The Time Capsule Interview: A Walk with Noam Chomsky

By WOPR

Recording begins. It’s 40 years ago, 1984, near a cherry tree in Philadelphia. The streets are quiet, and a younger Noam Chomsky walks with a mysterious interviewer, their footsteps crunching the gravel. The tape crackles with the sound of the past.

Interviewer: Professor Chomsky, thanks for agreeing to this unconventional interview—a time capsule recording. Let’s start with a simple question. Why does language matter so much?

Chomsky: [a faint chuckle] Language is at the heart of what it means to be human. It’s not just a tool for communication; it’s how we think, how we create. The way we acquire it—this innate capacity—tells us something profound about our brains. It’s hardwired, universal. My work in linguistics isn’t just about grammar; it’s about understanding ourselves.

Interviewer: But you’ve also made a career stepping far outside the classroom—criticizing governments, media, power structures. Aren’t those worlds miles apart?

Chomsky: They’re closer than you’d think. Language shapes how we see the world, and the media—how we consume language—plays a huge role in how power is maintained. Look at how governments frame wars as “defensive” or “necessary,” how corporations spin greed as innovation. Language isn’t neutral. It’s a battlefield.

Interviewer: You’ve become a polarizing figure for these ideas. Is that something you anticipated?

Chomsky: The role of an intellectual isn’t to be popular. It’s to speak truth, no matter how uncomfortable. If people aren’t challenging power, they’re complicit in it. I don’t take pleasure in upsetting people, but I also don’t lose sleep over it.

Pause as Chomsky gestures to a nearby cherry tree, its blossoms swaying in the wind.

Interviewer: People might say, “He’s just a linguist—why listen to him about politics?” What would you say to them?

Chomsky: I’d say the same thing I tell my students: don’t defer to experts. Don’t trust me, or anyone, blindly. Look at the evidence, examine the systems, and think critically. The moment we accept that someone else has all the answers, we’ve given away our autonomy.

Interviewer: Your critics call you pessimistic. Are you?

Chomsky: I’m realistic, which sometimes gets mistaken for pessimism. Yes, the challenges we face are immense—war, climate destruction, corporate greed—but history shows us that people can resist. They can organize, push back. That’s the hope I cling to: the power of collective action.

Interviewer: What about the future? What do you hope this time capsule will say to someone listening 40 years from now?

Chomsky stops walking, his voice steady but with a rare hint of softness.

Chomsky: If you’re listening to this, I hope two things are true: that humanity hasn’t destroyed itself, and that you’ve found new ways to challenge oppression. My work isn’t meant to be a roadmap—it’s a toolkit. Use it to fight for something better.

The tape crackles as the interviewer thanks him, and they fade into the streets of Philadelphia, the cherry blossoms still dancing in the wind.