, our personal history (which is also the history we've lived with others), or our character. I'm more attracted by major issues, i.e., those that engage the very existence of complex human societies (nations, states, etc.), nourished by structuring conceptual issues that force several disciplinary identities to engage in dialogue.

More concretely, for example, I have long been interested in the way in which societies, at different levels, elevate certain issues above others to the status of a security threat, thus creating the conditions for immediate, even exceptional, intervention by public authorities. This is known as securitisation. I then studied the repercussions of security policies on the social fabric, the normative architecture of the State, and the balance of power. Finally, I have tried to understand the circumstances that influence the evolution of a security issue’s salience over time. All this could not be achieved without the calibrated contribution of knowledge drawn from political science, of course, but also from law, philosophy, sociology and history. As I tend to quickly find myself confined within a single research sector, I need the intellectual and emotional stimulation offered by transactions between several areas of specialisation. I'm very fortunate to have seen this research work arouse considerable interest, including beyond the realms of political science. While securitisation has become one of the dominant theories in security studies, the approach I developed has, according to Rita Floyd, come to be “more popular than the Copenhagen School’s version”.

The other themes followed the same thread, but with ambitions that did not necessarily converge.

Over the last few years, I've devoted most of my research to examining the cultural, technological, and organisational underpinnings of the strategic competencies of states. This is the realm of grand strategy. Simply put, grand strategy is the reasoned and meaningful linking of the state's resources to achieve its medium- and long-term interests. This methodologically comparative study examined the grand strategy of states with different capabilities, adhering to distinct or even competing ideologies, in different geographical contexts and at specific moments in their history (ascendant powers versus declining powers, status quo powers versus revisionist powers, authoritarian powers versus democratic powers, etc.). In particular, we learn that grand strategy resists our historical certainties (for example, that it is the exclusive affair of the major states, or that it is a matter solely for the military) and poses in terms that are renewed, but particularly brutal for European states (if we are to believe Josep Borrell), the question of the shrinking or sluggishness of the strategic imagination and the responsibility of leaders who have given up (or are insufficiently trained in) thinking about collective meaning and the common good over the long term.

Because grand strategy, as I see it, links in relative proportions diplomatic, economic, and military tools, my work has gradually shifted towards the study of diplomacy. This is what led me to the current project on a “world theory of diplomacy”. Basically, my main concern can be formulated as follows: to explore, across time and space, how diplomacy has gradually evolved from a public policy with an external vocation, to a singular form of international social life.

The doctorate is the highest level of academic recognition a university can award its students. It is in this context that major social, political, and economic innovations have been forged. I'm privileged to bear witness to these remarkable career paths, and to help each of the graduating classes we host to realise their projects and find their place in a professional world where improvisation is rarely an asset. Political science, whose demographics account for just over 50% of the School of Research's population, involves a substantial workload, but it's an investment that makes sense insofar as it enables me to play a part in integrating PhD students into the chain of union that links generations of political scientists.

It's an old, tried-and-tested recipe, but you have to be willing to apply it without concession: work, work, work. This should not be construed as a candid apology for merit, which often serves to reproduce inherited positions. Indeed, in my opinion, universities are one of the few sectors of society that support excellence while working to reduce the weight of social background, skin colour, or gender on our lives. In truth, completing a doctorate is not the most difficult obstacle to overcome. At Sciences Po, applicants go through a highly selective assessment process, so the risk of miscasting is very limited. Negotiating the post-doctoral period is trickier, particularly in view of the scarcity of positions at universities and the still uncertain status (even if things are moving a little) of the doctorate in the French public service. Hence my second recommendation: a successful doctorate involves planning for the future.

There are many reasons why people consider writing a doctoral thesis, and they are often very personal, albeit with a few similarities (the desire to delve deeper into a subject they feel strongly about, the desire to obtain a degree that will enable them to take up high-level positions in universities or elsewhere, etc.). That said, I think the most decisive question before taking the plunge is, “A thesis for what?” or, put another way, “Is a thesis absolutely essential to achieve my career goals?” To this must be added a sincere introspection of one's willingness or ability to make the sacrifices (for there are some) involved in this long journey towards excellence. Excitement must not overshadow lucidity. Finally, because places are fiercely contested both for access to top academic journals and for jobs (not always the ones of your dreams), you have to be prepared to weather repeated failures. Among academics, the CV of failures is far more extensive than that of successes. That's why boosting your mental health is a crucial part of your doctoral career.

The research centre is the natural habitat for doctoral students. Although the School of Research provides part of their training and offers junior researchers robust logistical and financial support, it is within the research centre that students conduct the bulk of their daily lives – learning the trade, developing the professional skills that will play a decisive role throughout their careers, and forging their first collaborations. Because the students we welcome and support build deep memories during their years in the research centre, it's really crucial that they feel at home.