Foggy Landscape, Foggy Mind

[Jonathan]

Today I was driving through a foggy landscape, and, as I usually do, I enjoyed the beauty of how fog adds to the feeling of clarity and visual depth by atmospherically separating the trees and buildings that are closer from those that are farther away (among other reasons for enjoying it). Contrary to the Randian view that foggy landscapes appeal to the type of person who prefers a blurry world where outlines dissolve and where the concept of distinct identities can be dispensed with, because he spends most of his time mentally out of focus and terrified of reality, I see foggy landscapes as offering a different type of sharp focus -- a different perspective or context from which to view different aspects or relationships of things.

As I was driving, I was also admiring the endlessly subtle differences in the scenery's lack of dramatic value contrasts, as well as its infinite variety of "muddy colors." What beauty! What a plethora of value and color differences within such a small portion of the visible spectrum!

Of course, the experience made me think about how horribly lacking in self-esteem I must be according to Rand's official Objectivism, so, after refreshing my memory of her examples of how people with self-esteem will respond to various things, I switched my radio to a station that was playing a Shawn Colvin song which I thought qualified as "folk music". I liked it. Thank God that I wasn't near an old village at the time, or a humble man, or I might have gone five for five (I like the sense of time that an old village gives me, and I've known plenty of humble people whose gentle humor was very engaging and who I'd prefer to spend time with over certain "heroic men").

Anyway, admiring the foggy landscape and its "muddy colors" got me to wondering about how other real people (and not just the imaginary ones in Rand's mind) who possess various degrees of self-esteem might respond to the sets that Rand listed:

"A heroic man, the skyline of New York, a sunlit landscape, pure colors, ecstatic music."

"A humble man, an old village, a foggy landscape, muddy colors, folk music."

Rand believed that a person of high self-esteem will feel admiration, exaltation and a sense of challenge in response to the first set above, and disgust or boredom in response to the second.

I used to think that Rand was merely overgeneralizing, but now I think that people who are limited to responding positively to the first set while responding with disgust or boredom to the second, might be more likely than others to be lacking in things like self-esteem.

Like Rand, I'm not a psychologist, so I can't speak with authority on the subject, but my general view is that the people I've known who seem to be really lacking in something significant are more likely than others to seek reassurance and safety in their admiration for heroes (and even in the general concept of heroism), while obsessing over things like their (and others') "proper" admiration of the "proper" things -- be it scenery, colors, music or anything else -- and, more disturbingly, their loathing of other people for their different tastes.

Who is more likely to limit the perspectives from which they are willing to look at life, to spend their days feeling disgust over colors, scenery and harmless weather phenomena, and to expect that every person of self-esteem should have the same tastes, the same appreciation for heroically arrogant personalities, or for the same level or type of achievement in life? Are those the views of people who are confident, strong, and brimming with self-esteem, or of those who have major deficits in certain areas of their lives?

What would those who are experts in psychology have to say about the subject?

J

Edited November 19, 2007 by Jonathan

[Brant Gaede]

Like Rand, I'm not a psychologist, so I can't speak with authority on the subject, but my general view is that the people I've known who seem to be really lacking in something significant are more likely than others to seek reassurance and safety in their admiration for heroes (and even in the general concept of heroism), while obsessing over things like their (and others') "proper" admiration of the "proper" things -- be it scenery, colors, music or anything else -- and, more disturbingly, their loathing of other people for their different tastes.

Who is more likely to limit the perspectives from which they are willing to look at life, to spend their days feeling disgust over colors, scenery and harmless weather phenomena, and to expect that every person of self-esteem should have the same tastes, the same appreciation for heroically arrogant personalities, or for the same level or type of achievement in life? Are those the views of people who are confident, strong, and brimming with self-esteem, or of those who have major deficits in certain areas of their lives?

What would those who are experts in psychology have to say about the subject?

There are no "experts in psychology" on OL I know of. Having heroes when you are young is a vital part of growing up using role models and persevering in those difficult years. It takes heroism to live. Try a life without courage and see what happens to self-esteem then.

--Brant

[Jonathan]

The issue isn't one of living without courage, heroes or role models, but the mindset of feeling disgust for things which are neither heroic nor villainous, acting as if their existence is a personal insult, and being apparently oblivious to the fact that something may be seen as valuable by people other than Rand or her followers for any number of reasons which have nothing to do with lacking self-esteem. To me, declaring how a man of self-esteem will respond to a certain landscape or palette of colors is like declaring how he will respond to turkey versus ham. What type of psychology would be involved in declaring that if he likes one, he must he detest the other?

J

[Reidy]

Can you tell us where you got this quote? I remember these words, but I'd like to re-read them in context.

[Michael Stuart Kelly]

There are no "experts in psychology" on OL I know of.

Brant,

Actually there are quite a few. We have corners for two: Nathaniel Branden and Robert Campbell. Nathaniel has not posted in a while because he encountered difficulty with the forum program and in his busy life, he has not found the time to learn it to the extent he is comfortable.

In addition to these two, there are Steve Shmurak, Steve Wolfer and William Scherk. Ellen Stuttle knows oodles about Jung. I have probably missed a couple and undoubtedly there are several lurkers.

But most of all, don't forget that I was the Psychology Leader of SoloHQ and Solo Passion (before being banned for... er... having the wrong psychology). With credentials like that, I am surprised you forgot.

Michael

[Greybird]

A vague sense of second-handedness, from Rand's approved list of esthetic qualities — which you rightly skewer — to her menacing use of "gentle reader," runs all the way through The Romantic Manifesto. It sometimes gives me the shakes in re-reading that book, however much I agree with her points.

On the other hand:

The people had come to witness a sensational case, to see celebrities, to get material for conversation, to be seen, to kill time. They would return to unwanted jobs, unloved families, unchosen friends, to drawing rooms, evening clothes, cocktail glasses and movies, to unadmitted pain, murdered hope, desire left unreached, left hanging silently over a path on which no step was taken, to days of effort not to think, not to say, to forget and give in and give up. But each of them had known some unforgotten moment — a morning when nothing had happened, a piece of music heard suddenly and never heard in the same way again, a stranger’s face seen in a bus — a moment when each had known a different sense of living. And each remembered other moments, on a sleepless night, on an afternoon of steady rain, in a church, in an empty street at sunset, when each had wondered why there was so much suffering and ugliness in the world. They had not tried to find the answer and they had gone on living as if no answer were necessary. But each had known a moment when, in lonely, naked honesty, he had felt the need of an answer.

When Rand wanted to, she could express a far broader esthetic palette through her words. That she does so in this paragraph, one of my favorites, makes me believe that she lost a distinct awareness of the world around her between The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and that she never got it back. In regard to her efforts at being a philosopher, more's the pity.

[Dragonfly]

"Muddy colors", or the art of smearing colors. Ironically this is a good example of what Rand herself called an "anti-concept". It is attaching a negative connotation to what is objectively indicated by "muted colors". In that regard it is similar to Rand's own examples of "extremism" or "polarization" as "anti-concepts". I find the idea that there is something wrong with your sense of life when you like the many subtle nuances that you can create with muted colors ridiculous. That would imply that a someone with a positive sense of life would prefer a Disney cartoon over a Rembrandt van Rijn painting because the first one is made with pure colors and the second one not.

[Brant Gaede]

I forgot about Robert Campbell because he writes so well on other subjects.

--Brant

[Barbara Branden]

When Rand wanted to, she could express a far broader esthetic palette through her words. That she does so in this paragraph, one of my favorites, makes me believe that she lost a distinct awareness of the world around her between The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and that she never got it back. In regard to her efforts at being a philosopher, more's the pity.

Steve, the quote is one of my favorites, too. I remember that when I first read it, age fourteen, I put the book down -- the only time I put it down until I had finished it -- and spent a long time thinking about it, vowing that I would never be one of the people whose lives consisted of "murdered hope" and "desires left unreached."

And I agree with your point. Much was lost between The Fountainhead and Atlas -- and still more was lost after Atlas.

Barbara

[Jonathan]

Can you tell us where you got this quote? I remember these words, but I'd like to re-read them in context.

The quotes come from page 27 of The Romantic Manifesto, Chapter 2, Philosophy and Sense of Life:

A sense of life is formed by a process of emotional generalization which may be described as a subconscious counterpart of a process of abstraction, since it is it a method of classifying and integrating. But it is a process of emotional abstraction: it consists of classifying things according to the emotions they evoke — i.e., of tying together, by association or connotation, all those things which have the power to make an individual experience the same (or a similar) emotion. For instance: a new neighborhood, a discovery, adventure, struggle, triumph — or: the folks next door, a memorized recitation, a family picnic, a known routine, comfort. On a more adult level: a heroic man, the skyline of New York, a sunlit landscape, pure colors, ecstatic music — or: a humble man, an old village, a foggy landscape, muddy colors, folk music.

Which particular emotions will be invoked by the things in these examples, as their respective common denominators, depends on which set of things fits an individual's view of himself. For a man of self-esteem, the emotion uniting the things in the first part of these examples is admiration, exaltation, a sense of challenge; the emotion uniting the things in the second part is disgust and boredom. For a man who lacks self-esteem, the emotion uniting the things in the first part of these examples is fear, guilt, resentment; the emotion uniting the things in the second part is relief from fear, reassurance, the undemanding safety of passivity.

I had forgotten that men of self-esteem are bored and disgusted by family picnics.

J

[Barbara Branden]

"A heroic man, the skyline of New York, a sunlit landscape, pure colors, ecstatic music."

"A humble man, an old village, a foggy landscape, muddy colors, folk music."

Rand believed that a person of high self-esteem will feel admiration, exaltation and a sense of challenge in response to the first set above, and disgust or boredom in response to the second

Joanathan, I would generally respond to and want to see "a heroic man (or woman), the skyline of New York, a sunlit landscape, ecstatic music, a humble man, an old village, and a foggy landscape." I would omit muddy colors, pure colors, and folk music. But surely what one most wants to see or hear, what feels most important and right at any given moment, is not unvarying. It depends in large part on one's mood, one's physical state, one's recent experiences, the success or failure of one's endeavors, etc. For instance, there are times when I want to hear tragic music, and ecstatic music would not reach me -- there are times when the skyline of New York saddens me because I think of the unfulfilled lives of so many people who inhabit those buildings -- there are times when I'd want to shake the humble man and tell him to for God's sake stand up straight!

To quote Emerson, "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds." Please note the word "foolish."

Barbara

[Ellen Stuttle]

Steve, the quote is one of my favorites, too. I remember that when I first read it, age fourteen, I put the book down -- the only time I put it down until I had finished it -- and spent a long time thinking about it, vowing that I would never be one of the people whose lives consisted of "murdered hope" and "desires left unreached."

But, Steve and Barbara, how many people are there in the world really to whom that quote applies? (The quote is repeated below.) I didn't read The Fountainhead until I was close to twenty; and, fact is, I think I had a fortunate early life -- though there was by then tragedy brewing in my family circumstances; two of my brothers, recall (Barbara knows this, though Steve might not), later committed suicide. Seeds of the impending rather Dostoevskian tradgedy were in evidence even then, but for the most part I'd describe my own childhood as having been an exuberantly happy one. Thus I didn't grow up with a feeling of being "at odds" with the adult world, with the human world more generally, as so many I've known who were electrified by The Fountainhead report having felt. But even if you're one who grew up feeling "at odds," would you really still say today that most of humanity is as AR projected them?

And am I the only one who sees how much that description echoes her abandoned project "The Little Street"?

The people had come to witness a sensational case, to see celebrities, to get material for conversation, to be seen, to kill time. They would return to unwanted jobs, unloved families, unchosen friends, to drawing rooms, evening clothes, cocktail glasses and movies, to unadmitted pain, murdered hope, desire left unreached, left hanging silently over a path on which no step was taken, to days of effort not to think, not to say, to forget and give in and give up. But each of them had known some unforgotten moment — a morning when nothing had happened, a piece of music heard suddenly and never heard in the same way again, a stranger’s face seen in a bus — a moment when each had known a different sense of living. And each remembered other moments, on a sleepless night, on an afternoon of steady rain, in a church, in an empty street at sunset, when each had wondered why there was so much suffering and ugliness in the world. They had not tried to find the answer and they had gone on living as if no answer were necessary. But each had known a moment when, in lonely, naked honesty, he had felt the need of an answer..

Re this, however, I, too, agree:

And I agree with your pohnt. Much was lost between The Fountainhead and Atlas -- and still more was lost after Atlas.

Ellen

___

Edited November 20, 2007 by Ellen Stuttle

[Greybird]

Thanks to Barbara and Ellen for your personal reactions.

[...] But even if you're one who grew up feeling "at odds," would you really still say today that most of humanity is as AR projected them?

Most of humanity? Not necessarily. For far too many, far too much of the time, I see that as being hard to deny.

The context here does matter somewhat: Roark was on trial, and the mass of the public had been primed to a fever pitch of moral righteousness against him, out of the altruistic platitudes that most had passively accepted all their lives.

Those doting on such a spectacle, from what I see, often fit such a description. (I saw it in the cackling over the trials of Michael Milken and Martha Stewart, among others.) Those to whom it didn't fit were attending the trial out of supporting Roark, and showing fidelity to their inner values — not because they particularly "wanted" to be there.

I've long wondered whether Rand had seen similar spectacles upon coming to America, been bemused or disappointed, and distilled some of that reaction into the scene. (As well as into her courtroom play "Penthouse Legend," more famous as "Night of January 16th.")

In any event, one's personal reaction is a separate matter. Barbara noted how it led her, at age 14, to a moment of resolve. I was noting it as a vivid key to the broader esthetic choices that Rand once took up more fully — through three novels thus far, and as contrasted with Atlas. It didn't particularly shake my own inner moorings, though, at age 18, when I read it, as much as I was captivated by the writing. I'd been disappointed enough in second-handers to have already resolved to not be like them.

That you asked this, though, evokes a curious thread that runs through Objectivist culture. I've seen many moments of back-reasoning, coming from seeing Rand as a philosopher. They usually take this form:

When Rand expressed some setting or contrast in her novels in such a vivid way, it's very likely indicative of how she saw the world herself. And those who react strongly to such passages resonate, themselves, with her worldview, and very likely are sympathetic to it.

Why must this be true, though? I never saw any such necessary connection, as often as it's been at least implicitly suggested. It's possible to evoke a mood, a flavor of behavior, or an assessment of those in the "cast" of the novel — even the extras, so to speak — without this being a direct conduit for the author's own viewpoint.

This passage is a good example. I doubted even at the time I first read it — a decade before Passion and My Years, and their personal details — that Rand felt that way herself. I was led to believe exactly the opposite, with what she had stressed in the book's introduction. (I wouldn't have even thought about the matter, in regard to her, if not for that very introduction.)

Rand was, to me, describing an understandable reaction — if not a valid one — provoked by her protagonist, in light of a torrent of abuse dumped on him. The spectators had their "better angels" questioning this, but few made the conscious connections. I didn't see Rand as being cynical in assessing humanity here. Realistic and perceptive, perhaps. Even somewhat optimistic, as to what she'd later call "sense of life."

What I never saw in this or other work of hers, though, was an indicator of how I personally felt about those around me. Nor — apart from Atlas — how Rand felt. I saw storytelling virtuosity, far more than a process of revelation on anyone's part.

It was only later, when fiction shaded into philosophy — especially by the time of For the New Intellectual — that these two elements got thoroughly mixed, mostly at Rand's own instigation. (I believe the Brandens ended up doing some of this, though I doubt they were aware of doing so or of its pitfalls. Peikoff and his associates knew the hazards fully, and have long since charged ahead to do it anyway.)

Edited November 20, 2007 by Greybird

[Barbara Branden]

Ellen wrote:

"But, Steve and Barbara, how many people are there in the world really to whom that quote applies? (The quote is repeated below.) I didn't read The Fountainhead until I was close to twenty; and, fact is, I think I had a fortunate early life -- though there was by then tragedy brewing in my family circumstances; two of my brothers, recall (Barbara knows this, though Steve might not), later committed suicide. Seeds of the impending rather Dostoevskian tragedy were in evidence even then, but for the most part I'd describe my own childhood as having been an exuberantly happy one. Thus I didn't grow up with a feeling of being "at odds" with the adult world, with the human world more generally, as so many I've known who were electrified by The Fountainhead report having felt. But even if you're one who grew up feeling "at odds," would you really still say today that most of humanity is as AR projected them?"

The people had come to witness a sensational case, to see celebrities, to get material for conversation, to be seen, to kill time. They would return to unwanted jobs, unloved families, unchosen friends, to drawing rooms, evening clothes, cocktail glasses and movies, to unadmitted pain, murdered hope, desire left unreached, left hanging silently over a path on which no step was taken, to days of effort not to think, not to say, to forget and give in and give up. But each of them had known some unforgotten moment — a morning when nothing had happened, a piece of music heard suddenly and never heard in the same way again, a stranger’s face seen in a bus — a moment when each had known a different sense of living. And each remembered other moments, on a sleepless night, on an afternoon of steady rain, in a church, in an empty street at sunset, when each had wondered why there was so much suffering and ugliness in the world. They had not tried to find the answer and they had gone on living as if no answer were necessary. But each had known a moment when, in lonely, naked honesty, he had felt the need of an answer.

Ellen, clearly you did not grow up in a small, narrow, conservative md-western Canadian town, where the wearing of white after Labor Day would set tongues wagging at the scandal -- where, when an unmarried girl became pregnant, these same tongues opined that her young man would never marry her; "Why should he, now, after all?" they said -- where I saw my mother, a woman pf remarkable intelligence and energy and an equally remarkable capacity for enjoyment, learn too late that she could have chosen a life different than the one she had, and so the happiest years of her life were the years of World War II, when in place of the career she should have had, she worked crushingly long and difficult hours doing volunteer work at an army hospital -- where I saw that many of my mother's friends were married to men they had come to detest but would never leave, because divorce would make them social outcasts, and so instead some of them played cards with other women day after deadly day, month after month, year after year, and some of them drank too much and flirted too much with their friends' husbands, and a few of them attempted suicide, and no one spoke of the horror of these lives -- where, daily, at school, I was told by my schoolmates that I was a Christ-killer and where the tiny Jewish quota at the medical school kept many hundreds of bright young Jewish students, over the years, from pursuing the dreams that might have brought medical breakthroughs that would have changed the world --- where I watched almost every talented and energetic young person I met flee a city singularly devoid of art and music and theater, hoping to make lives and careers for themselves in the United States -- where the greatest pain of childhood was loneliness, the desperate, unfulfilled need for someone to talk with, someone with whom to share my plans and fears and hopes and thoughts and longings.

This constituted much of the world I saw around me when I was fourteen. It was books, only books, that told me that this was not all of life, that these people were not representative of mankind, that there were other kinds of people and other ways of living somewhere out there in the wider world. It was The Fountainhead, and quotes like this one, that helped instill in me the steely resolve to follow my own vision and be my own person.

So yes, it was the way I saw the world, and I did feel at odds with it and with the adults and most of the children around me. But no, it's not the way I see the world today...most of the time.

Barbara

[Brant Gaede]

Thank you, Barbara. It is interesting how your experiences paralleled Ayn's. She found relief in literature and the movies.

I am struck by how a serious tendency toward bleakness and depression reflected in her fiction seems to have been her default position generally and how her fiction writing as such tended to push that back from her personally. I wonder if not hearing from her (best) kind of people recognizing and supporting her after the publication of Atlas was actually the essential ingredient for the consequent depression she suffered. Maybe it was a vicious snap back for a situation where the creation of her masterpiece had been her greatest protection from the world.

--Brant

edit: I am not saying bleakness and depression were leitmotifs of her fiction.

Edited November 20, 2007 by Brant Gaede

[Jonathan]

This constituted much of the world I saw around me when I was fourteen. It was books, only books, that told me that this was not all of life, that these people were not representative of mankind, that there were other kinds of people and other ways of living somewhere out there in the wider world. It was The Fountainhead, and quotes like this one, that helped instill in me the steely resolve to follow my own vision and be my own person.

My formative years were apparently quite different from yours, Barbara. Some of the bad things that you mention existed, but they were by no means culturally dominant. Where I grew up, there were not many people living in the shattered remains of broken dreams, drowning misery in alcohol, or looking for affairs with friends' spouses. There was really very little envy, self-pity or destructive behavior.

Education was highly valued, as was building a career that would make one both happy and financially successful. Almost everyone was religious, but they were also quite tolerant and respectful of different beliefs. When I decided that I was an atheist, I wasn't hassled or rejected by anyone.

Family members generally loved and were very supportive of each other. Unhappy marriages and divorces were rare. When divorces happened, they were more likely to be quiet and amicable than public and bitter.

I had a few teachers who were very uptight about certain issues like discipline or sexuality, but their attitudes weren't representative of the community as a whole, and, in fact, the community sometimes took serious action against such teachers and their attitudes.

Sometimes certain types of social disapproval or discouragement could be a little too heavy, but they were generally more preventative measures than punitive (for example, sometimes the warnings to teens about risking ruining their lives by having sex were a bit too severe, but when a girl would actually become pregnant at too young an age, people were no longer scornful, but helpful).

Children were always encouraged to follow their dreams and to look at life's challenges as chances to excel. People were proud of themselves and of their neighbors. The "folks next door" were, more often than not, good friends who could be counted on for intelligent conversation, humor, wise advice when needed, and immediate help in any emergency, no matter how large or small.

Success wasn't thought of as necessarily related to a geographical location, but as being possible anywhere -- one didn't need to go to Minneapolis, Chicago or New York to "be someone," and many people I've known have certainly demonstrated that to be true: they've been mind-bogglingly successful in a variety of professions while continuing to reside in or around the "old villages" that their families have been a part of for generations (some extending as far back as the original settlers of the area). They're not fearful or resentful of the "skyline of New York," there's just no reason for them to want to live near it.

Occasionally there were jealousies or situations in which people might have uncharacteristically resented the greatness or success of others, but, getting back to the issue of how self-esteem might relate to how people react to things, the few people who seemed to be more permanently unhappy or emotionally insecure in the towns that I grew up in usually didn't react negatively to heroes or to the type of things that Rand listed as worthy of admiration. Instead of fearing or resenting great people, for example, they tended to act as if they deserved to be ranked among them. They seemed to view themselves in significantly higher regard than what their skills or accomplishments would merit. Some of them were gifted in certain areas, but nowhere near as much as they wanted to believe, or as much as they wanted others to believe (I see similarities to many people in the Objectivist movement, including Rand herself -- there are areas in which she seems to have expected that she didn't need to know anything about a subject before having her opinions on it taken very seriously).

Also, I'm now wondering how we would define what a "heroic man" is, and what would be considered expressions of fear, guilt or resentment in response to heroic men. As far as I recall, despite Rand's apparent love of her concept of heroic men, there were a lot of great, real-life creators, thinkers, and their creations or accomplishments for which she expressed little more than disdain. Would that be an example of a general tendency to resent "heroic men"?

J

Edited November 21, 2007 by Jonathan

[Brant Gaede]

Occasionally there were jealousies or situations in which people might have uncharacteristically resented the greatness or success of others, but, getting back to the issue of how self-esteem might relate to how people react to things, the few people who seemed to be more permanently unhappy or emotionally insecure in the towns that I grew up in usually didn't react negatively to heroes or to the type of things that Rand listed as worthy of admiration. Instead of fearing or resenting great people, for example, they tended to act as if they deserved to be ranked among them. They seemed to view themselves in significantly higher regard than what their skills or accomplishments would merit. Some of them were gifted in certain areas, but nowhere near as much as they wanted to believe, or as much as they wanted others to believe (I see similarities to many people in the Objectivist movement, including Rand herself -- there are areas in which she seems to have expected that she didn't need to know anything about a subject before having her opinions on it taken very seriously).

Also, I'm now wondering how we would define what a "heroic man" is, and what would be considered expressions of fear, guilt or resentment in response to heroic men. As far as recall, despite Rand's apparent love of her concept of heroic men, there were a lot of great, real-life creators, thinkers, and their creations or accomplishments for which she expressed little more than disdain. Would that be an example of a general tendency to resent "heroic men"?

For Rand and her opinions, she generally didn't, not always, opine out of ignorance. She tended to defer to experts. There were some exceptions, notably an article she wrote about "the missing link." Of course, when it came to philosophy and fiction she was the expert. She was very bad when she issued blanket condemnations against American Indians or blanket celebrations of 19th C. industrialists, etc.

What a "heroic man is" is to be described, not defined. There is too much in the concept, including "heroic woman."

You are a sensitive observer, but it is very hard to judge someone's self-esteem, even one's own. And I question whether high and low self-esteem are necessarily antipodes for I suspect "low self-esteem" is frequently something else with the same symptoms. One can even be depressed while having a high opinion of oneself. Is it productive to have a low opinion of oneself just because one is depressed?

I'm puzzled by your interest in the few unhappy as opposed to the many who weren't. Did you observe their reactions?

--Brant

[studiodekadent]

I will certainly agree with many people here that Rand's aesthetically-derived generalizations of people's psychologies are deeply unfair.

I am a goth. Rand would probably take one look at my appearance and declare I have a "malevolent universe" complex. She would listen to my music, with its pounding and distorted percussion, and allege that I am listening to primitive music with a time signature designed to lull me away from abstract thought and send me into a mindless Dionysian trance. She would hear the horror-movie melodies that I enjoy and say I believe misery was the purpose of life.

Needless to say, I think that the practice of trying to ascertain someone's subconscious premises by looking at their artistic taste rather than what they say they believe is terrible. It turns everyone into philosophical interrogators, grilling their 'friends' for 'death premises,' breaking up trust between people. "You like (insert song here)?!!!?!?! Why? Didn't you read the Romantic Manifesto? What kind of malevolent sense of life makes you like (insert song here)?!?!??!?!?". Eventually one will not even talk about one's artistic tastes for fear of being hauled in front of the inquisition for having a "wrong" sense of life.

While I agree with the Objectivist concept of a sense of life, I believe that the theory of its development is utterly oversimplified. If it is only present convictions that craft it, then how do you explain Objectivists like myself? As I said once before, I think that things like how one comes to one's convictions is an influence, as well as one's social world (i.e. not just the real world and your relationship with it, but your social world and relationship with it). Rand knew how living in a world hostile towards you can twist you up inside and fill you with venom, she should not have pretended that it does not occur to heroes.

[Brant Gaede]

I will certainly agree with many people here that Rand's aesthetically-derived generalizations of people's psychologies are deeply unfair.

I am a goth. Rand would probably take one look at my appearance and declare I have a "malevolent universe" complex. She would listen to my music, with its pounding and distorted percussion, and allege that I am listening to primitive music with a time signature designed to lull me away from abstract thought and send me into a mindless Dionysian trance. She would hear the horror-movie melodies that I enjoy and say I believe misery was the purpose of life.

Needless to say, I think that the practice of trying to ascertain someone's subconscious premises by looking at their artistic taste rather than what they say they believe is terrible. It turns everyone into philosophical interrogators, grilling their 'friends' for 'death premises,' breaking up trust between people. "You like (insert song here)?!!!?!?! Why? Didn't you read the Romantic Manifesto? What kind of malevolent sense of life makes you like (insert song here)?!?!??!?!?". Eventually one will not even talk about one's artistic tastes for fear of being hauled in front of the inquisition for having a "wrong" sense of life.

While I agree with the Objectivist concept of a sense of life, I believe that the theory of its development is utterly oversimplified. If it is only present convictions that craft it, then how do you explain Objectivists like myself? As I said once before, I think that things like how one comes to one's convictions is an influence, as well as one's social world (i.e. not just the real world and your relationship with it, but your social world and relationship with it). Rand knew how living in a world hostile towards you can twist you up inside and fill you with venom, she should not have pretended that it does not occur to heroes.

What's a goth? I could look it up but I suspect what I find and what you think aren't the same.

She would turn your music off; it isn't what her music was. Maybe vice versa? So what, one way or the other?

While I appreciate your criticisms of Rand, might not you be too much about her?

--Brant

[studiodekadent]

What's a goth? I could look it up but I suspect what I find and what you think aren't the same.

By "goth" I am referring to the subculture known for its taste in dark clothing, angry and/or depressing and/or deeply personal music (including genres like Industrial, Darkwave etc), and the like.

She would turn your music off; it isn't what her music was. Maybe vice versa? So what, one way or the other?

The problem I have is inferring someone's philosophical beliefs from their music taste. My allegation was that Rand would say I have incorrect beliefs owing to my music tastes. Since I am an Objectivist and agree with Rand's philosophical principles, the practice of declaring music taste as indicative of philosophical principles (exclusively) is severely flawed. Since I find Rand's "Tiddilywink Music" (as described in PAR) to be annoying, I probably would be accused by her of psychological perversion.

[Chris Grieb]

I hadn't looked at this tread so I missed Barbara's moving description of her early life in Canada. You forget that Sinclair Lewis's Main Street was very true to life.

I was thinking when I attended NBI and as I remember all the students dressed and acted in the same way. I hope the last poster will stick to his guns and not be intimidated.

[studiodekadent]

I was thinking when I attended NBI and as I remember all the students dressed and acted in the same way. I hope the last poster will stick to his guns and not be intimidated.

Believe me, I plan on sticking to those guns.

[mvir9]

What's a goth? I could look it up but I suspect what I find and what you think aren't the same.

By "goth" I am referring to the subculture known for its taste in dark clothing, angry and/or depressing and/or deeply personal music (including genres like Industrial, Darkwave etc), and the like.

She would turn your music off; it isn't what her music was. Maybe vice versa? So what, one way or the other?

The problem I have is inferring someone's philosophical beliefs from their music taste. My allegation was that Rand would say I have incorrect beliefs owing to my music tastes. Since I am an Objectivist and agree with Rand's philosophical principles, the practice of declaring music taste as indicative of philosophical principles (exclusively) is severely flawed. Since I find Rand's "Tiddilywink Music" (as described in PAR) to be annoying, I probably would be accused by her of psychological perversion.

studiodekadent:

I know exactly what you mean, and I agree with you on your assumptions. As a "rock" girl, several Objectivists have deemed my taste in music as inferior, denoting some philosophical weakness in me. Honestly, I think it is amusing that they would presume to understand my philosophical depth based on my musical tastes. Little do they know that I adore many genres of music . . . including classical, musical theatre, etc. Actually, I would probably be accused of being schizophrenic if these people saw my CD collection.

Having read Rand's Romantic Manifesto several times, I also believe that she would denounce your musical tastes (yep, mine too). Then again, as wonderful as Rand was (and is in legacy), she is not a god. The one thing she had absolutely correct, and something that would override her presumptions on our musical tastes, is that every person should use his mind to its fullest capacity. Never act without thinking; never assume that another person knows better than you. You have used your mind to determine your musical interests. Now -- don't assume that Rand would know better than you about what your musical interests say about you.

The only point that matters to me (regardless of what the Objectivist hard-liners think) is that I'm different for well chosen reasons -- I'm not simply different for the sake of being different. Obviously, your case is much the same.

Oh . . . Happy Thanksgiving!

(Quick edit for a typo) ;)

Edited November 21, 2007 by Virginia Murr

[Chris Grieb]

Virginia; Excellent post.

I think one should listen to one own mind and not follow Ayn Rand blindly on any issue. Or anyone else for that matter.

The point was sometimes made that if Howard Roark had actually attended NBI he probably would have been shunned.

A philosophy of individualism should not be afraid of individuals.

[Jonathan]

I'm puzzled by your interest in the few unhappy as opposed to the many who weren't. Did you observe their reactions?

I'm generally much more interested in those who are happy, but I'm also interested the idea of belief, which can apply to both the happy and unhappy (or to the strong and weak, or however you want to put it). Whether it's a god, some other external fantasy, or an exaggerated self-image, it seems that in order to work, such psychological devices must be believed completely. But believing in them also seems to almost inevitably lead to using them as weapons, which brings them into contact with others' beliefs, which risks destroying one or both belief systems. That's interesting enough, but what currently intrigues me is when someone is in possession of two conflicting Dumbo's feathers -- I guess you could say that a single, lumbering, airborne elephant faced with the predicament of which feather to abandon is more fascinating to me than two individuals warring with each others' beliefs.

J

Happy Thanksgibbon, everyone!