Why is Objectivism Not Spreading, While Ayn Rand is Wildly Popular?

[BaalChatzaf]

Generally speaking, 18th century Americans were more philosophically astute than their contemporaries in France.

The French Revolution was a good revolution gone bad. In its early stages, it followed the American example in many respects. But the Ancien Regime was much more firmly entrenched in France than it ever was in America, and this caused a number of problems that Americans didn't face.

The French were considerably more in the thrall of abstractions than were the Americans. The French Revolution reached a fever pitch in the period 1794-1795 when between 14,000 and 40,000 people were slaughtered all in the name of Liberty, Fraternity and Equality, all high philosophical abstractions. The Declaration of the Rights of Man did not slow down the vertical motion of the blade of La Machine, the National Razor. This philosophically induced insanity was finally stopped after the execution of Robespierre and the assumption of power by Bonaparte. Since all this craziness happened in just five years I seriously doubt that limitations of terms of office matter much, one way or the other.

Meanwhile most Americans were trying to figure out a way of making their currency sound and getting along in the ordinary pursuits of life. France produced Robespierre and America produced Franklin, Adams, Madison, Jefferson and the like. Robespierre was philosophically pure and (therefore) dangerous to human life.

Philosophy, like revenge is a dish best eaten cold.

Ba'al Chatzaf

[George H. Smith]

Generally speaking, 18th century Americans were more philosophically astute than their contemporaries in France.

The French Revolution was a good revolution gone bad. In its early stages, it followed the American example in many respects. But the Ancien Regime was much more firmly entrenched in France than it ever was in America, and this caused a number of problems that Americans didn't face.

The French were considerably more in the thrall of abstractions than were the Americans. The French Revolution reached a fever pitch in the period 1794-1795 when between 14,000 and 40,000 people were slaughtered all in the name of Liberty, Fraternity and Equality, all high philosophical abstractions. The Declaration of the Rights of Man did not slow down the vertical motion of the blade of La Machine, the National Razor. This philosophically induced insanity was finally stopped after the execution of Robespierre and the assumption of power by Bonaparte. Since all this craziness happened in just five years I seriously doubt that limitations of terms of office matter much, one way or the other.

Meanwhile most Americans were trying to figure out a way of making their currency sound and getting along in the ordinary pursuits of life. France produced Robespierre and America produced Franklin, Adams, Madison, Jefferson and the like. Robespierre was philosophically pure and (therefore) dangerous to human life.

Philosophy, like revenge is a dish best eaten cold.

Ba'al Chatzaf

You are giving the standard Burkean line, much of which is crap. I may have more to say about this later.

Ghs

[BaalChatzaf]

You are giving the standard Burkean line, much of which is crap. I may have more to say about this later.

Ghs

Really? I had no idea. Well I am not the only person who has a sane and balanced view of the value of philosophy. I do not follow Burke. I am more in the school of Richard P. Feynman.

Ba'al Chatzaf

[George H. Smith]

I don't have the time now to go into much detail about the French Revolution, so I am posting my article that was published in the Encyclopedia of Libertarianism (2008, edited by Ronald Hamowy).

Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (1789)

George H. Smith

On August 26, 1789, the “Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen” was adopted by National Assembly of France. Also called the Constituent Assembly, owing to its self-appointed task of framing a constitution for the French nation, this body began as one of three estates, or orders, within the Estates-General, which had been convened earlier that year (May 5) by Louis XVI. These three orders were the nobility, the clergy, and all other French citizens, known collectively as the Third Estate.

This remarkable event – the first Estates-General since 1614 – was precipitated by the bankruptcy of the French government. The need to raise revenue generated a power struggle between the crown and the nobility (especially the reform-minded Parlement of Paris), and both sides decided they had something to gain by convening an Estates-General. But events soon took on a life of their own as both the king and the aristocracy found themselves unable to control the course of events. The French Revolution was underway.

The Third Estate became a revolutionary body on June 17, when, by a majority of 491 to 89, it christened itself the National Assembly. Although deputies from the other two orders were invited to join the National Assembly – and were later ordered to do so by Louis XVI, after he had lost a significant political battle -- this assumption of political sovereignty by the Third Estate was a clear sign that ancient legal privileges would not be permitted to stand. Indeed, many members of the nobility and clergy strongly supported the abolition of feudal privileges and other radical reforms that were about to follow.

The Declaration of the Rights of Man was intended to serve as a preamble to the French Constitution of 1791, which established a constitutional monarchy. (A purely republican form of government awaited the Constitution of 1793, after the “treason” of Louis XVI had led to his execution and the abolition of monarchy.). Historians continue to debate the extent to which the Declaration was influenced by American precedents, such as George Mason’s Virginia Declaration of Rights (1776) and various state constitutions adopted during the 1780s. The Marquis de Lafayette, who emphasized the need for a Declaration of Rights and played a prominent role in its drafting, was among the 8000 Frenchmen who had participated in the American Revolution. Moreover, key documents in the struggle, such as Thomas Paine’s Common Sense and various state constitutions, had been translated into French and were widely read.

Some historians maintain that this is a case of correlation rather than causation. As the historian George Rudé observed, “both Americans and Frenchmen acknowledged a common debt to the ‘natural law’ school of philosophy, in particular to Locke, Montesquieu, and Rousseau.” At the very least, however, the American experience provided an inspiration and example, if not an exact model, for the French Declaration of Rights. According to John-Joseph Mounier, a member of the National Assembly who contributed to the Declaration, the American Revolution had instilled in the French “a general restlessness and desire for change.” Americans had shown that it was possible to begin anew and construct a government on rational principles.

The Declaration, which contains seventeen articles, is a short document. The preamble describes it as a “solemn declaration [of] the natural, inalienable, and sacred rights of man.” Failures to protect these rights are the “sole causes of public misfortunes and the corruption of governments.” By codifying the basic rights and duties of citizens, the Declaration will legitimize the new French government. It will cause the legislative and executive powers to be more respected by providing citizens with “simple and incontestable principles” which they can use to evaluate the justice and social utility of governmental institutions and actions. .

Article 1 begins with the statement: “Men are born and remain free and equal in rights.” It should be noted that the words “man” and “men,” when used in this context, referred to all individuals, male and female alike. Both men and women were viewed as possessing equal natural rights in the Lockean tradition. Gender inequalities, such as the inability to vote – which the Constitution of 1791 did nothing to rectify -- were viewed as an issue of civil rather than natural rights.

Unlike some versions of social contract theory, in which natural rights are irrevocably transferred or surrendered to government, this passage suggests (1) that the power to enforce rights, rather than the rights themselves, are delegated to government; and (2) that this “executive power” (as Locke called it) may be reclaimed by individuals in those cases where a government becomes despotic or tyrannical.

The purpose of government is to preserve the “natural and imprescriptible rights of…liberty, property, security, and resistance to oppression.” The natural rights of individuals are limited by the equal rights of other individuals. “Liberty consists in being able to do anything that does not injure another,” and the primary function of law is to define and specify these limits. Natural rights thus constitute a standard of public utility that determines the common good. The law may forbid only those actions that are “harmful to society.” All actions not expressly forbidden by law are permitted, and no one may be compelled to do anything which is not mandated by law.

Although much of the Declaration may broadly be described as Lockean, another influence -- that of J.J. Rousseau – is also evident at various points, such as in Article 3 (“The source of all sovereignty resides essentially in the nation”) and Article 6 (”The law is the expression of the general will.”)

Conservative critics of the French Revolution, such as J.L. Talmon, have focused on these elements to support a critique that was first proposed by Edmund Burke in Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790). According to these critics, the references to national sovereignty and the “general will” contain the seeds of totalitarian democracy – a tendency that would later manifest itself in events such as the Reign of Terror and the one-party rule of the Jacobins. This criticism is a bit misplaced, however. The claim that sovereignty resides in the nation was intended to rebut the doctrine of absolute monarchy, according to which sovereignty resides solely in the king. To state that no body or individual “can exercise authority that does not explicitly proceed” from this source is merely to affirm, if in a somewhat roundabout fashion, the Lockean principle that all legitimate political authority must be based on the consent of the governed.

The “general will,” an expression that appears only once in the Declaration, was closely associated with Rousseau, who failed to make its meaning clear. But we at least know what Rousseau did not mean, since he explicitly cautions against confusing the “general will” with the will of the majority.

Although many deputies in the National Assembly were familiar with Rousseau’s writings, it is unlikely that these practical men -- many of whom were lawyers -- intended to inject his abstruse notion the “general will” into the Declaration. It is more likely that their notion of the “general will” was based on the treatment of the Abbé Sieyès (an active member of the Assembly) in What is the Third Estate? Throughout this highly influential tract (published early in 1789), Sieyès expressly equates the “general will” with majority rule. Although Rousseau, who had died eleven years earlier, would not have been happy with this simplistic interpretation of his theory, this is probably what most members of the National Assembly understood by the “general will.”

When viewed in this light, this mention of the “general will” becomes far less sinister than the representations of its many critics would have us believe – especially when we keep in mind that the Declaration was drafted specifically to establish limits to the power of government. The government envisioned in the Declaration is far closer to the limited constitutional government of John Locke than to the totalitarian democracy that is often attributed, whether rightly or wrongly, to Rousseau. Indeed, Article 16 states that a “society in which the guarantee of rights is not secured, or the separation of powers not clearly established, has no constitution.”

The rule of law is a recurring theme in the Declaration; nine of the seventeen articles refer to it. This is understandable, given the many legal privileges and inequities of the old regime. All citizens have the right to participate in the making of law, whether personally or through their representatives. All citizens are equal in the eyes of the law, which should be applied impartially regardless of social distinctions. The holding of public offices will be determined solely on the basis of “virtues and talents.”

No person may be accused, arrested, or detained except under the forms prescribed by law, and those public officials who abuse their power should be held accountable. Those legal punishments alone are justifiable which are “strictly and evidently necessary” for the protection of rights, and no one may be tried for violating a law that was not in effect at the time of the offense. Moreover, “Every man is presumed innocent until he has been found guilty,” and only the minimal amount of force necessary to secure an arrest is warranted.

Freedom of religion is guaranteed, “provided their expression does not trouble the public order established by law.” This proviso is probably owing to the influence of the Catholic clergy. The Constitution of 1791 did not abolish laws against blasphemy, nor did it establish a separation of church and state.

A similar proviso is attached to “one of the most precious rights of man,” i.e., “the free expression of thought and opinions.” Every citizen is free to speak, write, or print what he pleases, “subject to accountability for abuse of this freedom in the cases determined by law.” This broad qualification, however troublesome it may seem, may have been intended merely to accommodate libel laws and similar measures that are found even today in countries that pride themselves on free speech.

The Declaration ends by stressing the importance of property rights: “Property being an inviolable and sacred right, no one can be deprived of it, unless legally established public necessity obviously demands it, and upon condition of just and prior indemnity.”

Ghs

[George H. Smith]

You are giving the standard Burkean line, much of which is crap. I may have more to say about this later.

Ghs

Really? I had no idea. Well I am not the only person who has a sane and balanced view of the value of philosophy. I do not follow Burke. I am more in the school of Richard P. Feynman.

Ba'al Chatzaf

The Burkean line has become the standard conservative line, as echoed by pundits such as Glenn Beck.

The French Revolution turned sour for a number of reasons, some of which were beyond anyone's control. To focus, as you do, on Robespierre and the Reign of Terror, is to distort what the revolution was really about. Moreover, the Reign of Terror began in 1793 and was not actually part of the Revolution itself, which began in 1789.

To contend that the French were more immersed than the Americans in abstract philosophy is nonsense. Revolutions are always dangerous, since they leave power vacuums that can quickly be filled by power-seekers. Americans already had established institutions, such as their local governments, that they could fall back on, but the French were not as fortunate. Moreover, historians estimate that the American Revolution generated more refugees per capita than did the French Revolution, as American loyalists fled by the thousands to escape persecution. There were many ugly aspects to the American Revolution,but, fortunately, mass executions were not among them.

Ghs

[Xray]

I was referring to the widespread use of the word "capitalism." It was not that long ago when even many free-market advocates avoided it.

Did they use a more 'euphemistic' term instead to avoid the negative connotation associated with 'capitalism'?

Angela:

George was specifically pointing out that people were not praising capitalism years ago whether they were profiting from it or not. Therefore, your statement does not follow what his point was making.

Adam,

You are right. Point taken

But the praise issue is quite complex.

Back in those times of the student revolution in the 1960s, condemning capitalism was quite en vogue. The students on the left, especially the Marxists, saw themselves an intellectual avant-garde in society, obviously believing that capitalism was in its end-phase, careening toward disaster.

I believe that this avant-garde feeling the leftists projected even influenced those who did not share their political position.

Maybe they did not want to be labeled as backward, outdated or whatever if they dared to praise capitalism in that heated social climate of the sixties.

Now, with Marxism dead as a doornail, one can observe the opposite phenomenon. The students of today don't have the 'protest potential' of the generations of the sixties. My daughter told me that many of her student colleagues dress as if they were already successful business executives, and she simply cannot imagine her own parents running around in parka coats or hippie clothes back then (we thought we were soo cool though, lol).

you are welcome as to the crowd scenario- now how do you exit a car, safely if an live electrical wire is across the hood?

By trying not to come in contact with any metal parts of the car?

Edited September 20, 2011 by Xray

[George H. Smith]

you are welcome as to the crowd scenario- now how do you exit a car, safely if an live electrical wire is across the hood?

By trying not to come in contact with any metal parts of the car?

Not that it matters all that much, but I didn't write this question.

Ghs

[George H. Smith]

I was referring to the widespread use of the word "capitalism." It was not that long ago when even many free-market advocates avoided it.

Did they use a more 'euphemistic' term instead to avoid the negative connotation associated with 'capitalism'?

I don't wish to make too much of this, but in my experience many libertarian-types preferred the term "free market."

One reason given for this was that the word "capitalism" was supposedly coined by Karl Marx. I haven't looked into this issue for some years, but I don't think this claim is true.

Certainly the word "capitalist" was in use before Marx came along. A curiosity of history -- one that demonstrates that we must always understand the historical context when considering the meaning of a word -- is that early free market advocates sometimes used "capitalist" as a pejorative term. Why? Well, because like "stockjobber," "projector," and similar words, a "capitalist" was sometimes regarded as a person who seeks to make money by investing specifically in government projects, such as the Bank of England.

The first large scale industries in modern Europe were not free-market enterprises. In the 17th century, for example, the French government subsidized large factories that produced war matériel and various luxuries for the nobility. Similarly, after the Whigs took power on the heels of the Glorious Revolution of 1688, they established the Bank of England. The gimmick here, which Adam Smith discussed in considerable detail, was the "sinking fund." This was a perpetual national debt that would never be paid off. Instead, wealthy investors would purchase stocks in the debt, for which they would receive healthy and unending interest payments. These investments were guaranteed by future taxes, so there was little if any risk involved.

The "Real Whigs" (or Radical Whigs) detested this arrangement, which they regarded as nothing more than a scheme to make political favorites rich at the expense of taxpayers. They frequently called the investors in the national debt "stockjobbers," and, later on, I have even seen them called "capitalists," because they provided capital to the government. Thus did these and similar words take on negative connotations over time.

Ghs

[Selene]

But the praise issue is quite complex.

Back in those times of the student revolution in the 1960s, condemning capitalism was quite en vogue. The students on the left, especially the Marxists, saw themselves an intellectual avant-garde in society, obviously believing that capitalism was in its end-phase, careening toward disaster.

I believe that this avant-garde feeling the leftists projected even influenced those who did not share their political position.

Maybe they did not want to be labeled as backward, outdated or whatever if they dared to praise capitalism in that heated social climate of the sixties.

Now, with Marxism dead as a doornail, one can observe the opposite phenomenon. The students of today don't have the 'protest potential' of the generations of the sixties. My daughter told me that many of her student colleagues dress as if they were already successful business executives, and she simply cannot imagine her own parents running around in parka coats or hippie clothes back then (we thought we were soo cool though, lol).

Angela:

I agree with you that the "praise issue" is rather "complicated," rather than complex, primarily because of the assault on language, meaning and rhetoric.

During the '60's, at least here in the US, there was an assault on language within the "student" movement, which was heavily infiltrated by agents from abroad, as well as agents from within our own US government.

However, the term "capitalism" was specifically defined in "straw-man" terms by the left. Similarly, to the way "Marxism" is misused today. However, statism has never changed, and whether left or right, seeks centralized power over the individual which is the essential issue of all times and all places.

Therefore, despite your comment that "Marxism" is "...as dead as a doornail," it's bastard child statism is alive and well and continues to encyst the administrative state. A perfect example, is how our US regulatory state has now equipped itself with internal "SWAT" teams that function out of each agency, for example:

1) the Gibson Guitar raid;

2) the SWAT team sent to arrest a woman who had allegedly "defaulted" on her student loan; and

3) the raid on the Amish milk producers.

I do agree that a segment of young folks do have a changed gestalt in terms of approaching business. My daughter is in her last year of college and has a clear idea of business. She excelled in school, good genes and she has a strong critical thinking element to her mind, good parenting helped that aspect.

However, there is also a segment of young people that are just as dedicated to taking down the "capitalist system" as when we were coming up. They define it as the corporations, the bankers, etc.

In essence, their targets are accurate, but their methodological analysis is as dysfunctional as modern "education" could possible make it.

And these are just a few recent examples.

As to your daughter, it might be that her gestalt has been significantly impacted by you and your husbands example.

Adam

As to the car scenario in another post, but you have the essentials down pat. The mistake that some folks have made is not holding onto metal and stepping out of the vehicle which, unfortunately completes the circuit when they step onto the ground. Essentially, you need to stand on the rocker panels, which is where they hid the heroin in the French Connection movie, and jump, tuck and roll to be 100% sure.

[George H. Smith]

Adam, You are right. Point taken But the praise issue is quite complex. Back in those times of the student revolution in the 1960s, condemning capitalism was quite en vogue. The students on the left, especially the Marxists, saw themselves an intellectual avant-garde in society, obviously believing that capitalism was in its end-phase, careening toward disaster. I believe that this avant-garde feeling the leftists projected even influenced those who did not share their political position. Maybe they did not want to be labeled as backward, outdated or whatever if they dared to praise capitalism in that heated social climate of the sixties. Now, with Marxism dead as a doornail, one can observe the opposite phenomenon. The students of today don't have the 'protest potential' of the generations of the sixties....

There is considerable truth in your observation. There was a certain radical chic -- and there still is, especially among those who misleadingly call themselves "Left Libertarians" -- involved in the reluctance of some libertarians to defend "capitalism." The standard argument here was that when most people, including Leftists, use the word "capitalism," they are actually referring to state capitalism, not to free market capitalism.

This is legitimate distinction. There is such a thing as state capitalism, a label that applies to much of our economy today. Rand preferred to speak of a "mixed economy" rather than "state capitalism," the latter being a veritable contradiction in terms for her.

Despite the quasi-legitimate concern of some libertarians about confusion over the meaning of "capitalism," I think you are right. I think a concern for political correctness played a significant role. Again, I don't wish to overstate the case. I am basing my conclusions mainly on my personal interactions over the years with thousands of libertarians. You can pick up a lot in personal conversations that might not be apparent in articles and books.

Ghs

[George H. Smith]

A brief follow-up....

The poet Percy Shelley (the son-in-law of anarchist William Godwin) wrote an excellent critique of the Bank of England, paper money, and the national debt. He has sometimes been called a "socialist" for his efforts, but he was actually a libertarian in this respect.

For an excellent discussion of Shelley's views, one that shows that Shelley's criticisms were not socialistic at all but rather libertarian, see The Poet as Economist: Shelley's critique of Paper Money and the British National Debt, by Paul A. Cantor. This is available online, but when the pdf file comes up, I cannot find a URL. Google will quickly take you to the piece.

Ghs

[Xray]

you are welcome as to the crowd scenario- now how do you exit a car, safely if an live electrical wire is across the hood?

By trying not to come in contact with any metal parts of the car?

Not that it matters all that much, but I didn't write this question.

Ghs

Sorry about the mistake. I'll correct it.

As to your daughter, it might be that her gestalt has been significantly impacted by you and your husbands example.

Since she's a good deal more 'fashion-conscious' than her parents, we probably were no 'positive' role models (seen from her perspective) here.

Edited September 20, 2011 by Xray

[Xray]

Is it possible at all to make AS into a convincing movie? Imo, no.

The basic problem is after the first run of The John Galt Line the story is a downer. The entire idea of the men of the mind going on strike and triumphing over the evil altruist-collectivist world is its gross passive-aggressive behavior, best represented by the actions and character of Francisco d'Anconia, who used to be my favorite character. It's a revenge fantasy readers can indulge in, not a broad movie audience which can only sit there thinking WTF? Surrendering the world to evil-doers to demonstrate the impotence of evil? According to the premise of the story everybody ends up with what they want--the good guys and the bad guys--the destruction of the old order. If the bad guys don't survive--well, now, they never intended to, did they?

--Brant

Interesting points

[sjw]

Is it possible at all to make AS into a convincing movie? Imo, no.

The basic problem is after the first run of The John Galt Line the story is a downer. The entire idea of the men of the mind going on strike and triumphing over the evil altruist-collectivist world is its gross passive-aggressive behavior, best represented by the actions and character of Francisco d'Anconia, who used to be my favorite character. It's a revenge fantasy readers can indulge in, not a broad movie audience which can only sit there thinking WTF? Surrendering the world to evil-doers to demonstrate the impotence of evil? According to the premise of the story everybody ends up with what they want--the good guys and the bad guys--the destruction of the old order. If the bad guys don't survive--well, now, they never intended to, did they?

--Brant

Interesting points

Wow Brant, interesting thoughts here, partly because I've had private conversations with friends along similar lines. My take on it is: If going on strike were a virtue, then what should have happened is that all great men in history went on strike. As Ayn Rand said, the man who invented fire was probably burned at the stake by the masses who didn't appreciate his initiative; most great men were faced with difficulties of this kind to some degree or another. So we'd have no Aristotle, no Galileo, no Newton, no Pasteur, earth-shattering advances of any kind. Do you think Galileo regretted the fact that he pursued a life of knowing, after knowing that it would cost him his liberty? I doubt it, and in any case, 100% of the blame for his fate lies with the surrounding culture, not with him.

A John Galt who made a motor that revolutionized power production, that had his invention taken without compensation, surely would still have the self-respect to be proud of his achievement, and this pride would be of more fundamental significance to him than the thievery of his fellow human beings, don't you think?

Shayne

[Brant Gaede]

Is it possible at all to make AS into a convincing movie? Imo, no.

The basic problem is after the first run of The John Galt Line the story is a downer. The entire idea of the men of the mind going on strike and triumphing over the evil altruist-collectivist world is its gross passive-aggressive behavior, best represented by the actions and character of Francisco d'Anconia, who used to be my favorite character. It's a revenge fantasy readers can indulge in, not a broad movie audience which can only sit there thinking WTF? Surrendering the world to evil-doers to demonstrate the impotence of evil? According to the premise of the story everybody ends up with what they want--the good guys and the bad guys--the destruction of the old order. If the bad guys don't survive--well, now, they never intended to, did they?

--Brant

Interesting points

Wow Brant, interesting thoughts here, partly because I've had private conversations with friends along similar lines. My take on it is: If going on strike were a virtue, then what should have happened is that all great men in history went on strike. As Ayn Rand said, the man who invented fire was probably burned at the stake by the masses who didn't appreciate his initiative; most great men were faced with difficulties of this kind to some degree or another. So we'd have no Aristotle, no Galileo, no Newton, no Pasteur, earth-shattering advances of any kind. Do you think Galileo regretted the fact that he pursued a life of knowing, after knowing that it would cost him his liberty? I doubt it, and in any case, 100% of the blame for his fate lies with the surrounding culture, not with him.

A John Galt who made a motor that revolutionized power production, that had his invention taken without compensation, surely would still have the self-respect to be proud of his achievement, and this pride would be of more fundamental significance to him than the thievery of his fellow human beings, don't you think?

Shayne

I surely overdid my remarks, but if Rand had been born in America the novel would have been quite different. There's a lot of Russian in it. Its conception and execution was pure genius with the baddies torturing the hero trying to make him run things to save their asses and James T. coming to understand he actually didn't want to live. Not sanctioning evil is extremely important and I'm afraid that that's what Greenspan ended up doing going to Washington though I doubt he meant too--and look at the mess he helped make!

--Brant

[sjw]

I surely overdid my remarks, but if Rand had been born in America the novel would have been quite different. There's a lot of Russian in it. Its conception and execution was pure genius with the baddies torturing the hero trying to make him run things to save their asses and James T. coming to understand he actually didn't want to live. Not sanctioning evil is extremely important and I'm afraid that that's what Greenspan ended up doing going to Washington though I doubt he meant too--and look at the mess he helped make!

--Brant

True, but it's not sanctioning evil to build a better motor even given that you're under various kinds of duress from your "fellow man"; rather, to discover and apply new fundamental truth is to exercise the essence of what makes you a human being. Managing fiat money is a different animal.

The best way to not sanction evil is to speak up against it. Hardly anyone does that, so the appearance is given that evil has morality on its side.

Shayne

[Xray]

Is it possible at all to make AS into a convincing movie? Imo, no.

The basic problem is after the first run of The John Galt Line the story is a downer. The entire idea of the men of the mind going on strike and triumphing over the evil altruist-collectivist world is its gross passive-aggressive behavior, best represented by the actions and character of Francisco d'Anconia, who used to be my favorite character. It's a revenge fantasy readers can indulge in, not a broad movie audience which can only sit there thinking WTF? Surrendering the world to evil-doers to demonstrate the impotence of evil? According to the premise of the story everybody ends up with what they want--the good guys and the bad guys--the destruction of the old order. If the bad guys don't survive--well, now, they never intended to, did they?

--Brant

I agree with your opinion about the first run of the JGL being the absoute highlight of the novel. Neither Galt's Gulch nor his speech nor his dramatic rescue can top it.

Many factors come together that make this scene so ingeniously brilliant; for example, its compelling realism. Imo Rand was far better at describing more 'realistic' events than she was at describing utopian scenarios like Galt's Gulch or scenes like Danneskjöld dashing through the window almost like Superman.

It's the non-realistic scenes that are going to pose a challenge for the filmmaker, and these scenes are yet to come in Parts 2 and 3. That hurdle cannot be taken imo.

As for the characters, several of them also have non-realistic traits.

In his book In Praise of Decadence J. Riggenbach speaks of "highly stylized and theatrical - even operatic - characters". (JR, IPOD, p. 55)

N. Branden's assessment is similar:

NB, http://nathanielbran...nd_hazards.html

Notice further—and this is especially true of “Atlas Shrugged”—how rarely you find the heroes and heroine talking to each other on a simple, human level without launching into philosophical sermons, so that personal experience always ends up being subordinated to philosophical abstractions. You can find this tendency even in the love scene between Galt and Dagny in the underground tunnels of Taggart Transcontinental, where we are given a brief moment of the intimately personal between them, and then, almost immediately after sexual intimacy, Galt is talking like a philosopher again. I have reason to believe that Galt has a great many imitators around the country and it’s driving spouses and partners crazy!

This is already quite an extreme reading experiece, but imagine what it means to put this on screen!

An audience might laugh at such abrupt switching from intimate love scenes to philosopical abstractions.

But if the director decides to leave out the 'speeches', those will be dissapointed who expected a genuine transfer of Rand's ideas in the film and will say the message has been 'diluted'.

So the director is between a rock and hard place here.

Edited September 22, 2011 by Xray

[Xray]

I surely overdid my remarks, but if Rand had been born in America the novel would have been quite different. There's a lot of Russian in it.

If Rand had been born in America, she would not have built up a resentment against the political system, and it was this resentment which provided a lot of 'fuel' for her literary work. So she probably would not have written such a novel at all.

Edited September 22, 2011 by Xray

[Brant Gaede]

Is it possible at all to make AS into a convincing movie? Imo, no.

The basic problem is after the first run of The John Galt Line the story is a downer. The entire idea of the men of the mind going on strike and triumphing over the evil altruist-collectivist world is its gross passive-aggressive behavior, best represented by the actions and character of Francisco d'Anconia, who used to be my favorite character. It's a revenge fantasy readers can indulge in, not a broad movie audience which can only sit there thinking WTF? Surrendering the world to evil-doers to demonstrate the impotence of evil? According to the premise of the story everybody ends up with what they want--the good guys and the bad guys--the destruction of the old order. If the bad guys don't survive--well, now, they never intended to, did they?

--Brant

I agree with your asssessment of the first run of th JGL being the absoute highlight of the novel. Neither Galt's Gulch nor his dramatic rescue can top it.

Many factors come together that make this scene so ingeniously brilliant; for example, its gripping realism. Imo Rand was far better at describing more 'realistic' events than she was at describing utopian scenarios like Galt's Gulch or scenes where Danneskjöld dashes through the window almost like Superman.

She actually drove a train and saw the inside workings of a steel mill and interviewed Robert Oppenheimer and all in the novel associated with such have great verisimilitude. She was a fantastic observer. The Fountainhead is full of evidence of that.

--Brant

Edited September 22, 2011 by Brant Gaede