by Mat Capper
’Your Imagination will be fired.’
In late 2003 a friend of mine told me that the organisers of Liverpool’s ‘Writing on the wall’ festival were planning to bring Noam Chomsky over for a series of talks, and would I like to get involved. To Chomsky ‘fans’ it would have been like offering me the chance to appear along side Cillian Murphy and Audrey Tatout in the new Woody Allen film ‘Curse of the New York film financers’. But I have to admit I didn’t really know who he was. I did smile and say ‘wow, that would be brill’, while making a mental note to check him out and find out what he’d done. I did like the sound of him after my friend described him as the intellectual’s Mike Moore.
One of my problems is that I’m very thinly read. Films have always been my source of inspiration. I probably know very little about thousands of subjects. The only thing I knew about Chomsky was that the band Radiohead has dedicated an album to him and that he was often brought up among writers at parties in Liverpool’s Lark Lane(the New York equivalent probably being lower Manhattan, and London possibly Hampstead). I can remember when I met my now favourite writer, Jeff Young, for the first time. I felt I needed the ‘writer’s kit’ of books on my shelves — the complete works of Marlowe, Shakespeare, TS Eliot, two copies of ‘Catcher in the Rye’, ‘Animal Farm’, ‘Perfume’, ‘The Dice Man’, ‘War of the Worlds’, poetry from Robert Browning, Dylan Thomas, and script copies of plays by Pinter, Beckett and Brecht– in order to be taken seriously. Well it was the same with Chomsky. I thought I’d need to be well versed in not only linguistics but the politics of every single nation. So I decided to approach some well read friends for a couple of Chomsky pointers and possible debate topics.
A friend suggested I should discuss the assassination of JFK, as Chomsky had never written about it. I thought this was a good starter, especially since the BBC had just screened a ludicrous documentary ‘proving’ the lone gunman theory. Armed with that question and having read Rogue States I set off on my quest for Chomsky enlightenment.
I had to pick Noam up from Oxford University where he was doing a series of linguistics lectures. I hired a people carrier and spent the journey from Liverpool going over how I would greet Chomsky when we met; was Noam too informal? Should I call him Professor? Mr Chomsky? Should I speak in a reverent manner? Or should I just be myself? Well, I couldn’t do anything else, not for a long drive, anyway. Luckily, that turned out all right.
I entered the Lecture theatre mid way through Chomsky’s talk. He looked older than any of the photos I’d seen. His voice was tired and croaky (I since discovered he was recovering from throat surgery). The first thing I heard him say was ‘if you add a teabag to water, it ceases to be water but becomes tea’, which puzzled and enticed me in equal measures. As the lecture went on I struggled to understand everything, but I was mainly absorbed by Noam’s manner and, more than anything else, by his calm. He struck me as a gentleman in the true sense of the word.
On the journey to Liverpool the conversation was mostly about Liverpool’s history. Noam listened to everything that was said, by me and the crew that had come along to film the trip [click here to view a part of that documentary]. I’d wrongly presumed that we wouldn’t be able to get a word in edge ways. There was a gap in the conversation and I asked if I could ask a question. He politely agreed. This was my moment, I thought.
‘What is your opinion on the public’s reaction to the assassination of JFK? ‘It shows the immaturity of the left wing’, he replied. He went on to explain that there was no real evidence that Kennedy’s death was purely a governmental assassination. That there was a likely Mafia link, and there is no doubt that Oswald was a ‘patsy’. He explained that Kennedy’s death doesn’t deserve the attention it still receives and that the left wing of America still desperately hangs onto Kennedy’s legend, a ‘legend’ that is actually a myth. I was silently stunned as his words sank in. This wasn’t an opinion I’d heard or expected to hear. He went on to explain that the strongest case for a political assassination and the real tragedy in terms of a lost icon was that of Martin Luther King, and it is he that should be revered in the way Kennedy is.
We arrived late in Liverpool after stopping for dinner of cheeseburgers and chips at a Little Chef; I still have this image today of a jumper clad Gandalf like figure tucking into his cheeseburger using a knife and fork to make neat bite-sized segments.
When we got to Liverpool, we checked Noam into the Holiday Inn in the city centre and I wished him good night. I drove home and bumped into Liverpool writer Jeff Young and local musical legend Pete Wylie. I had one of those conversations that I can’t imagine forgetting. It was one of those ‘d’ya know who I’ve just had in the back of my cab’ moments. They were both suitable impressed, and I retired to my flat to mull over the day’s events.
The following morning I picked Chomsky up at his hotel to take him to Manchester. He was doing an afternoon talk in the city centre and had to be there for lunch at 1 o’clock. As he climbed into the vehicle he greeted me with a friendly smile. He looked well rested and his voice was a little stronger. On the journey he spent most of the time asking about the sacked Dockers who we had arranged to meet later that afternoon.
The talk in Manchester went extremely well. There was a standing ovation at the end. Outside Noam posed for a few photos and signed some books. He looked uncomfortable with all the attention and was glad to get into the safety of the vehicle. We then went back to Liverpool for a meeting with the Dockers. I asked him how he copes with all the talks and attention. He said he enjoys the talks but not the attention.
We arrived at the Dockers club at late in the afternoon. Three of the sacked Dockers explained that the building was bought with profits made from the Jimmy McGovern film called simply ‘Dockers’. The piece was co-written by a number of the sacked dockers.
The building is now a pub and training centre. They have computer facilities upstairs from the bar and the back room is hired out for bands and salsa evenings. One of the Dockers explained that although a large number of the ex-Dockers have retrained, there are some that haven’t worked since the dispute because they consider themselves too old. Noam seems genuinely concerned, maybe because he is 78 and probably couldn’t stop working even if he wanted to.
We left the Dockers and made our way over to the Stanley Theatre in the heart of Liverpool. A capacity crowd of about 1000 people filled the venue. I sat with Noam backstage in a room that was geared towards housing bands. He was perched on the edge of a grubby sofa, and I sat next to him on a table. He seemed a little nervous at the prospect of going on stage and asked me about my life. In a very short space of time I blurted out that I had studied law, been involved in a serious car crash, become a drunk, gone back into writing and film-making –and all the time Noam sat there and listened. I remember thinking that I wished Noam had been my psychologist during extensive therapy I’d received for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I was honoured to be able to lead him into the auditorium. Every person in the theatre stood and clapped loudly as we entered. There were smiles on the faces of everyone in the crowd as cameras flashed and people chattered in anticipation.
After the introduction Noam spoke for about fifty minutes on what seemed like every topic under the sun, including consumerism, capitalism, and the environmental problems facing our world. He didn’t stop for breath and spoke in a calm and well-planned way. This was followed by a question and answer session.
The first question was about the control pharmaceutical companies have over the world. Noam explained that in Africa alone there are 8000 children dying every single day because they don’t have basic medical supplies, that this could be easily resolved with the provision of the necessary drugs and that the large pharmaceutical companies justify their huge profits by saying that the research needed is extremely expensive. Yet the truth is that only 40% of their profits are re-invested into research and the other 60% is provided through the public funds.
The next question was about education systems. He explained that any system is used to control its society. This begins with education. The children that are rewarded with a good education are the ones who are most obedient. They are the students who go to university and tend to have the higher paid jobs. The children who are not obedient in classrooms are now classed as having some sort of behavioural problem and are often given drugs to ‘help’ them. He described the existence of control in our society throughout our whole lives. After we leave the education system we are then controlled financially through mortgage, bank and credit card debt. He’d read in the paper that morning (he still reads four or five a day) that credit card debt in the UK alone is nearing a billion pounds. He explained that if people are controlled through fear then they keep consuming.
Noam refused to answer a question on Europe because he felt he didn’t know enough about it. He said he did have an opinion, but that the questioner probably knew more about it than him and opinions alone shouldn’t be given without some sort of research. I was astounded at how humble Noam was.
A girl of about seventeen asked the last question. She asked ‘What can people of my age do to change the world?’ I could tell Noam liked the question. He paused a moment before answering and took a sip of water. He said the whole fair trade issue had really been addressed by young people and that the younger people he’d come across were genuinely passionate about it and could make massive changes.
When Noam finished the talk there was another standing ovation. As he walked off the stage he was mobbed by groups of people wanting autographs, photos, and to shake him by the hand. As I led him through the crowds I could tell he was uncomfortable with the attention. I led him out the back door, where more crowds were waiting. A Muslim man came over and thanked Noam for being so caring. He said Allah would protect him, and he gave him a hug.
I drove Noam back to his hotel. He was pleased with the talk and in particular the quality of the questions and passion of the people asking them. His voice was tired, and he said he was looking forward to having a good rest. I said goodnight and told him I’d be there at seven in the morning to drive him to the airport.
The following morning I woke early and felt a little sad that I had to take Noam out of Liverpool. I knew this was my last chance to ask him something interesting. As he got into the carrier for the last time he said he’d slept well and was looking forward to getting back home in a few days time because he missed his family whenever he was away. On the drive I asked what it was like to be considered a genius by so many people. He said ‘I’m just lucky that I remember the things I read’. I felt like asking him to become my adopted Grandad as I hugged him goodbye, but I didn’t. I just looked on as he walked into the departure lounge.
A week or so after he left Liverpool I emailed Noam thanking him for coming and asking him to return soon. I told him that people now refer to him as ‘Chomo’ and that I’d started it as a term of endearment. He replied that he loved being in Liverpool, thoroughly enjoyed the talk and he hopes to come back soon. The email was signed ‘Chomo’.
In the time since meeting the inspirational Chomo I have noticed a change in myself. I have checked out more of his books, watched more documentaries like ‘The Corporation’, ‘Control Room’, and ‘Loose Change’. I understand that all media is biased, but the more I read, the more different sources I check out, the more solid my foundations can be. I have become more ‘political’ in the true sense of the word. I stopped drinking about 8 years ago, and someone asked me what is the one thing that I wanted from sobriety. I said ‘peace of mind’. He said he wanted ‘justice’, and at the time I didn’t understand what he meant. Today I do, and it’s people like Chomo that inspire, encourage and inform people to seek justice. Justice for the innocent victims at the hands of the so called ‘civilised western world’, whether it is through policies of economic containment or through direct invasion of foreign lands in the name of ‘liberation’ (ie ‘oil’). So I salute you, Noam Chomsky. I just wish you could get into the homes and the minds of people who need you most. But for now I will continue to educate myself, continue to discuss change, and continue to provoke people into thinking about the world we live in.