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Art and Literature: An Undefinable Influence
On occasion, Chomsky has suggested that the mysterious aspects of human existence and the limits of our knowledge are, in some ways, best explored in works of art. But he does not, like Adorno, Benjamin, Greenberg, or Hauser, seek within the domain of music, visual art, sculpture, or photography visions that offer, for example, alternatives to our present society: I seem to have a tin ear for atonal music, I'm afraid: past some Berg I mostly listen out of a sense of duty (I have some friends who are well-known composers, and I go to their concerts, for example). As for abstract art, my tastes also tend to fade out after cubism, mainly. Do I find "motivation, inspiration or philosophical truths" in any of this? As for motivation and inspiration, who knows, maybe unconsciously. As for philosophical truths, not as I understand the term at least (in fact, I'm not convinced that the category exists maybe my Wittgensteinian youth [is] showing). (8 Aug. 1994)There are, however, frequent references to literature in Chomsky's writings, and several intersections exist between his work and literary texts. First, Chomsky-inspired linguistics has been employed by some critics in formulating their approaches to literary texts, particularly in areas such as semiotics, structuralism, and narratology. Second, Chomsky's philosophical work on creativity and performance has been used to enhance or critique theoretical treatments of literary texts. Third, the popularity of particular authors or literary texts, and the degree of ease or difficulty with which an author publishes a particular work in a particular place and time, are taken by Chomsky as gauges of the control exerted over public expression and the institutions that channel it. Chomsky's many remarks on Orwell bear upon this issue. For example: If Orwell, instead of writing 1984 which was actually, in my opinion, his worst book, a kind of trivial caricature of the most totalitarian society in the world, which made him famous and everybody loved him, because it was the official enemy if instead of doing that easy and relatively unimportant thing, he had done the hard and important thing, namely talk about Orwell's problem . . . [how is it that we know so little given the amount of evidence we have], he would not be famous and honored: he would be hated and reviled and marginalized. ("Creation")Finally, Chomsky has suggested that literature can offer a far deeper insight into the whole human person than any mode of scientific inquiry. This notion is an interesting anomaly, given his fundamental belief in the power and value of pure sciences over social sciences. He nevertheless remains reticent about drawing "tight connections" between literature and knowledge because he can't really say whether literature has ever "changed [his] attitudes and understanding in any striking or crucial way":
[I]f I want to understand, let's say, the nature of China and its revolution, I ought to be cautious about literary renditions. Look, there's no question that as a child, when I read about China, this influenced my attitudes Rickshaw Boy, for example. That had a powerful effect when I read it. It was so long ago I don't remember a thing about it, except the impact. . . . Literature can heighten your imagination and insight and understanding, but it surely doesn't provide the evidence that you need to draw conclusions and substantiate conclusions. (Chomsky Reader 4)Literature from this standpoint is a means through which experiences can be reread and, potentially, reviewed. It would be difficult to determine whether certain attitudes precede someone's reading of literary texts (thus allowing certain ideas to resonate), or whether the literary texts themselves help form the attitudes (as Chomsky implies in his discussion of the role that these texts played for him as a child). But the actual relationship between literary knowledge and empirical fact is clearly problematic for Chomsky, to the point where he consciously blocks out any effects that literary texts might have for his analysis of particular situations. Nevertheless, Chomsky was, and continues to be, "powerfully influenced" by his broad readings of literary texts (8 Aug. 1994), although the nature of this influence is undefinable: "We learn from literature as we learn from life; no one knows how, but it surely happens. In fact, most of what we know about things that matter comes from such sources, surely not from considered rational inquiry (science), which sometimes reaches unparalleled depths of profundity, but has a rather narrow scope a product, I assume, of special properties of human cognitive structure" (15 Dec. 1992). These "properties," like the physical mechanisms involved in the representation, acquisition, and the use of knowledge, are some of the areas of human nature that have always been virtually impenetrable. But, as his research and his remarks about literature imply, Chomsky considers that human nature may someday be describable, and aspects of it may even be understood a possibility that many of his contemporaries don't admit, because they refuse to recognize that a human nature exists. To Chomsky, this kind of thinking is absurd: "Yes, I speak of human nature, but not for complicated reasons. I do so because I am not an imbecile, and do not believe that others should fall into culturally imposed imbecility. Thus, I do not want to cater to imbecility. Is my granddaughter different from a rock? From a bird? From a gorilla? If so, then there is such a thing as human nature. That's the end of the discussion: we then turn to asking what human nature is" (15 Dec. 1992). He goes on to speculate about the source of the denials of human nature: For intellectuals that is, social, cultural, economic and political managers it is very convenient to believe that people have "no nature," that they are completely malleable. That eliminates any moral barrier to manipulation and control, an attractive idea for those who expect to conduct the manipulation, and to gain power, prestige and wealth thereby. The doctrine is so utterly foolish that one has to seek an explanation. This is the one that intellectual and social history seem to me to suggest. (15 Dec. 1992)There is, in the attitude expressed here, some indication of Chomsky's linguistic theory (all people have a characteristic creative capacity and share particular innate abilities), his opinion of most intellectuals (he uses the term "managers" in the same sense that Bakunin and Pannekoek did), his thoughts concerning appropriate environments for human development (beyond control and manipulation), and his suspicions about a collusion between elite powers and those who promote certain doctrines. Also evident in his commentary is the characteristic goad the quality that nudges his readers to evaluate and reevaluate their basic assumptions in the name of both common sense (the granddaughter-rock comparison) and social autonomy (preaching "no nature" paves the way for social control á la, for example, Skinner). Chomsky the worker never lets up his long product list testifies to this and Chomsky the thinker doesn't let things pass without scrutiny, because to do so would be to risk falling into some carefully designed trap, the type of pitfall that left libertarians have long been at pains to expose. |
