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