Contra Chomsky
A post from a few days ago prompted a long discussion in the comments about linguist and political gadfly Noam Chomsky, which made me think through some of my own reactions to Chomsky’s work. When I was younger, I read a fair amount of his writing, including Language and Politics and four or five of his monographs on issues of the day (Gulf War I, the media, etc.). He’s clearly an intelligent man, a passionate and charismatic speaker, and a principled advocate for his positions. He also serves a useful role in the political discourse by staking out a certain far edge of the debate and plunging fearlessly into discussion of uncomfortable issues. This is his right as a citizen, and I respect him for it.
That said, I have found myself increasingly uncomfortable with his stand on the issues, particularly with respect to international affairs (his observations on the media, I think, are quite apt and were well ahead of their time), and believe what he writes these days is often poorly supported by facts, naïve, and objectively in support of extremely dubious interests. He’s become something of a celebrity on the far left for his almost reflexive opposition to any exercise of American power, and while it may be worth applauding the impulse to dissent for its own sake, those on the left who actually care about outcomes and political practicality would be wise to keep their distance.
First, let’s acknowledge his strengths. I think both his supporters and critics would agree that Chomsky is at his best when he’s identifying injustice. Over the years, he’s catalogued atrocities from Vietnam to East Timor to South Africa and Central America. Almost all the horrors he points to in these places are real, and deserve the outrage he summons on their behalf. To the extent that American government and American business are responsible, they have a lot to answer for.
The problem is, black seems to be the only color in Chomsky’s palette. Valid outrage over injustice at some point has to admit the possibility of justice – not just as some abstract, but as a realistic possibility given the practicalities of human nature, legitimate conflicts of interest, and competition for resources. Too often in Chomsky’s writing, “justice” simply means the triumph of the oppressed over the oppressor, as if the mere circumstance of victimhood is sufficient to confer virtue. But victimhood is rarely so simple. In most international contexts, who’s on top at a given moment is a circumstance of recent history, and seen in the fullness of time, it is not possible to claim that any side in a dispute is without moral blemish.
Chomsky’s treatment of history is almost always the weakest part of his argument. When he considers it at all, his reading is so selective and biased as to be entirely untrustworthy, designed to manipulate the reader into sympathy with Chomsky’s own predetermined sentiments (I wish I could cite examples of this – for they are numerous – but I traded in my Chomsky books a long time ago). This is not only rhetorically dishonest, it propounds a deeply false vision of human events. Chomsky at his worst is like the sports referee who steps in to stop a fight but always punishes only the player who threw the hardest punch while excusing the one who may have started the fight. Even people who don’t like violence eventually get fed up with the poverty of this approach.
This goes to what I believe is Chomsky’s basic belief: that equality is the highest measure of morality. Absent equality, or some theoretical sort of inequality that can arise without the use of violence and oppression, victims are always morally entitled to the total fulfillment of their claims, whether they be for land, power, resources or respect, regardless of historical conditions. Since victims are always right, any actions taken by victims in pursuit of their interests are morally justified, whereas actions taken by the powerful to protect their own interests are always blameworthy. And since America is the epitome of power, in this paradigm, it is always the epitome of injustice.
It’s unfortunate that Chomsky is right about American injustice so often, but I don’t accept his basic premise that American power is itself the problem. Nor do I believe that victims should be accorded any special moral status because of their circumstances. In fact, I think you could argue that Chomsky’s vulgar dualism actually deprives victims of their full human status as moral agents by denying them the same critical assessment of their goals and behavior as Chomsky applies routinely, and exceptionally vigorously, to their alleged oppressors.
Hardly any example of this is more telling than Chomsky’s perfunctory condemnation of the 9/11 terrorists in the context of his sweeping critique of American policy toward the Middle East and South Asia. Christopher Hitchens, either just before or just after he went round the bend, memorably argued that you don’t have to be a proponent of globalism and neo-colonialism to recognize the utter illiberalism, injustice, hysteria and oppressiveness at the heart of the Islamist political/religious program. But the possibility of anti-American insurgents, especially ones as well-organized, charismatic, and eloquently envictimed as Al Quada, actually representing something far, far worse than American power is alien to Chomsky’s whole paradigm.
That Chomsky’s framework has a hole in it as big as the Twin Towers should be a warning to would-be sympathizers. At the very least, it’s a politically-shaky platform on which to build a critique of Bush Administration policy, especially when so many avenues of legitimate criticism exist that don’t depend on the presumption of American illegitimacy (which is a position that most Americans don’t share).
But in my opinion, it goes right to the weakness at the heart of his worldview. America is by no means perfect and has often propagated injustice. Whatever our failings in practice – we are all flawed human beings, after all – I don’t believe we are fundamentally any more violent, greedy, self-interested or oppressive than any other people; moreover, almost uniquely in the world, we have the potential (occasionally realized) to be quite a bit better. Our system allows for tolerance, allows for pluralism, guarantees equal rights under the law without prejudice, enables economic mobility, and encourages intellectual exploration. There’s ample reason to be suspicious of our sincerity in propagating these ideals, both within America and beyond it’s borders. However, it’s way too strong to suggest, as Chomsky seems to do, that the ideals themselves are insincere, merely a pretext to the assertion of naked power.
I find it profoundly dishonest to condemn liberal American ideology as a mere front for American power on the one hand, but to excuse far worse behavior and ideology of “victims” on the other. I think it’s naïve, irresponsible and dangerously ignorant of historical precedent to suggest that the simple triumph of the oppressed over the oppressors in itself constitutes a moral outcome, without reference to the kind of society those ex-victims would establish once they’re in control. If the world is so simply reduced to power relationships, and all ideologies are just pretexts, from whence comes Chomsky’s own notions of justice and fairness, and his firm conviction in the sanctity of equality?
There’s a lot in Chomsky’s criticism of American policy that is worth paying attention to, and as a partisan for his own peculiar point of view, he’s quite effective and often compelling. Annoyingly, Chomsky’s supporters rarely accept such modest praise given to their prophet. It seems inconceivable to them that someone who so righteously (and rightly) condemns atrocity may nevertheless lack the moral authority on which to rest his critique. But there you are, and it’s why, despite the basic rightness of a lot of what Chomsky says, he’s an extremely problematic figure for principled liberals to embrace.
12:01:51 PM 
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