Thinking Out Loud | Why Don't We Trust Elites Anymore? Let's Talk about Chomsky and the Collapse of Public Discourse

Question: Why did the Epstein事件 trigger moral doubts about elites?

“Using intellect to judge what is right—that’s called wisdom.”

In this sentence, “intellect” is intelligence, and “wisdom” is being smart. This quote was spoken in 2005 by Noam Chomsky during an interview with The Guardian. He often gives interviews, even though he believes that most Western journalists are unconsciously defending Western imperialism.

That year, Chomsky was 76, and he ranked first on Prospect magazine’s list of the world’s top public intellectuals. Naturally, many people sought his insights, giving him opportunities to clarify important concepts. People generally think that top intellectuals are the most “wise,” but Chomsky said that was a misunderstanding. At least among those on the list, many he didn’t regard highly. He said that Christopher Hitchens, ranked fifth, was just “witty”—quick-reacting but not wise; that Václav Havel, ranked sixth, was “poetic dash,” but not wise.

He also looked down on those engaging in captivating rhetoric in the media, like Harvard professor Michael Sandel, known for “justice.” He said, the role of intellectuals isn’t to be eloquent but to repeat what has already been said many times—that’s “the beauty of restraint.” He added that wisdom comes from relentless, unobtrusive, grounded research into facts, and “using your intellect to judge what is right.”

So, what are the countless facts Chomsky repeatedly emphasizes? Let’s pick some of the most famous: for example, nearly every U.S. president since WWII has committed war crimes; the Khmer Rouge regime, in the broader context of Cambodian history, isn’t the worst; the Srebrenica massacre might have been exaggerated. This event refers to the bloody killing of over 8,000 people (mainly Muslims) in July 1995 in Srebrenica, Bosnia, during the Yugoslav Wars, with over 7,000 graves now marked. But Chomsky says it doesn’t qualify as a massacre.

These are facts Chomsky asserts, but clearly, they are loaded with his viewpoints. Notably, in his published article on Srebrenica, he put quotation marks around “massacre.” He’s accustomed to doing this. Beyond factual issues, this act of putting quotation marks around viewpoints he opposes—using today’s internet slang—can be called “double-speak,” subtly negating the topic. It’s a sharp move, but relatively clever.

Now, twenty years after that ranking, many of the renowned intellectuals on the list are gone—Hitchens, Havel. Chomsky is still alive, but he rarely speaks publicly now, and it’s been a long time since his last interview. He’s only three years away from 100, and he coincidentally was involved in the Epstein files disclosure, with his name appearing on another list—one of global elites connected to the Epstein事件.

According to documents and photos released at the end of 2025 and early 2026, linguist and intellectual Noam Chomsky was photographed on a private jet with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.

Piecing together others’ words for his own use,

he has long been doing this.

The sense of collapse brought by the Epstein事件 is undeniable. It stems from moral disillusionment with elites. No one expects an elite to be morally perfect, but they are easily associated with the most intolerable vices, like pedophilia. Some express their sadness, especially those who have long admired Chomsky or even co-authored books with him. But I think, without avoiding hindsight, that his character was evident from his language and writings long ago.

2005–2006 marked the peak of Chomsky’s reputation, amid growing resentment toward the Bush administration. As a critic of U.S. presidents, he gained unprecedented social prestige. After 9/11, his book 9/11 sold over 300,000 copies, overshadowing doubts about him, such as accusations of paranoia. At that time, Chinese publishers also released a collection of his essays. Opening one—Failed States—you could read:

“Fifty years ago, in July 1955, Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein issued an unusual appeal to the world, urging people to ‘put aside’ their strong feelings about many issues, and see themselves ‘merely as a part of a species with a remarkable history, none of whom wish for its extinction.’ The choice facing the world was ‘stern, terrifying, inescapable: either we destroy all humanity ourselves, or all humanity must reject war.’”

The next paragraph reads:

“However, the world did not reject war. On the contrary, today’s global hegemonic powers claim the right to wage war at will, often under the vague pretext of ‘self-defense.’ For a long time, the U.S. has demanded other nations strictly follow international law, treaties, and rules of order, while ignoring them itself. This behavior was even more blatant during Reagan and Bush Jr.'s administrations.”

Reading these two paragraphs in 2006, your feelings might be different from reading them in 2026. In 2006, you might feel moved by this call for justice, thinking: yes, the most respected intellectuals like Russell and Einstein called for ending war, but half a century later, their hopes have been dashed—mainly due to U.S. militarism. You might even blame America for the ongoing conflicts, feeling hatred for hegemonism.

But in 2026, after reflection, your feelings would shift. It’s like the internet language of 2026—more media-savvy, more sensational.

Back in 2006, social media didn’t exist, nor did short videos or podcasts. Google was still young; Twitter’s predecessor, Odeo, was founded in March 2006, and the familiar 140-character tweets wouldn’t appear until a year later. Yet, Chomsky’s opening paragraph already prefigured the clickbait style of later online discourse: “Fifty years ago, in July 1955, Russell and Einstein issued an unusual appeal…” But why mention Russell? Why Einstein? A quick search of the July 9, 1955, New York Times shows a front-page story about a signed open letter by top intellectuals, but in what context was it published?

It wasn’t about “war” in general, but about the threat of the hydrogen bomb.

During the Cold War, East and West were divided by the well-known “Iron Curtain.” The report said Russell revealed that Einstein and eight other physicists signed the open letter (Einstein had died in April that year; Russell said he signed it while gravely ill), calling for a meeting of scientists on both sides to make the public realize that if the hydrogen bomb exploded, “radioactive dust and rain would pose a very real danger of human extinction.”

The letter was sent to world leaders of nuclear-armed nations, urging them to abandon nuclear weapons and, more importantly, to make all nations see the threat to humanity, awakening them from ideological conflicts.

Russell was a renowned peace advocate and Nobel laureate, so he was entrusted by these scientists (six of whom had Nobel Prizes) to deliver the open letter. It was issued in a specific context. Russell was not a signer. The conclusion of the report was: authoritative experts believed that a hydrogen bomb war could very likely lead to human extinction.

But all this context was stripped away in Chomsky’s article. He cherry-picked the information he wanted, constructing a logic: in 1955, Russell and Einstein called for “stopping war,” and in 2006, Bush’s U.S. policies caused war to continue.

Can you see this logic?

What I understand is a logic of online posting and seeking attention.

An open letter is signed by many, Russell isn’t among them, but Chomsky only mentions “Einstein” and “Russell,” as if only they wrote the letter. Those attracted by this would surely agree: “All humanity should reject war, or else face extinction”—who wouldn’t support that? (Who can argue that peace is worse than war? Extinction is worse than survival?) Then, Chomsky’s tone shifts sharply to condemn “world hegemonic powers,” then narrows focus to “Reagan and Bush’s actions.”

Careful reading of these two paragraphs should make one distrust the author.

A hypocritical agitator, attracting like-minded followers with extreme positions

He’s a scoundrel, someone who stitches words together, stirs emotions, and incites audiences. The only difference between him and an ordinary internet user lacking expression skills is that he dares to speak out more boldly and to establish “polarized” logical links. In the early 21st century, after 9/11, he invoked the 1955 anti-hydrogen bomb open letter, quoting its conclusion about human extinction, creating the impression that “Bush’s government shattered the peace consensus established half a century ago by Russell and Einstein.” Is this the behavior of a humanist scholar? While Bush’s Middle East wars are indeed controversial, criticizing with such language and logic is merely crude agitation.

Such simplistic, emotionally charged rhetoric is prevalent in today’s screen era. With the rise of digital media, people’s attention is commodified; everyone with something to say strives for eye-catching content. Major IPs are fiercely contested, and so-called “knowledge bloggers” even include famous names—Su Dongpo, Wang Yangming, Dream of the Red Chamber, Lu Xun, Shakespeare—in their titles just to attract clicks.

Chomsky has long followed this pattern: first mentioning big IPs like Russell and Einstein. But unlike bloggers, he doesn’t craft plot twists to stimulate viewers. His consistent approach is to attract like-minded followers. His titles often use derogatory language, clearly anti-American. Failed States is one example—just a glance at the table of contents shows it’s not a rigorous political science book about the origin and evolution of “states,” but clearly targets the U.S. as “the state.” Breaking down the chapters into short videos to post online is easy, and those who do so naturally fall into the “anti-American,” “super anti-American” camp.

Chomsky is fundamentally a linguist, known for proposing the “universal grammar” theory, which posits that the brain’s language ability is innate, not learned. He came from a poor background. His radical leftist stance, he says, was formed at age 12 when he helped his disabled uncle at a newsstand, reading newspapers and developing ideas. By the mid-1950s, he was busy with marriage and children. When the Vietnam War broke out a decade later, he entered the public intellectual arena—interviewed, writing political commentary, debating. Surprisingly, even then, he had a discourse style suited for digital media.

In 1971, he participated in a televised debate hosted by Dutch TV, with French philosopher Michel Foucault. The transcript is translated, and a live recording exists on YouTube. Foucault was adept at media, with theories on “madness,” “prison,” “sex” that attracted the public. His scholarly attitude was old-fashioned, committed to the humanist tradition, and he discussed his concern:

“I believe my task is… to point out all hidden political power relations, to expose them, because they are truly controlling, oppressing, and repressing society.”

Foucault limited his scope to “intellect.” He examined social institutions like universities, hospitals, mental asylums, prisons, revealing how power operates. Chomsky, after describing what an ideal society might look like, talked about his anti-Vietnam War actions against police. He subtly revealed his logic: the state is criminal, so he doesn’t think he’s breaking the law. An audience member asked: “You oppose the Vietnam War with great courage, but how can you continue working at MIT, which is a major contractor and think tank for this war?”

A sharp question. How did Chomsky respond?

He said: “Yes, MIT is a large institution researching war, but it also contains very important ideas of free speech, deeply rooted in American society, which is fortunate for the world… but these ideas haven’t yet penetrated enough to save the Vietnamese people, though they can prevent greater disasters.”

He added: “An activist should detach from oppressive institutions—I don’t know what logic that is. The logic is: Marx shouldn’t have researched at the British Museum because it represents the most evil imperialism, with treasures looted from colonies.”

His conclusion: “I think Marx should have researched at the British Museum, using those resources and the idea of freedom embedded in civilization to oppose and defeat it. I am in a similar situation.”

Fifty years later, even just reading his words without the live context, you can see his hypocrisy. Judging his hypocrisy doesn’t require intelligence. He has three children; he could simply say, “I need a job to support my family,” and perhaps get applause. But he invoked Marx. That’s shameless.

Today, in the digital media sphere, it’s easy to imagine that if someone wanted to promote Chomsky’s reputation as a public intellectual, he would also prominently feature “Marx” in the headline: “He is the reincarnation of Marx! He’s writing his Capital at MIT!”

The precursor to the collapse of public discourse

In 2016, after Trump’s first term began, a Chinese translation of another Chomsky interview book was published, titled In the Name of Freedom (originally Western Terrorism). The interviewees were him and another public intellectual, Andre Vltchek. Not Foucault, but a fellow critic. Like Failed States, In the Name of Freedom gives the impression: first, he has access to many little-known political and historical secrets, all used to confirm and condemn Western “terrorism”; second, he always uses pejorative words—crime, hegemony, terror—before stating these facts.

In the Name of Freedom, published by CITIC Press in November 2016,

its provocative style, the sense of truth in pejoratives, combined with a stubborn leftist ideal of society—this is Chomsky. His language, his hypocrisy regarding personal interests, should shame those with leftist critical views, or at least make them find him boring. But many still support him, because they think maintaining this “banner” is more important than what he actually says.

Intellectuals should be humble. Knowledgeable people should constantly calibrate their judgments of reality. Influential thinkers should reflect whether they have become lax in self-discipline, turning into agitators or fame-seekers. Noam Chomsky, now 97, isn’t being condemned because of Epstein; he’s been a symbol of shame long before that—his words, his manner of speaking, his endless speeches prefigure the public discourse collapse in the digital age.

Follow us for more exciting content.