Was Ayn Rand Right? Politics, Philosophy, and Greatness
9 March, 2009
“What is greatness? I will answer: it is the capacity to live by the
three fundamental values of John Galt: reason, purpose, self-esteem.”–
Ayn Rand
Ayn Rand, the late Russian-born philosopher and
novelist whose most famous works are Atlas Shrugged and The
Fountainhead, wrote extensively on the subject of greatness. Directly or
indirectly, most of her body of work was about how to be great, or what was and
was not great, or why things that were or were not great came to be as they
were. She was a person of ideals, an ideologue in the most positive sense
of the term. She believed her Aristotelian philosophy of Objectivism was not
just correct, but uncompromisingly so, and she went to her grave having
alienated almost all of the people around her because of her devotion to this
belief. Objectivism, to Rand, was a blueprint for being great, for
achieving. The protagonists of her lengthy, preachy novels represented her
“ideal men,” and she believed what she had created in expressing these concepts
was both art and philosophy.
Was she right? I think she was, for the most
part; her philosophy, though certainly many have found aspects about it they
criticize, has proven both enduring and influential. It is, on the whole,
right, insofar as Aristotle was right, and it is logical (and logically
consistent). There is much to recommend Objectivism and I have long been some
manner of Objectivist. While politically Rand did not think much of libertarians
(among whom I also count myself), believing they had appropriated her political
framework without its moral underpinnings, I don’t see any reason one cannot be
both a political libertarian and a philosophical objectivist. This will be
disputed by some Objectivists, of course, and among that number will be some who
are condescending, rude, and inflexible about it.
This is the problem
with a lot of Objectivist thought, really, and brings me to the point of this
meditation. Objectivists can frequently be, well, assholes, seeing no
difference between being uncompromising and simply being
inflexible. To be true to your moral principles is fine. To be unable to
coexist in a civil fashion with your fellow human beings because they
dare to disagree with you is another thing entirely. But this is not a
phenomenon specific to Objectivists or to any other political or philosophical
demographic. There are simply those people in the world with whom you cannot
disagree without being, in their eyes, more than wrong. To such people you are a
bad person, a monster, a villain, for the simple fact that you dare not to
affirm their opinions. This is a function of the other party’s insecurity,
for such people lack confidence in their beliefs and are personally affronted
when you deny them validation.
Rand wrote extensively of the resentment
such people have for those who do not share this weakness. To her, the world was
peopled by a few great men who dared to innovate, who stood uncompromisingly for
moral principle. These men (and I use the term deliberately, for she described
herself as a male chauvinist and used the term “men” constantly despite being a
woman herself) were surrounded by a sea of spectators who resented them
simply for being great. The small-minded but loud-mouthed spectators, the
mob, the rabble, threw stones at great men as a matter of course, in Rand’s
mind, because the simple fact of great men’s greatness makes lesser men feel
bad. They lash out from this feeling of inferiority.
You can see the
potential for abuse inherent to Objectivism and to anyone else who subscribes to
this theory of the dynamic, internal locus of control. It would be easy to
dismiss any and all criticism as coming from such “inferior,” “lesser” men…
and thus the political ideologue, the Objectivist, and any similar philosopher
could insulate himself from any external condemnation or query.
If,
however, the individual idealist is honest with himself, if he does
indeed ruthlessly apply logic to the data of his senses, and if he is truly
uncompromising in his application of logical principles, he can identify
invalid criticism for what it is.
These philosophical ideals collide with
political reality on a daily basis, and the election of President Obama
(followed by the actions of his administration in its earliest days) is a good
example of this contact.
Obama campaigned on a platform of hope.
It’s not hard to offer people hope simply by being a different person when the
man you hope to replace is wildly unpopular. George W. Bush was a terrible
president who presided over a time of tragedy, undeclared war, and economic
collapse. He will go down in history accordingly. One thing Bush did not
do, however, was attempt to placate the United States’ enemies through
appeasment and compromise. In this he, at least, adhered to a principle, however
disastrously the rest of his presidency was conducted.
Obama, by
contrast, seems not to understand the concept of American exceptionalism, of
American greatness, and seeks both to compromise principle and to appease
enemies at every turn. Whether encouraging a dialogue with “moderate” Taliban
members in Afghanistan, or refusing to place preconditions on a establishing
diplomatic ties with rogue nations like Iran, Obama signals appeasement; In
embracing staggering transfers of wealth in the guise of economic “stimulus,”
spending billions of those dollars in pork-project earmarks alone, Obama
compromises the principles of freedom and capitalism on which this nation was
built. In this, does the “hope” he offer include greatness? It does not.
Instead his “hope,” his “change,” diminishes us, and those who speak out against
it based on adherence to principle are frequently shouted down or otherwise
dismissed.
Obama’s critics, as examplars of principle, do indeed possess
the ability to distinguish empty, intellectually bankrupt criticism from
legitimate exception. In this they, marching in step with the idealists they are
and whom they represent, represent the last line of philosophical defense. To
stand for principle is often a lonely task. It forces the individual to come to
terms both with his own greatness — no small thing — and with the inferiority
of those around him. It is not natural to acknowledge that so many of our fellow
citizens are our lessers; it feels arrogant and presumption of this type does
not come naturally to rational, reaosnable men. Nevertheless, it is necessary to
embrace this concept, for only in doing so can we remain philosophically
consistent and earnest.
To be honest with ourselves is the highest
goal. Part of that honesty, however, involves being willing to acknowledge when
we are right just as readily as when we are wrong.
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