Jesse Singal tackles a decades-old academic feud with a provocative, time-saving thesis: that some of the most celebrated thinkers in continental philosophy are likely charlatans, and you can safely skip reading them. He doesn't just offer a critique of style; he marshals a specific, high-stakes defense of intellectual efficiency, arguing that the inability of experts to explain these ideas clearly is itself the evidence of their emptiness.
The Architecture of Obfuscation
Singal anchors his argument in the work of Matthew Adelstein, a younger philosopher who recently ignited a firestorm by dissecting how continental philosophers "argue." Singal highlights Adelstein's observation that while analytic philosophers strive for clarity, their continental counterparts often produce prose that is "the stylistic equivalent of tar." The distinction isn't merely aesthetic; it's structural. Singal writes, "They start by saying some things, then say other things that they suggest follow from the earlier things... The only problem is that the norms don't involve the use of either logic or any other sound inference rules."
This framing is effective because it moves the debate away from "who is right" to "how is this communicated?" Singal coins the term "obfuscators" to describe writers who ignore established rules of clear thinking. He contrasts normal professional writers, who define terms and follow logical norms, with obfuscators who engage in "rhetorical Calvinball," plowing ahead as if their claims are established despite doing none of the traditional work. Singal notes that obfuscators "will somehow refuse to define X consistently and then speak very confidently about the properties of X," citing Judith Butler's shifting definitions of "gender" as a prime example. This is a sharp, necessary critique of a style that often prioritizes the feeling of depth over actual rigor.
Critics might argue that Singal's binary distinction between "normal writers" and "obfuscators" oversimplifies a tradition where ambiguity is sometimes a deliberate tool to capture the fluidity of human experience, not a failure of logic. However, Singal's point holds weight when the ambiguity prevents any consensus on what the argument actually is.
The Chomsky Shortcut
The piece's most compelling move is Singal's invocation of Noam Chomsky to validate his skepticism. Singal recalls a 1995 Usenet post where the linguist and philosopher admitted to being baffled by figures like Jacques Derrida and Jacques Lacan. Singal writes, "Since no one has succeeded in showing me what I'm missing, we're left with the second option: I'm just incapable of understanding. I'm certainly willing to grant that it may be true, though I'm afraid I'll have to remain suspicious, for what seem good reasons."
Singal leans heavily on Chomsky's logic: if a mind capable of grasping quantum mechanics and topology cannot comprehend these theories, and no one can explain them simply, the burden of proof shifts entirely. Singal paraphrases Chomsky's dilemma: either a "sudden genetic mutation" has created a form of theory beyond current human comprehension, or the work is fundamentally flawed. Singal concludes, "Occam's razor suggests that Noam Chomsky is right, confirming my own suspicion there is very little there there."
"When it comes to certain trendy French and French-inspired thinkers, however, he hits a wall. He doesn't understand what they're saying, or how it hasn't been said better and simpler before, or simply thinks that their work is insanely sloppy."
This argument is powerful because it leverages the authority of a figure known for precision to dismantle a field known for opacity. It suggests that the "cultishness" surrounding these thinkers is a barrier to entry, not a sign of profundity. Singal acknowledges that Lacan developed a field of psychoanalysis, which is inherently strange, but argues that the writing itself often crosses the line from complex to nonsensical. A counterargument worth considering is that Chomsky's expertise in linguistics and formal logic might make him uniquely ill-equipped to appreciate the literary or psychoanalytic nuances of post-structuralism, yet Singal's point remains: if the ideas cannot be translated, their utility is questionable.
Bottom Line
Singal's strongest asset is his refusal to treat obscurity as a virtue, offering a pragmatic framework for busy intellectuals to filter noise from signal. The argument's vulnerability lies in its reliance on the assumption that clarity is always the highest metric of truth, potentially dismissing valid but difficult modes of inquiry. Readers should watch for how this "shortcut" approach influences the broader academic landscape as the demand for accessible, rigorous discourse continues to grow.