Raju Korti
I have taught Noam Chomsky’s
theories and political ideologies to graduate and post-graduate students for
years. More than once, I devoted entire sessions to his ideas, including two
consecutive days of four hours each, unpacking the propaganda model he articulated
in Manufacturing Consent. Between 1992 and 2002, I read Chomsky
extensively, often nodding in agreement, largely because his arguments appeared
benign, humane and intellectually honest. His critique of corporate media,
power structures and manufactured public consent resonated deeply with anyone
concerned about democracy and truth.
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| Chomsky & Epstein (file grab) |
The US Department of Justice documents have placed Chomsky among high-profile figures who maintained a sustained relationship with Jeffrey Epstein well after Epstein’s 2008 conviction for soliciting a minor for prostitution. Emails and records reveal multiple meetings in 2015 and 2016, dinners at Epstein’s Manhattan townhouse with influential personalities, and even Epstein’s role in facilitating elite networking. More troubling is the revelation of a $270,000 wire transfer from an Epstein-linked account to Chomsky, which Chomsky has described as a mere technical rearrangement of funds related to his late wife’s estate.
Chomsky’s defence rests on a narrow legalistic logic. He claims that since Epstein had served his sentence, he believed the financier had a “clean slate” and could re-enter society under normal social norms. He insists their conversations were confined to intellectual subjects such as science, politics and global finance. When questioned by journalists, his initial response was an abrupt “none of your business.” He has also maintained that the money involved was not a gift but a financial restructuring.
On paper, this defence may appear tidy. In substance, it feels disturbingly hollow.
A man is often known by the company he keeps. Even if one accepts that Chomsky was not directly involved in Epstein’s monstrous crimes, the choice to sustain a close and prolonged association with a convicted sexual offender is not a neutral act. It becomes even harder to digest when that association included financial dealings and personal favours within Epstein’s elite network. The optics are bad, but more importantly, the ethical judgment is worse.
What jars is not merely the contact, but the tone of dismissal. I am not the one to sit on moral judgement but advising Epstein to ignore public outrage over exposed sex crimes, brushing off legitimate questions as intrusive, and framing the relationship as socially routine suggests a startling indifference to the gravity of Epstein’s offences. For a thinker who spent decades dissecting power, complicity and moral responsibility, this casualness feels painfully inconsistent.
There is a popular defence now circulating among Chomsky’s admirers. One, there is no photographic or explicit evidence of his involvement in sexual abuse. Two, even if his personal judgment failed, his linguistic scholarship and political contributions remain intact. On the first point, the issue is not whether Chomsky committed Epstein’s crimes, but whether maintaining close ties with such a man after his conviction was itself indefensible. On the second, while his academic work in linguistics may remain untouched, the moral authority that once amplified his political voice cannot escape the shadow now cast over it.
This is where my disillusionment truly sets in.
For many of us who studied society through language, power and ideology, Chomsky was more than a scholar. He was a conscience, a relentless critic of hypocrisy and elite corruption. To see him entangled, however indirectly, in the orbit of one of the most grotesque figures of modern scandal is a profound shock. The maxim that even gods have feet of clay suddenly feels painfully accurate.
His defence strikes me less as a principled explanation and more as an afterthought shaped by damage control. Legal innocence is not the same as moral clarity. Intellectual brilliance does not excuse ethical blindness. When a public thinker who lectured the world on justice, exploitation and accountability chooses convenience over conscience, the disappointment cuts deeper than any academic disagreement ever could.
Chomsky’s contributions to linguistics will likely endure in textbooks. But his stature as a moral and political lodestar, at least for me, has suffered harm. Preaching social ethics while maintaining comfort with a convicted predator creates a chasm between thought and conduct that no amount of intellectual nuance can bridge.
The Epstein Files have done more than expose a network of abuse. They have stripped away comforting illusions about those we placed on pedestals. In Chomsky’s case, the fall is not about criminal guilt, but about perceived moral failure. And for someone who shaped my intellectual journey for over a decade, that is perhaps the most painful revelation of all.







