Why all this infighting?

[George H. Smith]

Randian has a nice ring to it -- but Rosenbaumians or Rosenbaumites?

It would be Rosenbaumster.

I kinda like it.

Rosenbaumsterism would be a Rosenbaumian heresy. This heresy, however, would not be as detested as the Blumenthalian Heresy.

Ghs

[Philip Coates]

> Randian has a nice ring to it -- but Rosenbaumians or Rosenbaumites?

Talking about people's given names, how would "Heil Schicklegruber" with a snappy heel click have sounded?

Edited September 19, 2010 by Philip Coates

[Philip Coates]

> Given the many centuries that this kind of persecution went on, to call Objectivism an "extreme case" of "heresy-slinging" shows an astonishing lack of historical perspective. [George]

I'm talking about it being extreme on the spectrum today.

[George H. Smith]

> Given the many centuries that this kind of persecution went on, to call Objectivism an "extreme case" of "heresy-slinging" shows an astonishing lack of historical perspective. [George]

I'm talking about it being extreme on the spectrum today.

In that case I don't know if we really disagree all that much.

Ghs

[George H. Smith]

A classic discussion of the bitter debates over orthodoxy and heresy in 4th century Christendom appears in chapter 21 of Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Gibbon employs his sardonic style to full effect in his discussion of the controversy over the Trinity.

The defenders of what would emerge as the orthodox view, according to which Father (God) and Son (Jesus) are consubstantial -- i.e., of the same substance -- were called Homoousians. Their main competitors, those soon-to-be heretics who claimed that Father and Son are of a similar substance, were called Homoiousians.

In one of the most famous lines from his book, Gibbon declared: "The Greek word which was chosen to express this mysterious resemblance bears so close an affinity to the orthodox symbol, that the profane of every age have derided the furious contests which the difference of a single diphthong excited between the Homoousians and the Homoiousians."

Ghs

[algernonsidney]

Just a general question. Why do I see so much infighting among Objectivists or people who claim adherence to Objectivism?

That's simple. A lot of people make decisions on feeling and then rationalize.

[PDS]

A classic discussion of the bitter debates over orthodoxy and heresy in 4th century Christendom appears in chapter 21 of Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Gibbon employs his sardonic style to full effect in his discussion of the controversy over the Trinity.

The defenders of what would emerge as the orthodox view, according to which Father (God) and Son (Jesus) are consubstantial -- i.e., of the same substance -- were called Homoousians. Their main competitors, those soon-to-be heretics who claimed that Father and Son are of a similar substance, were called Homoiousians.

In one of the most famous lines from his book, Gibbon declared: "The Greek word which was chosen to express this mysterious resemblance bears so close an affinity to the orthodox symbol, that the profane of every age have derided the furious contests which the difference of a single diphthong excited between the Homoousians and the Homoiousians."

Ghs

From his first paragraph to almost his last, Gibbon very rarely disappoints.

[PDS]

Does this paragraph remind anybody of any countries they may be residing in?:

"In the second century of the Christian era, the Empire of Rome comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most civilised portion of mankind. The frontiers of that extensive monarchy were guarded by ancient renown and disciplined valour. The gentle but powerful influence of laws and manners had gradually cemented the union of the provinces. Their peaceful inhabitants enjoyed and abused the advantages of wealth and luxury. The image of a free constitution was preserved with decent reverence: the Roman senate appeared to possess the sovereign authority, and devolved on the emperors all the executive powers of government. During a happy period (A.D. 98-180) of more than fourscore years, the public administration was conducted by the virtue and abilities of Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the two Antonines. It is the design of this, and of the two succeeding chapters, to describe the prosperous condition of their empire; and afterwards, from the death of Marcus Antoninus, to deduce the most important circumstances of its decline and fall; a revolution which will ever be remembered, and is still felt by the nations of the earth." Chapter 1

[9thdoctor]

From his first paragraph to almost his last, Gibbon very rarely disappoints.

I dare say you damn with faint praise. No historian before or since has had such huge cojones. Look it up.

[kiaer.ts]

From his first paragraph to almost his last, Gibbon very rarely disappoints.

I dare say you damn with faint praise. No historian before or since has had such huge cojones. Look it up.

Looked up "huge cojones" on google images.

The record apparently belongs to a Jim Goldsmith. Don't know if he's a historian.

[9thdoctor]

Looked up "huge cojones" on google images.

The record apparently belongs to a Jim Goldsmith. Don't know if he's a historian.

Holy crap! Anyway, Gibbon did actually...here's from Wikipedia:

Gibbon is believed to have suffered from an extreme case of scrotal swelling, probably a hydrocele testis, a condition which causes the scrotum to swell with fluid in a compartment overlying either testicle.

It made him a social outcast and led to his death. Decline and Fall seriously may not have been as great if it weren't for his:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjkJfMrQ4bc

[kiaer.ts]

You think Bon Scott's got big balls?

South Park

[George H. Smith]

From his first paragraph to almost his last, Gibbon very rarely disappoints.

It's good to find another Gibbon lover. He was one of the great masters of English prose, and his Decline and Fall is widely regarded by modern historians as one of the few historical works from the 18th century that can still be read for its accuracy and sound interpretations.

I have many favorite passages from Gibbon, but the following probably tops my list. Referring to the period of the Antonines, Gibbon writes:

The policy of the emperors and the senate, as far as it concerned religion, was happily seconded by the reflections of the enlightened, and by the habits of the superstitious. The various modes of worship, which prevailed in the Roman world, were all considered by the people, as equally true; by the philosopher, as equally false; and by the magistrate, as equally useful. And thus toleration produced not only mutual indulgence, but even religious concord.

Ghs

[Philip Coates]

Subject: The Worst Way to Apply Objectivism -- The Schismatics

> Just a general question. Why do I see so much infighting among Objectivists or people who claim adherence to Objectivism?

> That's simple. A lot of people make decisions on feeling and then rationalize.

That's pretty much it, Brant. They are driven by rage or some other strong emotion (misguided justice that makes them willing to take short cuts to 'get' the bad guy).. Maybe outrage when "insulted", so willing to bend the rules to insult back.

What's crystal clear is that they are people who claim to have been persuaded by a philosophy of using reason who are not up to the arduous task of restricting themselves to only using reason.

Shit hurlers. Ad hominem mongers. Vendetta prolongers. Obsessive compulsive accusation and counter-accusationists.

I can guarantee you that those most eager to post every day on these subjects will -never- change. When they are disconnecting the breathing tubes, they'll still be gasping "one last post...I have to get that sonofabitch."

Edited September 21, 2010 by Philip Coates

[9thdoctor]

I have many favorite passages from Gibbon, but the following probably tops my list.

Here's another lovable one, from one of the later volumes:

Of the three Popes, John the Twenty-third was the first victim; he fled and was brought back a prisoner; the most scandalous charges were suppressed; the Vicar of Christ was only accused of piracy, murder, rape, sodomy, and incest.

I can guarantee you that those most eager to post every day on these subjects will -never- change. When they are disconnecting the breathing tubes, they'll still be gasping "one last post...I have to get that sonofabitch."

Oh no, Phil, you’re dying? I didn’t even know you were sick!

[Ellen Stuttle]

I have many favorite passages from Gibbon, but the following probably tops my list. Referring to the period of the Antonines, Gibbon writes:

The policy of the emperors and the senate, as far as it concerned religion, was happily seconded by the reflections of the enlightened, and by the habits of the superstitious. The various modes of worship, which prevailed in the Roman world, were all considered by the people, as equally true; by the philosopher, as equally false; and by the magistrate, as equally useful. And thus toleration produced not only mutual indulgence, but even religious concord.

Ghs

In a quick look-through some recent posts on the "Glenn Beck in D.C." thread, I noticed and copied because I like it well this from post #105 by Mike Greaves:

Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.

-- Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Question about origin: Did Gibbon borrow the basic aphorism from Seneca?

Ellen

[PDS]

Re: the issue of infighting: is there an Objectivist "fusion" candidate out there with the credibility and lack of personal connection to the last 3 decades of schisms, i.e., someone with the stature to throw a pass over Leonard's head? If not, then I doubt the infighting will stop--at least not until (no offense...) the 60's Objectivists have mostly died off.

[Brant Gaede]

Subject: The Worst Way to Apply Objectivism -- The Schismatics

> Just a general question. Why do I see so much infighting among Objectivists or people who claim adherence to Objectivism?

> That's simple. A lot of people make decisions on feeling and then rationalize.

That's pretty much it, Brant. They are driven by rage or some other strong emotion (misguided justice that makes them willing to take short cuts to 'get' the bad guy).. Maybe outrage when "insulted", so willing to bend the rules to insult back.

What's crystal clear is that they are people who claim to have been persuaded by a philosophy of using reason who are not up to the arduous task of restricting themselves to only using reason.

Shit hurlers. Ad hominem mongers. Vendetta prolongers. Obsessive compulsive accusation and counter-accusationists.

I can guarantee you that those most eager to post every day on these subjects will -never- change. When they are disconnecting the breathing tubes, they'll still be gasping "one last post...I have to get that sonofabitch."

Here's what I mean, Phil, about your lack of use of the quote function: you are not replying to me, but you think you are. Those aren't my quotes.

--Brant

[Rich Engle]

Subject: The Worst Way to Apply Objectivism -- The Schismatics

> Just a general question. Why do I see so much infighting among Objectivists or people who claim adherence to Objectivism?

> That's simple. A lot of people make decisions on feeling and then rationalize.

That's pretty much it, Brant. They are driven by rage or some other strong emotion (misguided justice that makes them willing to take short cuts to 'get' the bad guy).. Maybe outrage when "insulted", so willing to bend the rules to insult back.

What's crystal clear is that they are people who claim to have been persuaded by a philosophy of using reason who are not up to the arduous task of restricting themselves to only using reason.

Shit hurlers. Ad hominem mongers. Vendetta prolongers. Obsessive compulsive accusation and counter-accusationists.

I can guarantee you that those most eager to post every day on these subjects will -never- change. When they are disconnecting the breathing tubes, they'll still be gasping "one last post...I have to get that sonofabitch."

Here's what I mean, Phil, about your lack of use of the quote function: you are not replying to me, but you think you are. Those aren't my quotes.

--Brant

Brant, Brant. . .didn't you see? Phil just committed seppuku on a dedicated thread. You are only typing to the Ghost of Phil. Do you have a black armband? A little dignity, please.

[Peter]

Ba'al Chatzaf wrote:

Just a general question. Why do I see so much infighting among Objectivists or people who claim adherence to Objectivism?

end quote

I sometimes wish for a referee, who is the final authority, a sort of Ask Ayn Rand column:

Phil said X, and Ba’al responded, Y. The objective winner of the debate is . . . An omniscient Zeus, if you will.

Of course the participants should be the ones finding the truth and admitting their errors, but that rarely happens. And the readers should support the objective thinker publicly, and their answer.

I remember that debate on altruism, and the infamous Atlas Shrugged “tunnel to death” scene was brought up. “A train is carrying 300 passengers through the Rocky Mountains to San Francisco . . . .” I still agree with Peter Reidy and his comment a number of years ago, that Ayn Rand was the “omniscient author” who knew all about the victims mentioned, and not some blood thirsty vengeance seeker, vicariously imaging the demise of the wicked. Reality exists. Reality rules.

The following reprint from the Daily Objectivist sheds even more insight on the scene. I wonder how the movies will depict the tunnel scene? Robert Trancinski is the best daily commentator out there. Everyone should support his column.

TIA Daily • August 25, 2010

FEATURE ARTICLE

There They Go Again

Part 2: Reading with Eyes Wide Shut

by Robert Tracinski

This article is continued from yesterday's edition of TIA Daily.

Steorts is not reacting to the actual composition of Atlas Shrugged, but to something else. The fact is that he doesn't notice all of the time spent on the heroes of the novel because he does not find them psychologically real and therefore regards them—brace yourselves for this—as uninteresting....

What we are seeing here is the influence of the sense of life of conservatism: he is only interested in characters who are imperfect, torn, conflicted. The two characters who "come to life" for him in The Fountainhead are those who represent a "passionate but thwarted idealism. Each is gripped by his conception of the beautiful and the good, but each betrays it without cease, and ironically out of loyalty to it."

In religious terms, conservatives hold a vision of man as "fallen," as inherently corrupted by original sin. The corollary, in psychological terms, is a view of man as inherently flawed, tortured by contradictions which prevent him from reaching the ideal. So a man who does reach the ideal, a man without inner psychological turmoil, is necessarily unrealistic, two-dimensional, uninteresting.

The altruism of the conservatives is also a motive here. In describing Ayn Rand as having a cruel and arrogant approach to the world, he cites her unwillingness to acknowledge the supposed "good intentions" that drive the statists' mad scramble for greater coercive power.

There is no room at all in Atlas Shrugged for the idea that its policymakers are acting on good-hearted but misguided principles. They are parasites, plain and simple, aware of their evil even if they take pains to hide it from themselves (this in fact confirms their awareness), which is why Rand is happy to hurl them all—if I may quote Chambers a final time—into "one undifferentiated damnation."

But the policies of the economic dictators in Atlas Shrugged—and they're not just standard-issue, old-fashioned "liberals"; they're dictators—are only "good-hearted" if one accepts sacrifice as the good, which is what the whole novel argues against.

And then, as a final motive, there is a religious conception of morality. This is why Steorts, like Chambers, is so put off by the Taggart Tunnel disaster that occurs about two-thirds of the way through the novel. He accurately describes the set-up.

A train is carrying 300 passengers through the Rocky Mountains to San Francisco....

The world scarcely has diesel locomotives. When the one attached to that train breaks down, the only replacements are coal-burning, which is a problem, because the train is about to pass through an eight-mile tunnel that is not properly ventilated for locomotives of this type. It happens that an important looter—Rand's term for the half-wits running and ruining the country—is on the train and has strong feelings about getting to San Francisco. His name is Kip Chalmers. "It's not my problem to figure out how you get the train through the tunnel, that's for you to figure out!" Kip Chalmers screams at a station agent. "But if you don't get me an engine and don't start that train, you can kiss good-bye to your jobs, your work permits and this whole goddamn railroad!"

This is persuasive. "The station agent had never heard of Kip Chalmers and did not know the nature of his position. But he knew that this was the day when unknown men in undefined positions held unlimited power—the power of life or death." And so the station officials, knowing that the loss of their jobs means the loss of their lives, call in a coal engine, procure a drunken engineer, and condemn every passenger on the train to death by asphyxiation.

What offends Steorts is the scene just before the train enters the tunnel, as the novel's narration goes cabin-to-cabin, describing how each of the passengers of the train advocated or supported, in some way, the political system that is about to kill them.

This offends Steorts because he see Ayn Rand, as the author of this scene, as being in the role of God—he actually uses that description—and therefore as arbitrarily condemning this train full of sinners to damnation. But this is not Ayn Rand's moral outlook. To understand the tunnel scene, you have to understand an exchange from earlier in the novel. Before Francisco D'Anconia's speech on the meaning of money, a woman at a party asks him a question. Here is the exchange:

"Senor D'Anconia, what do you think is going to happen to the world?"

"Just exactly what it deserves."

"Oh, how cruel!"

"Don't you believe in the operation of the moral law, Madam?" Francisco asked gravely. "I do."

This, by the way, is why the constant insistence that Ayn Rand is a bad writer falls so flat. This is a brilliant piece of dialogue on many different levels. It shows Francisco's skill at the quip and the one-liner. And notice the subtle point about this woman's unspoken assumption: that if the world is going to get what it deserves, it must deserve something bad. The exchange serves to deepen the mystery of Francisco's character: if he is worthless, skirt-chasing playboy, then why is he speaking "gravely" about morality? And beneath all of this, there is a profound point unique to Ayn Rand's philosophy: her conception of moral law.

Moral law, in Ayn Rand's philosophy, is natural law: it is the logical, long-term consequences of one's ideas and actions on one's well-being and survival. The moral law is not someone's arbitrary invention. It is not a code imposed from above by some supernatural being, who is personally in charge of meting out rewards and punishment according to his preferences. Instead, moral law is as inevitable as the laws of physics. It is the law of cause and effect applied to human action.

So when the passengers of the train ride off to their doom, there is in fact no "glee" in the presentation. Ayn Rand's voice as a narrator is always factual and impersonal. And the part of this scene that Steorts finds most objectionable for its insensitivity is actually painfully poignant:

The woman in Bedroom D, Car No. 10, was a mother who had put her two children to sleep in the berth above her, carefully tucking them in, protecting them from drafts and jolts; a mother whose husband held a government job enforcing directives, which she defended by saying, "I don't care, it's only the rich that they hurt. After all, I must think of my children."

That's the kind of heart-wrenching scene Ayn Rand is so good at writing. She shows us the mother's solicitous care for her children—and how it is undone by her unprincipled support for an evil system. This is not a punishment arbitrarily handed down out of some sense of revenge. Instead, the purpose of this scene is to demonstrate to us "the operation of the moral law," that the evil you advocate or sanction will come back to destroy you. And the purpose of that particular part of the scene is not to spare us from knowledge of the full destructiveness of evil, or the ruthlessness with which it is punished by reality.

But it is reality that does the punishing, by the inexorable logic of events. That's where Steorts gets it wrong. As the author, Ayn Rand is not in the role of God, but in the role of reality. And there is no way for reality to grant exceptions or show compassion. It just is what it is, and there is no one who can bargain or intercede—which is another central point of the novel.

Steorts's interpretation is a natural one if one implicitly views morality as a religious code, in which a deity imposes arbitrary rules that we can't live by. That's why forgiveness, the idea that we will somehow be spared from the consequences of our actions, is so important to religion. If the code can't be followed, if the ideal can't be reached, if we are all sinners—then we need a God (or an author) who grants exceptions out of compassion. That's why Steorts is so fascinated with Wynand: he is the conflicted sinner who can't reach the ideal, who falls short and need to seek redemption. He is the Ayn Rand hero that someone with a religious outlook on morality can identify with.

What is interesting is that all of these assumptions are expressed only on the sense-of-life level; they are not made explicit or really argued for. Thus, Steorts says that he finds Ayn Rand's "evangelistic atheism off-putting in the extreme," which would seem to be a central point—yet the remark is made in passing and he offers no argument against atheism. Combine that with his rejection of all of the central arguments made by Whittaker Chambers, and it becomes clear what is really happening here. The substantive intellectual resistance to Ayn Rand's ideas is melting away—but what is left is a stubborn sense-of-life resistance. The conservatives at National Review can't refute Ayn Rand's ideas, but they can't bring themselves to accept her, either.

This reminded me of an article published a few years back by another conservative associated with National Review, though in this case he was writing in the late, lamented New York Sun. Amid something like a thousand words of wall-to-wall sneering and innuendo, Andrew Stuttaford had only this to say about Ayn

Rand's actual ideas:

Her creed of ego and laissez-faire, and the reception it won, was one of the more interesting—and encouraging—cultural phenomena of mid-20th-century America....

Her key insight was to realize that there was an appetite among Americans for a moral case for capitalism. In a restless age that believed in the Big Answer, neither historical tradition nor utilitarian notions of efficiency would suffice. Ayn Rand gave Americans that case, perhaps not the best case, but a case....

[H]er books...played their part in ensuring that the dull orthodoxies of collectivism never prevailed here.

For all of his dishonesty, Whittaker Chambers at least had a central philosophical argument. That's gone, and today's conservatives largely acknowledge that Ayn Rand has been proven right about many things. But they can't bring themselves to depart from a conventional ethics or sense of life—so they pile up the smutty references to her personal life and parrot the fashionable ridicule of her writing style, in an attempt to justify not taking her ideas seriously.

In the article by Steorts, the most telling passage is one on the meaning of the word "ego" in describing Ayn Rand's self-sufficient hero Howard Roark.

Roark is egoless. I realize that's a dirty word in The Fountainhead, but I'm using it in a special sense, one I think Rand could accept. For Rand, "egoless" means self-negating, sacrificing yourself to something or someone else. What I will use it to mean is an absence of self-consciousness about your ego—a self-esteem secure enough that you don't compare yourself with others, a focus on your work complete enough that you don't worry whether it will succeed, a general freedom from thinking of your identity abstractly and trying to justify or glorify it.

So Ayn Rand made a profound point about the real meaning of the self, a point that is revolutionary in philosophy and central to the theme of The Fountainhead—yet Steorts just lets this new idea bounce off of him and casually returns to the conventional usage (or misuse) of the concept.

The overall sense is of someone who reads Ayn Rand's novels with eyes wide shut, missing 90 percent of the characterization, the conflict, the drama, the ideas. Call it Mr. Magoo epistemology.

The thinking habit behind this is: stick to the safe, the comfortable, the conventional, and be wary of challenging new ideas. This is why Ayn Rand's conservative critics always dismiss the earnest idealism of her novels as an appeal to the "adolescent," the idea being that when you grow up, you will give up, stop trying to answer the big questions of life for yourself, and just accept the conventional answers that have been provided to you.

Thus the bottom line, according to Steorts, is this: "Atlas Shrugged's power as an anthem against President Obama's agenda seems to me to be highly limited, and I think those of us who oppose that agenda would be unwise to push it as our manifesto." This is a call for moral and intellectual disarmament, at the worst possible time—and all to save a certain faction of conservatives from having to confront their own self-imposed blindness.

That's the worst part about the renewed conservative attacks on Ayn Rand. The last time they made a similar effort was around 2005, on the occasion of the centenary of Ayn Rand's birth, a time when we now know the groundwork was being laid for the financial crisis. It was a time when the case for free markets and capitalism—particularly the moral case—was being ignored by the right as well as the left. In short, it was a time when Ayn Rand's influence was desperately needed to save us from disaster, and these conservatives kept telling us to move along, that there was nothing to see here.

I don't think they can do it any more. Perhaps they could blunt Ayn Rand's influence when more of their readers were exposed only to articles like those by Chambers and Stuttaford—but not when so many of them are now reading Ayn Rand directly and drawing their own conclusions about the value of her work. I think that the National Review's desperate rear-guard action to defuse the impact of Ayn Rand's ideas will be futile—as it should be.

It is futile, because the logic of events is causing Americans to realize that they do need Ayn Rand's ideas—and they definitely need the projection, in literature, of her heroes' uncompromising determination to fight for their liberty.

[George H. Smith]

I have many favorite passages from Gibbon, but the following probably tops my list. Referring to the period of the Antonines, Gibbon writes:

The policy of the emperors and the senate, as far as it concerned religion, was happily seconded by the reflections of the enlightened, and by the habits of the superstitious. The various modes of worship, which prevailed in the Roman world, were all considered by the people, as equally true; by the philosopher, as equally false; and by the magistrate, as equally useful. And thus toleration produced not only mutual indulgence, but even religious concord.

Ghs

In a quick look-through some recent posts on the "Glenn Beck in D.C." thread, I noticed and copied because I like it well this from post #105 by Mike Greaves:

Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.

-- Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Question about origin: Did Gibbon borrow the basic aphorism from Seneca?

Ellen

I had never seen this line attributed to Seneca before. There is some controversy about whether he actually wrote it. Go here .

Ghs

[kiaer.ts]

I have many favorite passages from Gibbon, but the following probably tops my list. Referring to the period of the Antonines, Gibbon writes:

The policy of the emperors and the senate, as far as it concerned religion, was happily seconded by the reflections of the enlightened, and by the habits of the superstitious. The various modes of worship, which prevailed in the Roman world, were all considered by the people, as equally true; by the philosopher, as equally false; and by the magistrate, as equally useful. And thus toleration produced not only mutual indulgence, but even religious concord.

Ghs

In a quick look-through some recent posts on the "Glenn Beck in D.C." thread, I noticed and copied because I like it well this from post #105 by Mike Greaves:

Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.

-- Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Question about origin: Did Gibbon borrow the basic aphorism from Seneca?

Ellen

I had never seen this line attributed to Seneca before. There is some controversy about whether he actually wrote it. Go here .

Ghs

Seneca's works are all available in public domain English translations. A search for the terms "Religion true wise false rulers useful" at google books with Seneca as the author returns no even close hits.