DECONSTRUCTING CHOMSKY
DAVID
SOLWAY
David
Solway is a Canadian poet and essayist (Random Walks)
and author of The Big Lie: On Terror, Antisemitism, and
Identity. His editorials appear regularly in FRONTPAGEMAG.COM
and Pajamas
Media. He
speaks about his latest book, Hear,
O Israel! (Mantua Books), at frontpage.com.
Those
who regard Noam Chomsky as one of the world’s premier
thinkers might be advised to reconsider. It is, of course, mainly
his political writings that have earned him his current reputation
for crusading fearlessness, uncompromising candor, and lacerating
intelligence. That they consist largely of cant and drivel erected
on a foundation of dishonesty escapes his acolytes’ attention
completely, likely because he speaks to their prejudices and
because they have not done their homework. And possibly because
they are influenced by the New York Times, which beatifies
Chomsky as “arguably the most important intellectual alive.”
But then, that’s the Times, for which the provision
of evidence was never a desideratum.“What can be asserted
without evidence can be dismissed without evidence,” to
quote Christopher Hitchens’ aphorism on the beatification
of Mother Teresa, whom he regards as “a fanatic, a fundamentalist,
and a fraud” — epithets which would more aptly apply
to Chomsky. I will, however, provide evidence for my dismissal
of Chomsky as a world-class quack, as did Hitchens with Mother
Teresa in his devil’s advocate volume on the saintly imposter.
As
I’ve written before, Chomsky’s dishonesty is palpable.
He rages furiously and sanctimoniously against the U.S. “war
machine,” but as Peter Schweizer reveals in Do As
I Say (Not As I Do): Profiles in Liberal Hypocrisy, Chomsky
wrote his world-famous Syntactic Structures on grants from the
American military establishment. America is, for Chomsky, “the
land of Pentagon contracts, lucrative real estate holdings,
stock market wealth, and a tax-sheltered trust for his children.”
Yet, despite his fierce denunciations, he squats there like
an orb spider, his web sagging with the weight of juicy flies.
He makes disingenuous millionaire Michael Moore look like a
small-time piker.
As
for his political ravings, the sheer nonsense of most of his
claims is outstripped only by the abyssal gullibility of his
auditors and readers, who do not realize that Chomsky is a contaminated
witness. “It would be easy to demonstrate,” writes
David Horowitz in an article titled “The Sick Mind of
Noam Chomsky,” “how on every page of every book
and in every statement that Chomsky has written, the facts are
twisted, the political context is distorted (and often inverted)
and the historical record is systematically traduced,”
expressing “a pathological hatred of his own country.”
A recent book has accomplished precisely such a demonstration.
Chomsky’s doctoring of sources, dubious or obscure references,
misquotations, convenient abridgments, significant omissions
and gross misinterpretations have been abundantly documented
in The Anti-Chomsky Reader, a volume which should be
consulted by those who are still impressed by Chomsky’s
glowing nimbus and public prominence as a “libertarian
socialist.”
Noted
jurist and author Richard Posner concurs with the book’s
findings. In his Public Intellectuals: A Study of Decline,
Posner writes that Chomsky’s tone and one-sidedness is
“all too typical” of his oeuvre. “Chomsky’s
use of sources is uncritical, and his methodology unsatisfactory
— it consists simply of changing the subject.” Nor
does Chomsky feel obliged to defend his assertions no matter
how outrageous or tendentious since “[h]e never acknowledges
error.” Chomsky appears to regard himself as a political
sage, perhaps even a prophet, whose insights cannot be questioned
and whose pronouncements are infallible. One recalls his confident
prediction to an MIT audience in a lecture of October 18, 2001,
scarcely a month after 9/11, that the U.S. was preparing a “silent
genocide” against Afghanistan, planning “to murder
three or four million people.” This should tell us all
we need to know about his powers of divination.
According
to Thomas Sowell in Intellectuals and Society, Chomsky
is one of those public intellectuals who has ranged “beyond
the confines of his specialty” and made “inflammatory
comments on things for which he had no qualifications.”
But the shabby scholarship alone, evident both in the pulpiteering
style and the abject referencing, as well as the apodictic claptrap
he purveys, should have set off alarm bells for responsible
readers and prompted them to do a bit of supplementary research.
If they had, they would have realized that Chomsky is so far
off the wall he makes Humpty Dumpty look like a paragon of stability.
It
would be no less instructive to leave the politics aside for
the nonce and go back to his earlier technical writings in the
field of psycholinguistics that established his reputation in
the first place. As Posner says, “a successful academic
may be able to use his success to reach the general public on
matters about which he is an idiot.” But it goes deeper
than that. If Chomsky’s reasoning is flawed or tenuous
or 'unprovable' in his scholarly work, which was considered
seminal and yielded whole university disciplines, then it may
well be, by extrapolation, that his reasoning is equally suspect
in his other endeavors. It won’t do to read only books
like Hopes and Prospects, Failed States, or Hegemony
or Survival, the latter praised by the ruthless despot
Hugo Chavez. I have in mind books like Syntactic Structures,
Aspects of the Theory of Syntax, and his somewhat later
The Minimalist Program, which loyal Chomskyites should
look into if they really wish to honor their master and justify
their professions of regard. They should read the “scholarship,”
not the propaganda, to determine if their hero merits his acclaim.
I must
apologize in advance for a brief and regrettably superficial
excursion into the technical realm of linguistics. I don’t
have the space here to hack my way any great distance into it
and I don’t want to try my reader’s patience any
more than I have to. There may be some consolation to be found
in that I avoid the really turgid, off-putting stuff that can
drive even the most dedicated student into the nether regions
of terminal despair. But some peripheral remarks are in order
if we are serious in trying to figure out how Chomsky’s
mind works. Chomsky, as we will see, is essentially an intellectual
tyrant. He does not give clear and indisputable evidence when
developing a thesis; he 'dictates.' And he subsequently expects
us to 'believe.'
Chomsky
starts us off with his definition of a language: “Language
is a set (finite or infinite) of sentences, each finite in length,
and constructed out of a finite set of elements.” The
sentence itself comprises a noun phrase followed by a verb phrase.
Perhaps he should have stopped there. For he goes on to elaborate
a complex “phrase-structure grammar” which he diagrams
as a tangled forest filled with inverted trees whose branches
consist of various parts of speech fit for a tribe of swinging
monkeys. The name of this jungle is “Transformational
Grammar.” It purports to map what Chomsky calls the “deep
structure,” “underlying strings,” and “recursive
properties” common to all the world’s languages
and innate to all the world’s speakers. These features
are supposed to provide for an economy of grammatical rules
that prescribe the convoluted operations by which coherent sentences
are constructed. His wielding of Ockham’s Razor, however,
seems to produce a lot of unnecessary bleeding and more stubble
than is desired. As Judith Greene points out in Psycholinguistics:
Chomsky and Psychology, the ramification of syntactic rules
in the mind of the individual speaker would “start generating
strings at random [and] would obviously be wildly uneconomical.”
Moreover,
his theories keep changing — though one would assume reality
does not. Aspects of the Theory of Syntax significantly
emends the earlier Syntactic Structures. He later went
on to revise his ideas even further, jettisoning deep structure
and postulating a “universal grammar” deriving from
“simple” computational laws — hence The
Minimalist Program — which do nothing to pollard
his earlier arboreal speculations. Indeed, deep structure keeps
its place in the popular domain as Chomsky’s chief contribution
to the psychology of language.
When
he tells us that the branches of a phrase structure, unlike
the links of a word-chain device, act like a kind of blueprint
for the finished sentence, we have to take it on his authority.
Similarly, what is called a “finite-state grammar,”
to quote Steven Pinker in his explication of Chomsky in The
Language Instinct, “is just one damn word after another,
but with a phrase-structure grammar the connectedness of words
in the tree reflects the relatedness of ideas in mentalese.”
Really? A formulation of this nature is actually a dictum, and
though a hierarchical tree diagram may seem convincing, the
map is not the territory. It may not be that way in reality.
What
we get in Chomsky is more like a description of what might be
or should be the case, but not an explanation of what manifestly
is the case. The diagrams function in a certain way; therefore
the things they are diagrams of must also behave in the same
way. Because the branches of his tree drawings describe arches
and parabolas under which the various phrasal segments of a
sentence are combined, it must follow that long-distance dependencies
are plainly accounted for, that is, that the sentence “remembers”
later what came before in the deep structure to produce grammatical
agreement among its terms. It’s a nice idea and the term
“deep structure” continues to resonate. (Ringing
phrases can lead to the belief in entirely phony constructs
— think of “Oedipus Complex” and “The
dictatorship of the proletariat.”) The trouble is that
the term refers exclusively to the idea; neither is confirmable
by data gleaned from outside the magic circle. They indicate
a hypothesis, not a fact.
In
the same way, we are told that parts of speech are not a kind
of meaning but, let’s say, they are like Lego pieces that
fit one another in prefabricated ways. A given part of speech,
for example, a noun, is simply like an item in a menu that must
obey certain sequences. Similarly, certain verbs may enter a
phrase structure lawfully only by conforming to modular rules
or obeying certain formal parameters. But these operational
procedures can surely be replaced by the 'meaning of the word
itself' (or what this school of thought rather pompously calls
the “semantic component”). One can argue that a
transitive verb requires an object or an embedded sentence,
not because it is following a nexus of prior and invisible rules,
but because the sense of the verb 'in itself' requires that
you 'complete the potential' or specify the general meaning
of the verb in its dictionary acceptation.
In
Aspects of a Theory of Syntax, Chomsky tries to get
around the dilemma by adding a new constellation of base rules,
called a “lexicon,” that would somehow allot meanings
to words and sentences. It simply won’t wash — one
doesn’t repair a theoretical lesion by simply inventing
a prosthesis and tacking it on. Syntax — the order of
words — allows us to interpret the overall meaning of
a sentence but 'it cannot output definitions', without which
syntax is perfectly helpless and contentless. Analogously, in
The Minimalist Program, Chomsky plucks out of thin
air a faculty he labels a “parser,” which “assigns
a percept to a signal” and which, mirabile dictu,
“presumably incorporates the language and much else.”
Such maneuvers are plainly illicit and imply, rather, that neither
deep structures nor a universal grammar could possibly contain
all the information necessary for the semantic interpretation
of a sentence.
No
less troubling, the notion of Universal Grammar may be correct
in the trivial sense that every language has a grammar and is
learnable, but whether Chomsky’s scaffolding of rules
and “parameters” would apply to all the world’s
languages, for instance, Mandarin or Hausa or Barikanchi or
Hopi or Nootka (the latter, according to Benjamin Lee Whorf
in Language, Thought and Reality, has no parts of speech),
is another question entirely. Many scholars are profoundly skeptical
whether Chomsky’s enunciations apply across the board
'even to English' and some have furnished strong evidence that
they do not. (See, for example, Peter Seuren’s Western
Linguistics).
As
Raymond Tallis writes in Not Saussure: “Chomsky’s
methodological tactic of treating language as primarily a syntactic
structure has led linguistics to an impasse.” The central
problem that Chomsky has failed to address is that a “context-based
intuition of the speaker’s intentions is necessary
not only to determine the meaning but also the grammatical structure
of what has been said” (emphasis added). Tallis’
reasoning is at least as persuasive as Chomsky’s —
but Tallis has not undertaken to found an academic discipline
or create a dendritical pseudo-science.
Tallis’
allusion to “context-based intuition” strikes very
much to the heart of the matter, especially when we consider
that Chomsky does not adequately distinguish a sentence from
an utterance. “The fundamental aim of the linguistic analysis
of a language L,” he writes in Syntactic Structures,
“is to separate the 'grammatical' sequences which are
the sentences of L from the 'ungrammatical' sequences which
are not sentences of L and to study the structure of the grammatical
sequences.” Syntactic competence, he states, is reflected
in “performance”; unfortunately, not all performances
would satisfy the criteria he assembles.
Consequently,
when he tells us in The Minimalist Program that language
is “embedded in performance systems, which access the
generative procedure,” he only muddies the waters. For
the fact is that people do not speak in sentences and their
verbal expressions are often quite perceptibly ungrammatical.
Yet the strings of words, gaps, ill-formed sequences, missing
suffixes, disheveled syntax, wrong auxiliaries, morphological
aberrations, and improper formations in everyday speech are
readily comprehensible. Context, and intuition gained from experience,
appear to do the work. As former president of the American Psychological
Association, the late Charles Osgood, commented in his Lectures
on Language Performance, “the situational conditions
to which [speakers] are responding are perceptual and cognitive
rather than linguistic.” This at least makes sense.
I have
merely skimmed the surface but readers who are unfamiliar with
Chomsky’s modus operandi can plunge into his
scholarly texts for themselves. What they will discover is that
Transformational Grammar (no more than Universal Grammar) gives
us not an explanation of how language works but a bundle of
descriptions of formal and diagrammatic processes accompanied
by a glossary of definitions and reams of alphabetic formulae.
'What is explained is the description, not the thing it is a
description of.' To use Chomsky’s own terminology, but
in a manner he did not intend, his theories enjoy a kind of
“descriptive adequacy,” which boomerang back on
themselves; their “explanatory adequacy” applies
to the description as — at best — a conceivable
but not necessarily an actual mechanism for generating an infinite
set of grammatical sentences.
In
Aspects of the Theory of Syntax, for example, Chomsky lays
it down that “a system of rules that in some explicit
and well-defined way assigns structural descriptions to sentences”
is grounded in “mental processes that are far beyond the
level of actual or even potential consciousness.” And
here is the predicament. Chomsky’s “system”
is, in many respects, pretty well incoherent, but even if it
happened to be 'coherent,' there is still no way of determining
that it would be 'valid' or that these mental processes demonstrably
exist. Put succinctly, Chomskyan psycholinguistics is not a
science, but an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine that mobilizes
enormous resources to get very little done. Nevertheless, many
of us are seduced by an intricately latticed diction and dazzled
into submission by indomitable complexity.
Far
more importantly — and the point of my reconnaissance
— is that the mind that is at work postulating a theory
of generative grammar is the same mind that is busy expounding
an ideological program of anti-capitalist, anti-American, and
anti-Israeli doctrine, that excuses the Soviet Union for invading
Afghanistan and is sympathetic to totalitarian North Korea,
that supports Latin American and Islamic autocrats, that can
defend a mass murderer like Pol Pot, a Holocaust denier like
Robert Faurisson, and a terrorist like Hassan Nasrallah, and
that can argue that George Bush’s “crimes vastly
exceed bin Laden’s.” 'And it can do so because it
is not bound by the rules of testability.'
Thus,
Chomsky’s linguistic theories violate Karl Popper’s
famous rule that a scientific proposition — or in the
present instance, 'categorical statements pretending to be scientific
propositions' — must be susceptible to falsifiability.
The genuine scientist or researcher accepts this axiom as incontestable,
but Chomsky does not. He is always right. Similarly, Chomsky
gives us a thematic system of political denunciation of his
chosen black sheep, rooted tree-like in his private mental processes
and passed off as structurally well-founded, but devoid of rules,
and certainly of the inclination, for testing its validity.
True,
sociopolitics is not psycholinguistics in so far as “experimentation”
is clearly possible in the former. No matter. The upshot is
the same. The experiment that would be required to justify his
political assertions is either not conducted or its results
are pre-cooked. Chomsky is guilty of a variant of that intellectual
defect Aristotle in the Metaphysics called apaideusis,
the failure “to distinguish between that which requires
demonstration or proof and that which does not” —
i.e., from Chomsky’s perspective.
This
is, so to speak, the nature of Chomsky’s “mentalese,”
which does not explain anything in the real world but merely
describes what Chomsky is already convinced must be the case,
as if, in Robert Wargas’s pungent simile, his depositions
are “like pulling the lever on a rigged slot machine.”
Cloning his psycholinguistic procedures, what is “explained”
is not the social, political, and economic world but Chomsky’s
own fabulations, his “bizarro-world, fun-house, mirror
version of reality,” as John Hawkins puts it. In short,
'the explanation is nothing but a description.' Admittedly,
the description is powerful and is obviously capable of “generating”
assent. Yet this does not make it anything more than a portrayal
of an 'apparently' systematic way of observing language or the
world, a vast tautology devoid of 'verifiable evidence' to substantiate
its presumably objective claims.
As
Zachary Hughes writes in Camera (Committee for Accuracy
in Middle East Reporting), “Chomsky has used the influence
granted him as a prominent linguist to support militant organizations
and murderous dictatorships…while implicating those he
perpetually paints as the guilty parties — the United
States and Israel.” In doing so, Chomsky diverts us with
a richly colored map but without the slightest proof that it
corresponds to anything in the topography of the real world.
It corresponds only to the template in Chomsky’s head.
His “philosophy” can be tersely summarized as ipse
dixit.
I would
suggest, then, that his dogmatic approach to psycholinguistics
is mirrored both in his tendency to issue “authoritative”
political proclamations and in his defense of dictatorial personalities
and regimes. Like to like. In other words, 'the thought process
that underlies his political books and lectures derives from
his theoretical writing, and both from a consistent habit of
mind.' It’s the same old Chomsky.
Reputable
linguists Paul Postal and Robert Levine, contributors to The
Anti-Chomsky Reader, take the same view. “[T]he two
strands of Chomsky’s work manifest exactly the same key
properties,” including “a deep disregard of, and
contempt for, the truth, a monumental disdain for standards
of inquiry, a relentless strain of self-promotion,” and
a penchant for abusing others. 'Chomsky is an absolutist in
his analytical specialty and naturally gravitates towards absolutists
in the geopolitical world.' Truth is what he determines it to
be. Contradictory facts are inadmissible in whatever court he
sees himself as presiding over. Evidence either does not count
or may be tampered with if it serves his purposes. As Randy
Harris, oddly enough a great admirer of Chomsky, writes in a
review of Robert Barsky’s hagiographic Noam Chomsky:
A Life of Dissent, “But there’s this problem.
Noam Chomsky lies.”
In
conclusion, it is only fair to admit that Chomsky is, in his
own warped fashion, undeniably brilliant — it takes brains
to invent a complex and reticulated discipline and mesmerize
generations of scholars. But brilliance alone, though necessary,
is not sufficient to create a truly viable and enduring account
of reality; other qualities, such as honesty, humility, self-doubt,
an eye for error, and a fastidious attention to the smallest
details, are obligatory. That is why Freud and Marx are no longer
considered as oracles, but Einstein is. Chomsky may be a “great
wit,” but we recall those famous lines from John Dryden’s
Absalom and Achitophel: “Great wits are sure
to madness near allied/And thin partitions do their bounds divide.”
Sadly, as often as not, the partitions come down and the “great
wit” finds himself on the other side of the cognitive
meridian. In Chomsky’s case, the diagnosis is inescapable.
The man is seriously meshuggah.
Ultimately,
there can be no rebutting that Chomsky, for all his weird, unanchored
giftedness, is not only an intellectual tyrant; he is an intellectual
charlatan, however compelling. He is, to go back to Hitchens,
the Mother Teresa of the secular domain. And those who hang
upon his words have sacrificed both their integrity and their
understanding.
COMMENTS
rrotondo@videotron.ca
brilliant article.
of course no educated reader takes chomsky all too seriously.
he is the master of philosophical dissumulation.
the charlatan par excellence
the quintessential sophist
if i, along with many others holding diametrically opposed
views, enjoy reading his chatter it’s
because behind his deceptive deconstructivism there is a always
a kernel of possible truth which, however small and doubtful,
is nonetheless big enough to have one pause if only for second
and put into question one's most strongly held convictions.
ficekrichard47@gmail.com
Unfortunately, a lot of accusations and name calling. I would
rather that Mr. Solway be more exact and specific in his charges.Chomsky
may be all those things that David Solways claims he is but
not as presented in this intemperate screed. More analysis
and facts; less rage please.
matt
To outrightly diss the entire Chomsky viewpoint is as foolish
as praising it. Chomsky is too intelligent and too complex
to be conveniently stereotyped. If you disagree with his arguments
in Manufacturing Dissent, then expose them, point
by point. If you disagree with his criticisms of the corporation
which he regards as criminal, then again, take him on one
point at a time. Solway fails to do this; his is more of a
mean-spirited rant than anything else.
Greg
Solway devotes most of this diatribe to doing exactly what
he criticizes Chomsky for: asserting without evidence, claiming
his assertions as facts, favouring abuse over analysis, and
failing to pay attention, let alone 'fastidious attention,'
to detail. I agree that Chomsky's discourse style is imperious
and polemical and that there are some basic flaws in his model
of language, but the same is clearly true of Solway; this
essay does not advance our understanding of Chomsky, nor of
politics or language.
kalashas2003@yahoo.ca
Since the author fails to prove what he claims is Chomsky's
fallacy, and considering his usual lampoonist style indulging
in his own fallacies, his real motivation might be elsewhere
in between the lines: His ethnic integrism.
user-submission@feedback.com to editor
A disappointing article, in tone and substance. OK, so you
don't like Chomsky, we get it. Like any academic, Chomsky
has put forward a theory and it is out there for others to
question and try to counter. This is the normal academic process.
He, like others, is trying to explain how language works,
a worthy and ongoing quest.
user-submission@feedback.com
Given that the author is an arch-conservative and a fiercely
right-wing Zionist who is incapable of seeing the brutality
of colonialist Israel, including the murderous theft of the
entire Palestinian homeland and the ethnic cleansing of the
Palestinian people, obviously Noam Chomsky is the enemy. Chomsky's
writing on politics is filled with facts (that's part of its
pleasure) and is everywhere fact-based. He has an astonishing
knowledge of contemporary history. This essay, on the other
hand, you will note, is almost fact-free. It calls Chomsky
a liar several times but doesn't give a single example. Read
Chomsky: he's brilliant, filled with relevant (& often
little known) facts, and has a superb analytic mind. He is
committed to humanity, to social justice, and is the enemy
of fascists, racists and bigots. Though raised in a Zionist
family (he learned Hebrew at a young age), he has no illusions
about colonialist Israel's Apatheid, expansionist, militarist
agenda. His good friend, the Jewish Israeli historian Ilan
Pappe, is the man to read about the horrors of the founding
of the Jewish State: Pappe's The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine
is a must read.
tyz228@gmail.com
I find your "deconstruction" of
Chomsky's linguistic theses quite puzzling, and, in places,
quite obscure. To begin with, leaving Chomsky out for the
nonce, there is a a well-known model in cognitive science
for thought processes in general which is modeled on Chomsky's
linguistic model. Often referred to as the Computational Representational
Theory of Thought, the model has it that thoughts involve
semantically evaluable components that have syntactic or formal
structure, and, crucially, that thought processes can, following
Turing's insight, be treated as formal computational processes
that operate independently of the semantic properties of the
represenations in their domains. Just as, eg., the formal
structure of modus ponens, "(if p, then q; p; therefore
q", can be implemented regardless of what specific sentences
"p" and "q" represent, thought processes
are viewed as operating on representations without regard
to the semantic values of those representations. That being
so, all of your comments about Chomsky ignoring semantics
seems question-begging at best. If our ability to produce
and comprehend sentences involves computing representations
of their structural properties and relationships which, though
they respect the semantic properties of constituents, operate
independently of those semantic properties, then Chomsky's
program is on the right track. What you need to refute him
is not the bare assertion that semantics and context have
to be involved, but a developed theory showing that they are.
Complaining about the tangled forest of representations begs
the question. The examples are legion, but just take one.
The infamous "garden path sentence": The horse raced
past the barn fell. Most people, including me, have to read
it at least twice, because at first glance it looks like there's
something wrong with it. "The horse raced past the barn"
is complete sentence, so what the heck is "fell"
doing at the end. It takes a re-reading to figure out that
"the horse raced past the barn" can also be a noun
phrase, ie., "the horse (which was) raced past the barn".
One way, not the only way, but one way, of understanding why
people have the problem processing this sentence that most
of us seem to have is by means of Chomsky's phrase structure
trees and assumptions of how the parser works. Phrase structure
trees are one way of representing the structural features
and dependencies in sentences, which words or phrases are
structural units ("the horse" vs "the horse
(which was) raced past the barn"), which in turn is important
because it's part of model of how the average speaker will
understand and use her language.
Chomsky's development of the lexicon, where the lexical
entries for particular words contain all of the relevant information
for introducing them into sentential representations, is not,
as you seem to describe it, a desperate attempt to avoid a
dilemma (I'm not at all clear what you take the two horns
of the dilemma to be), but, rather, a development aimed at
simplifying what sorts of things have to be imputed to the
"language faculty". The greater the detail of syntactic
information stored, as it were, in a lexical table entry,
the less complicated Chomsky was able to make the rules, and
the fewer "transformations" from one level of representation
to another he needed to introduce. Which, again, is the motive
behind his Minimalist Program, although to be honest, my familiarity
with Chomsky only went up to his Principles and Parameters/Government
and Binding phase. Minimalism has the simplest rules-move,
copy, delete...coupled with the a further enhancement of the
lexicon, to contain all the relevant information for actual
language items.
Complaining that Chomsky's model only tells us how something
might or ought to happen, but not how it does, ignores the
widespread use of idealizations throughout science. Mechanics
appeals to frictionless planes, chemistry appeals to ideally
pure samples (the water we drink is NOT H2O, it's H2O plus
a lot of other stuff). Fictionless planes and ideally pure
samples aren't found in nature. Why isn't their use by science
illegitimate? Because there are reasons for thinking that
what makes them strictly speaking false are due to noise,
to interference by inessential factors. It's always possible
that an idealization is wrong, but that's an empirical question.
Lastly, why on earth would it be a criticism that Chomsky's
theories keep changing? Look at the history of physics, or
psychology during the 20th century. In physics, the people
whose opinions refused to change, eg., Einstein, went from
being the heralds of a new age in science to being an embarassment
to younger generations of physicists who couldn't get him
to understand the consequences of his own work. Chomsky took
linguistics from a descriptive cataloguing to an explanatory
science. In the aftermath of his initial work, linguists all
over the world began applying his model to their language,
and have continued to apply it more and more exotic aboriginal
languages. The changes in Chomsky's theories seem to reflect
2 things: the general scientific impulse to greater simplicity
relative to a theoretical goal (for Chomsky, characterizing
the innate Language Faculty in a way that captures the facts
of child language acquisition), and the ever broadening and
deepening level of linguistic data coming from researchers
across the world.
I'm not claiming that I know Chomsky is correct. As became
evident to me from my professors, linguistics is a deep subject.
But it seems to me that your "deconstruction" misses
its target. As far as Chomsky's political views, I have no
comment. I find a lot of his claims baffling, his apparent
distortions of evidence worrying. But Bobby Fischer was a
world-class chess player, regardless of how nutty his political
opinions were.
Your conclusion reminds me of Bishop Samuel Clarke, who began
a work by saying "Only 2 sorts of people don't believe
in God; those who have never heard the arguments, and those
who have heard them, but have so corrupted themselves as to
be incapable of rational thought." You can try poisoning
the well, but smart people should realize that, unless you
(and I mean YOU) have a better linguistic theory on offer,
you're just admitting your own impotence.
By
David Solway:
Interview
- David Solway
The
Multiculti Tango
Utopiah:
Good Place or No Place
Palin
for President?
The
Madness of Reactive Politics
Liberty
or Tyranny
Shunning
Our Friends
A
Culture of Losers
Political
Correctness and the Sunset of American Power
Talking
Back to Talkbackers
Letting
Iran Go Nuclear
Robespierre
& Co.
The
Reign of Mediacracy
Into
the Heart of the United Nations
The
Big Lie
As
You Like It
Confronting
Islam
Unveiling
the Terrorist Mind