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Alison Edgley is Lecturer in Sociology of Health at Nottingham University and author of The Social and Political Thought of Noam Chomsky. She spoke to Robert McLaren about Chomsky's work, focusing in this part on his attitude to the role of theory, fact and human nature in political argument. Part 2 will follow shortly.
In your work on Noam Chomsky, you argue that he does produce political theories even though he claims that he does not. I wonder if you could explain your view and perhaps say how much you are disagreeing with Chomsky over what should be called a ‘theory’ and how much you are drawing out ideas (which are theories) that are latent in, or which lie behind, his political criticism.
I do not think it is possible to make neutral, theory-free observations in both the material and social realms. All such observations embody philosophical and theoretical assumptions. However, some observations are more readily verifiable than others, and so some theoretical claims are more intuitively acceptable than others. They appear ‘naturally’ true. When it comes to matters of human relations and society, there is a host of what amount to claims to knowledge, all of which will involve theoretical assumptions. While not all theories are verifiable, some come closer to satisfying the principles of verification than others. It is not a case that 'anything goes'. Even though our access to reality may be partial and constructed, some accounts can still be shown to be better than others. We are familiar with this principle in the physical sciences, where theories are regularly updated and replaced wholesale. This underscores the relevance of theories, as well as their partial and conditional character.
In his work, Chomsky employs recognisably theoretical perspectives, as well as bodies of values, assumptions about human nature and reality, claims, and conclusions which not only look like theories, but I argue are theories. A prevalent example is what I refer to as his theory of the state. This theory holds that states are not neutral bodies operating for the good of all citizens in that society. Rather, they systematically serve the interests of elites at the expense of many of their own citizens. Writ large, the theory also leads to the claim that western states operate at the expense of large numbers of humanity beyond their own borders and citizens. There is plenty of evidence both now and historically to verify the claims produced by this theory, and to demonstrate that this theory has predictive validity and thus superiority over its competitor theory that the state is a neutral body in regard to its citizens.
At one level I do not think Chomsky would disagree that his claims embody theory. Indeed in interviews he is often invited to offer theoretical or philosophical justification for his claims. Yet he is also highly critical of much that passes for theory in the social and political science. In my view, he eschews an emphasis on theory because he is involved in a political project. He is less interested in winning a debate than in having a political effect that will serve those disempowered by state capitalism. He is interested in exposing the lies of elites, by offering an alternative account for the historical record, rather than becoming embroiled in what he might see as merely esoteric philosophical discussions about theory.
Does that mean that his theoretical account is latent? I think implicit may be a better term, although there is plenty of explicit data in his works too. He has a distinctive theory of human nature, and his statements, assumptions and conclusions about human need and social organisation are to be found in all of his voluminous works. My work situated him in relation to other thinkers, critics and self-identified social and political theorists. Also, I assembled a theoretical framework out of the elements which emerge from his consistent and principled focus on 'the facts', and analysed that framework in relation to other theories about such things.
Instead of working from theories Chomsky claims to be concerned with 'the facts' - often 'facts' which the objects of his criticism 'must be aware of'. These claims, when made in the course of Chomsky's arguments, might be seen as merely a rhetorical device. However your work suggests such language and claims have a deeper significance to Chomsky's method and project, could you explain?
This is an excellent question in that it identifies a linguistic or argumentative practice of Chomsky’s – one that persuades some and infuriates others. I do think that Chomsky's focus on ‘the facts’ (always based on public documentation, not his research claims) can obscure understanding, in part because facts are notoriously slippery and in part because without exposure of some theoretical assumptions commentators can just end up talking past one another. His work with Edward Herman on the propaganda model of the media was distinctive in this respect.
Having said this Chomsky is careful to explain his choice, or method regarding his use of facts. So when he is demonstrating the lack of consistency between what his government says it will do and what it actually does he refers to what the government said, and what data it produced. Using the government's own evidence is a strategy. It helps him more powerfully to expose what he sees as the lies. By contrast, when he wants to illustrate the media's hysteria or silence on an event, he chooses to compare the coverage of the same event in another country, on the grounds that this will be more instructive and illuminating.
Like his reluctance to be drawn on theory, I think his focus on the facts is a product of his commitment to a political project for change. While we could get into a debate about whether poverty is a product of lifestyle or political economy, the weight of evidence to suggest that political and economic activity is organised and regulated overwhelmingly in the interests of the powerful and wealthy is too compelling to dignify the debate, in his view. That others do not accept this reading of the evidence, because it transgresses their belief in a just and neutral state, he regards as their problem, not his.
Some of Chomsky’s normative commitments are justified by him on the grounds that they are truisms – hypocrisy is wrong, violence requires justification etc. But you show that some of these commitments – or perhaps all of them to some degree - are based upon an explicitly stated view of human nature; a view which, far from being presented as obvious, is presented as likely unverifiable. How do you view the role of Chomsky's conception of human nature in his work, particularly its role in the normative element of his work?
I think Chomsky's view of human nature is essential to understanding his position on social and political affairs and normative claims, for a number of reasons. His view on humans is readily available, and is consistently held. Furthermore, it is one of the strengths of his position that he does not claim to be right about his view. There is an intellectual integrity about the way that he states his position which is lacking in some of his critics on this point. Fundamentally, he is making the point that we can gather enough compelling and verifying evidence to satisfy a high level of confidence in a firm theoretical position for some things, but not in all things, and, in his view, never as far as human nature is concerned.
His view of human nature is crucial to all that he writes and says. It informs both his critique of existing society and his vision for the good society. As he says, if you advocate effecting some social change, you must be advocating it on the grounds that it would better serve us as human beings, whether or not you say it loud and often. So in contemporary western neo-liberal society, there is a great deal of rhetoric about the individual freedom to choose. Whatever your political position, he regards it as a logical necessity that, if you press for change to improve freedom, you must be doing so because you think that freedom is good for human beings. In effect, he is pointing out that he and his adversaries alike deploy a view of human nature. In Chomsky's account of human nature, freedom is not an abstract quality or right, but a condition which can serve the human capacity for creativity. For Chomsky, it is more compelling to believe that our natures are creative and thus require conditions of freedom than the liberal belief that humans require conditions of freedom because they will best serve the pursuit of their self-interest. If we are creative beings, then we will (naturally) seek human society and interdependence to stimulate our creative potential. It could be suggested that his work in linguistics provides some evidence for his theory that human creativity is a need, but he is reluctant to make this into a ‘scientific’ claim, because it is not possible to construct a test of these claims.
His theory of human nature also rests upon the notion that humans are wired for abduction. ‘Abduction’ refers to the human predisposition to construct theories about the social and natural world, theories for which we can devise tests, both for logical consistency and in relation to evidence. The irony here is patent. In denying that he is doing this, he appears to be denying his own humanity. Abduction is a process in which the mind forms hypotheses according to some rules and selects among them with reference to evidence from other factors. Peter Wilkin argues that Chomsky shares with scientific realists (an approach that methodologically brings together the natural and social sciences) a concern with locating the structures and mechanisms that can generate concrete outcomes or events. This means seeking an understanding of what must exist in order for a particular event or phenomenon to have occurred. This process requires logic, intuition and imagination to interpret the available empirical evidence and provide explanations for the problems facing us. With this foundation, humans must strive for the best interpretations to explain of social and political events. From this perspective, it appears that Chomsky spends his time doing just this kind of abductive work, trying to make sense of the available evidence, in relation to the state, and especially US foreign policy.
While Chomsky is clear that any and all analysis of social and political affairs must rest upon a view of human need, he also feels it is highly unlikely that we will ever be able to verify his or any account of human nature. In his view, too much about human need and human nature remains uncertain. Just as the rat in the maze is only wired to achieve a certain level of knowledge, humans are likely to remain a mystery to themselves. It is for this reason that Chomsky is so critical of much that passes for social and political ‘science’. He is suggesting, and modelling, a great deal of humility about what can be claimed about humans, at the same time as being very robust about the need for much more acknowledgement of the assumptions guiding research and policy alike.
Chomsky, while acknowledging that he cannot verify his view of human nature, is not daunted by the sheer difficulty of working in the realm of the ‘difficult sciences’ (social sciences, in other words). He calls forth what he senses is another aspect of human nature, the capacity to hope. Hope seems a reasonable bet: if you assume there is an instinct for freedom, then he concludes, there will be opportunities to change things and make a better world. If you assume there is no hope, you guarantee that there is no hope. He chooses hope.
In contrast to Chomsky's views on theory he seems quite happy to identify with political traditions. Could you discuss Chomsky's anarchism/libertarian-socialism and his relationship to the liberal and Marxist traditions?
Classic liberal thinking developed as an attack on the power conferred through monarchy and feudal hierarchy. Marxism developed as an attack on the power conferred through concentrations of capital through capitalism. Chomsky draws from both traditions, because he is of the view that humans require both freedom and material well-being in order to be able to flourish, and that you cannot have one without the other. He parts company with neo-liberals who use liberal ideals to defend capitalism and he is critical of Marxists who treat the state as a necessary vehicle for bringing about socialism. His view of human nature belongs with the radical tradition populated by Rousseau and Marx, but also, crucially, anarchist thinkers, and it is in this way that he has a distinctive view. He eschews the liberal idea that humans want freedom to be autonomous from one another, arguing instead that our creativity would lead to cooperative interdependence. He is also critical of the interpretation of Marxist thought which regards human as completely malleable and constructible. Indeed he is of the view that, as humans, we differ markedly in our capacities and interests, and that we do so should be a source of joy and something that our forms of social and political organization should support and nurture.
Alison Edgley is Lecturer in Sociology of Health at Nottingham University and author of The Social and Political Thought of Noam Chomsky. She spoke to Robert McLaren about Chomsky's work, focusing in this part on his relationship to contemporary social and political science. Part One, in which she discusses Chomsky's attitude to the role of theory, fact and human nature in political argument, is here.
Chomsky appears skeptical of Marxist theory but mostly for being theory. In your book you set Chomsky’s theories in the context of other social scientific theories and many of these are Marxist – e.g. Bob Jessop’s and Ralph Miliband’s theories of the state. I wonder if you think this allows us to see Chomsky's relationship to contemporary Marxist social science more clearly and what you think that relationship is.
I think Chomsky is skeptical of Marxist theory, in part because of the focus on theory, but also because I do think some distinctive principles underpin Chomsky's analysis of social and political affairs. For example in Marxism the economy is foundational and the form the state takes is a reflection of, or is determined by the economy and historical materialism. Chomsky argues that capitalism could never have survived without the state. The state is the institution responsible for the survival of capitalism. At first blush, this seems to equate with Marx’s view of the state, as the representation of the interests of the bourgeoisie. For Chomsky, the key problem is not capitalism, but the state. Without it, capitalism would wither away. By contrast, Marx thought the state was the structure most suited to bring about the transition from capitalism to socialism, and only then would it be possible for the state to wither away. History suggests Marxism was wrong on this. When Chomksy looks at the evidence, he is far from alone in thinking that Marx got this wrong.
For Chomsky, liberty and some form of material equality are treated as synonymous or interdependent concepts. That classic liberal thought did not address the issue of material equality is, in Chomsky’s view, a result of the particular historical moment in which these ideas were born. They were a product of an age when feudal hierarchy and monarchical despotism were being questioned and attacked. These ideals were not extended to an attack on the inegalitarian development of property relations under capitalism, which are also powerful in their ability to constrain liberty and freedom, because this had not yet become a feature of the society which produced such ideas. Using Humboldt as an exemplar of classic liberal thought, he argues that his ideas in the 1790’s are profoundly, though prematurely, anti-capitalist. In Chomsky’s view, these liberal enlightenment ideas must be distorted beyond recognition to become an ideological defence of industrial capitalism.
His theory of the state is important because he is not interested in reifying social structures. Rather, Chomsky reminds us that things could be different. That they are not is because powerful elites construct things in order to serve their interests and then develop ideologies to justify those interests. This dual activity enables them to believe their own lies, and avoid for the most part the discomfort of cognitive dissonance. Chomsky reminds us that we too collude in this state of affairs when we are not opposing the status quo. Academics in particular have a privileged position and should be using this privilege to critique authority, not defend ideological interpretations while acquiring status in doing so.
Chomsky does have a different starting point from contemporary Marxist social science, and I did feel that drawing out those distinctions would enable us to see Chomsky's contribution more clearly.
I wonder if you could talk a bit about the secondary literature on Chomsky. In the last ten to fifteen years there seems to have been an increase in the rate of research and a move away from introductory texts to critical commentary. How far does it make sense to talk of a field of (political) ‘Chomsky studies’? And what are some things you hope to achieve in your work in the area?
There does seem to be a growth in interest in Chomsky's work in the last ten years. I was at university during the collapse of the Berlin wall, and when I finished my MA in political sociology, my father gave me Deterring Democracy. I had spent four years studying social science and Chomsky had not been on a single reading list. I left my Masters having read a lot of Marx and Marxism, but was disorientated by the post-modern critique of foundationalism. I saw the critique had power and that the left was to some extent in disarray, but I was unhappy with the notion that 'anything goes'. I was delighted to read someone still writing with such clarity and authority on matters of power and social justice, matters that I thought were important. I wanted to understand how he did this. What surprised me further, when I started to look into this, is that although some commentators referred to Chomsky’s work, they only did so in order to dismiss it, and in so doing they caricatured his position and attributed claims to him that he was not making. It became clear to me that they had not read him in any depth.
Where I think some of the misunderstanding comes is that the focus and emphasis of analysis will depend upon the question one is asking. So for example, in Chomsky’s analysis of the media's biased reporting, he compared their hysterical reaction to Pol Pot with their silence on atrocities in East Timor. He showed how numbers of deaths at the hands of Pol Pot were exaggerated without evidence, whereas similar atrocities in East Timor passed with little or no interest in the western media. His critics, among them Steven Lukes, accused him of thereby defending Pol Pot’s crimes. But if you read Chomsky's work properly, he states that at the time no one knew the extent of Pol Pot’s crimes. The question at the time for Chomsky was what interests are being served by the claims being made of Pol Pot? Not, is Pol Pot a ruthless dictator? The latter, for Chomsky, was a given. He has always been concerned with ruthlessness, wherever it occurs, not with the person that the media and powerful states hold nominally responsible.
Twenty five years on, I notice the burgeoning evidence of continuing and growing national and international inequalities, together with a fatigue for the postmodern position. This is not what was promised by liberal and neo-liberal ideologies, and certainly not by the political elites who subscribed to their policy prescriptions. I notice, too, that the evidence keeps stacking up behind the kinds of critiques that Chomsky has continued to produce. It does not surprise me that some commentators are taking a closer look at the work of someone who continues to say that state capitalism, dominated as it is by powerful elites, is a wholly inadequate system for overcoming the growing problems of political and economic inequality.
Does this mean there could be a field of Chomsky studies? I suspect Chomsky himself would find this distasteful because he is generally opposed to 'isms', believing instead that the work of the intellectual is to expose the lies of government. Indeed he has said of himself that he is simply a fellow-traveller. In other words, Chomsky is a practitioner not of Chomskyism but of sound principles of social science research, grounded in the perspective of a positive view of human nature, a particular theory of the state and a personal commitment to truth-telling in politics. He is not someone to lead a field of study, or be its principal object of research, in other words. Instead, Chomsky models an intellectual approach in a highly moral manner, based on his view of the meaning of intellectual integrity.
I think a field of libertarian socialist studies that focused on offering a counter-analysis of political and economic affairs from mainstream hegemonic accounts for the historical record would be a more productive approach. The problem with identifying an analysis of social and political affairs with the theory and approach of an individual, is that yet another intellectual elite ends up debating and arguing about whose analysis is more faithful, rather than studying real events for the purposes of bringing about social and political change.
One interesting recent commentary on Chomsky's writing in international politics is Mark Laffey’s idea that Chomsky is what he calls a ‘Left Realist’; someone who sees western states neither as promoting liberal values nor as advancing a genuinely ‘national interest’ but as advancing the interests of those who wield domestic power. Ronald Osborn has expanded upon Laffey’s idea; working out Chomsky's relationship with the Realist tradition. In your book you show that Chomsky cannot be seen as a (traditional) Realist, in particular because he does not see the state as acting to ensure security or as being quite as independent from society as Realists do. I wonder if you could share your thoughts on the reading of Chomsky as a ‘Left Realist’ and/or on Chomsky's theory of international relations more generally.
I do think Laffey's view that Chomsky is a left realist is valuable. Peter Wilkin, writing about Chomsky in the nineties, argued that philosophically Chomsky's position is critical realist. From this epistemological position it means there is a ‘reality’ out there to be known and that while our ability to access this reality will be mediated by our social constructions of that reality, some accounts will be more real than others, particularly if they acknowledge that institutional and regulatory power is conferred upon some more at the expense of others. As such then, the state is an institutional body that has actual power, whether or not that power is activated. Analysis of events from a critical realist, or left realist perspective, can expose when and how that power is activated, in whose interest, and at what cost.
Critical realism makes the important distinctions between the empirical, the actual and the real. The empirical is a concern with that which is observable. Empiricists look for patterns and regularities but do not ask whether the objects under observation may have structures, powers or qualities that are unobservable. To explore the real is to ask about the structure of some objects as well as their causal powers, whether or not these causal powers are exercised. So both minerals and state bureaucracies have certain structures and causal powers. The actual is concerned with what happens if and when those powers are activated. Realists seek to identify both necessity and possibility or potential in the world and then ask what things must go together, and what could happen, given the nature of those objects. Because we may not be able to observe all aspects of the structures and powers of an object, unobservable entities can be said to be present by reference to observable effects. This means that the nature of the real object may constrain or enable what can happen. To identify the real nature of an object is not however to say that this then pre-determines what will happen.
Chomsky compares political rhetoric with policy outcomes or the empirical. His analysis of state power or the actual is derived from this comparison, and he offers his account as more real than that offered by the rhetoric of politicians and many academics.
Given Chomsky's view of the media and the intelligentsia as excluding radical criticism it is tempting to explain his own outsider status purely in terms of the radicalism of his politics. However, there are radicals in academia, including those who, unlike Chomsky, publish their radical work as their academic research. How do you see Chomsky's particular relationship with academia and with the political science and International relations community specifically?
Chomsky’s day job, so to speak, was in philosophy and linguistics. In this sense he was not institutionally required to have a relationship with the political science and international relations community in the way that someone employed within that community would. It is also true that these communities have systematically neglected or misrepresented his contributions to their field. Having said this I suspect that it has also suited Chomsky to remain an outsider to the academy, because he is more easily able to avoid what does not interest him, or would distract him, such as debates about theory. He has chosen to put his energy for this field solely into a critique of government and elite activity. In this sense he is as much of an academic specialist as any other person dedicated to ploughing a single furrow. Chomsky also chooses to give his time to those engaged in political activism and to this end Chomsky is very much an insider. He has connections with thousands of people throughout the world who are fighting for basic access to food, decent shelter and clean water as well as the futures of their children. He would rather spend his time supporting and working with a Latin American activist interested in defending the livelihoods of ordinary people than debating ideas within the academy. While Chomsky has had harsh words to say about the hypocrisy of some in the academy he sees as complicit in elite abuses of power and knowledge, that is not the same as decrying all of those who choose, as he does, to work within the academy, when those choices and purposes are made openly and with integrity.
Robert McLaren is an undergraduate student at King's College London, reading Philosophy. Front page photograph by Andrew Rusk.
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