The Radicalism of Objectivism

The Radicalism of Objectivism
by Ron Merrill

A Lecture Given at Reed College, April 26, 1997)

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Probably it is not a new experience for you to be addressed by an aging Sixties radical. As a veteran of the Objectivist movement I can certainly claim to be just that--and an unusual, and exceptionally radical, radical.

What does it mean to be "radical"? To be radical is to advocate or implement not just major but fundamental change or reform; literally, to get down to the "root." That is what Objectivism does.

Let me begin by doing something very Objectivist: defining what I am talking about. Objectivism is the name Ayn Rand chose for the philosophy she devised, and presented in her writings, including the extraordinary novel Atlas Shrugged. From the beginning her ideas have aroused enormous controversy. Across the political spectrum -- conservatives and communists, liberals and libertarians -- one repeatedly finds Ayn Rand depicted as the philosopher from hell, and her followers portrayed as mindless, robotic cultists.

What is the philosophy that has aroused such universal hostility? Objectivism teaches, in metaphysics, that reality exists and is objective, and, in epistemology, that one can achieve knowledge about reality by means of reason. In ethics, Objectivism preaches a rational egoism; in politics, it stresses natural rights and laissez-faire. None of these positions is particularly original; as David Kelley has pointed out, "the package as a whole is not too far from the views of many Enlightenment thinkers." Why, then, is it considered so radical? To understand, we must examine the most fundamental roots of Objectivism.

Ayn Rand herself said that her philosophy was contained in a single axiom: that existence exists. Elsewhere, she stated that: "If one recognizes the supremacy of reason and applies it consistently, all the rest follows." There is no contradiction here; we are merely looking at two sides of the same coin. On the obverse is the word "reality"; on the reverse is the word "reason". Neither can exist, or be understood, without the other.

Objectivism harks back to the axiomic approach of Aristotle; it was he who developed the metaphysics of objective reality and the laws of logic. In a sense, Objectivism is a postscript to Aristotle; it consists of the sentence, "And I mean it." Specifically, Objectivism holds as absolutes the twin principles of the Primacy of Existence and the Supremacy of Reason. What is truly distinctive -- and truly radical -- about Objectivism is that it sticks with these principles, with the attitude "price no object," no matter where they lead.

The Primacy of Existence is the principle that reality is objective -- that the world we perceive really exists, and exists independent of our perception of it. Philosophers describe this idea, often scornfully, as the "common sense" viewpoint on metaphysics. Yet, if we are to speak literally, "common sense" is exactly what it is not. For hardly anybody, it seems, actually believes in it.

In almost any gathering of people, if you make a controversial statement, you are going to be challenged with: "Who says so?" Not, "What is your evidence?" or, "How do you justify that?" but, "Who says so?" This is the implicit assertion of what Ayn Rand called "social metaphysics" -- the belief that reality is determined by what people think it is. Which people? Answers differ. Some think reality is whatever the majority believes; for them, "majority rule" has a significance far beyond the political. Others appeal to authority, whether it be the authority of an "expert", a politician, a priest, or these days, God help us, a television talk-show host.

Of course, those who believe that reality is determined by people's opinions face a problem: different people have different opinions. What if everybody in your neighborhood believes one thing -- but everybody in China believes something else? What if the priest at your church says one thing, but the priest at another church -- or the Ayatollah Khomeini -- says something entirely different? There's only one way out: if reality is socially determined, it must be subjective.

So then we hear, "That may be true for you, but it's not true for me." Reality, we are told, depends on social class, or on ethnic origin, or on "gender." Even scientific truth is socially determined, we are told by Thomas Kuhn and his followers. If we now believe that the earth revolves around the sun, that is merely because it is the current "paradigm" -- an implicit agreement among astronomers to accept it. It is, Kuhn says -- and I quote -- "no closer to reality" than the earlier "paradigm", that the sun revolves around the earth.

But when we deny the objectivity of reality, we deny the validity of logic. Logic, in Rand's words, is the non-contradictory identification of reality. But if reality can be one thing for me and another for you, contradiction is inevitable. Very well, then. Banish logic, and what is left? Emotion. For the subjectivist, ultimately reality boils down to his feelings. Reality is what he wants to be true -- or, sometimes, what he fears to be true. And more: The feelings of other people, and of groups of people, become crucially important, because they can determine reality. When we hear appeals -- or demands -- to be "sensitive" to the emotions of some social group or other, it is a reflection of the belief that those feelings actually determine reality for that particular group.

Objectivism takes the Primacy of Existence as axiomatic. That is, it is an inescapable principle which cannot be meaningfully denied. To say that the universe does not exist is a contradiction; if nothing exists, who is saying it? To assert that reality is not objective is a contradiction; the statement itself makes a claim of objective truth. To demand that the validity of logic be proved is a contradiction; if logic is not valid, proof is not possible.

Existence exists. Reality is, and is what it is in total disregard of what you or I or anybody or everybody believes it to be. Furthermore: "Existence is identity." To exist is to be something, as opposed to nothing. But to be something is to be some thing -- to be some specific thing, to have identity. To be, it must be itself -- or, as Rand puts it, "A is A."

To say that reality is objective is to say that it cannot contradict itself, that it is logical, that it makes sense. So the flip side of the Primacy of Existence is the Supremacy of Reason. Actually, to refer to it as the "supremacy" of reason is an understatement. It suggests that there are several ways to understand reality, of which reason is the best. But, to paraphrase Vince Lombardi: When it comes to understanding reality, reason isn't the most important thing -- it's the only thing.

Objectivism holds that reality can be known by reason, and only by reason. Now, it is important to understand that this epistemological principle reflects a metaphysical fact. Many philosophers, particularly Immanuel Kant and his followers, have taken the position that reason is a quality merely of the human mind. In this view, logical inference is dependent on "categories" -- ways of organizing knowledge that are built into our brains. Logic is a structure that we impose on reality by the way we think; creatures from another planet, whose brains were built differently, might have a different but equally valid logic, based on a different set of "categories."

Objectivism categorically rejects this position. Reason is in reality, not just in our heads. We don't "make" existence make sense; it makes sense all by itself. The universe is logical, and our conception of reason is a recognition of the logical structure of reality, not an artificial structure that we "impose" on our perception of reality.

Is this radical? It is indeed; it is very potent stuff, because this view asserts that there is such a thing as absolute truth. And in the academic world of the humanities, especially the field of philosophy, the idea of absolute truth is an absolute no-no.

Let's do a little thought experiment. Imagine that you are 18 years old, just starting college. You have decided that because of the importance, usefulness, and intrinsic interest of the field, you are going to major in chemistry. You are now, with joyful anticipation, attending your first college lecture in chemistry, and this is what you hear from your instructor:

Good morning, students. In this first lecture I want to tell you something about chemistry and what you are going to learn in this survey course. We will be taking up many important topics.

We will start with the earliest chemical theories, the ideas developed by the ancient Greeks. This will introduce you to some of the most fundamental questions of chemistry, including the great issue that has been debated for over two thousand years and still perplexes chemists: Do atoms exist? From there, we will go on to survey the opinions of the Roman metallurgists, and then discuss the exciting ideas of the alchemists. Many of you have pre-conceived notions about the Philosopher's Stone and the Elixir of Life; you will find that these issues are not as clear-cut as you probably think they are. In the laboratory portion of this course you will engage in dialectical interaction with your fellow students as you attempt to prove or disprove that lead can be turned into gold.

Then we will turn to the modern period of chemistry, discussing the major controversies that chemists currently argue over: The phlogiston theory vs. the believers in oxygen; Daltonism and the arguments against the Law of Constant Proportions; vitalism and its opponents. We'll also look at thermodynamics, and ask: Do steam engines really work? You will find that this question and the other important questions of chemistry are not settled, and probably never will be settled. . .

What I have been describing, of course, is chemistry--as it would be if chemists behaved like philosophers. Fortunately, they don't. Chemists, and others who work in the "hard sciences," have a solid basis of truth on which to work. Certain facts and laws become established, and they are built upon to develop further knowledge.

Now, it is true that skeptical philosophy has corrupted scientific epistemology. Scientists who ought to know better still solemnly proclaim that "theories cannot be proved, only disproved." But this is only lip service. No working scientist really believes that it might someday turn out, after further investigation, that the planets do not revolve around the sun.

Contrast this with the situation in philosophy. Take, for instance, a typical philosophy text such as Philosophy: The Basic Issues, edited by Klemke, Kline, and Hollinger. This is an anthology in which each major philosophical issue is discussed in two papers from opposing sides. You might think from this that philosophers agree on nothing, but that is not quite true. In the Introduction, the student is told of the one, single, philosophical doctrine which clearly is considered not subject to debate:

A scientific question can be settled "once and for all," or at least with a high degree of probability. A philosophical question cannot, or at least it is not immediately apparent how it could be.

Of all the realms of knowledge, philosophy is the most important. It provides us with the fundamental guidance we need in order to function as reasoning beings and fulfill our lives. Yet philosophy, we are told, can teach us nothing that we can rely on.

It is ironic to consider the way in which philosophy has developed by a process of intellectual subtraction. Historically, philosophy started out as the study of everything that could be known by reason (as opposed to faith, intuition, and so on). Aristotle wrote extensively on physics, biology, psychology, and other subjects of the sort. Eventually, though, these fields of knowledge came to be separated out as "natural philosophy." Later the terminology changed again, and they were called "science," so that the only remnant of a connection is that scientists are still awarded the degree of "Doctor of Philosophy." It's really rather peculiar: As soon as people in some field really start to know what they're talking about -- as soon as they have rational premises -- as soon as they're dealing with real issues in an intelligible way instead of spouting solemn amphigory -- that field of study stops being part of philosophy! It becomes a science, like chemistry or biology. What's left over, the sludge, is defined as "philosophy."

Because of its radical rejection of relativism and subjectivism, Objectivism is able to lead the way to developing philosophy as a science. Objectivism asserts that philosophical questions can be settled once and for all; that there are two sides to every issue -- the right side and the wrong side. We aim at the day when philosophy will no longer be envisioned as an arena for contending schools of thought, none of which can ever permanently triumph. There are no "schools of thought" in the sciences. When that day comes, Plato's Cave will be no more prominent in the philosophy curriculum than the Philosopher's Stone is in the chemistry curriculum. Philosophy courses will devote no more time to Kant than astronomy courses devote to Ptolemy.

Now, all this metaphysics and epistemology stuff is pretty abstract, and by this time you may be wondering, "What does this have to do with the price of eggs in Peoria?" So let's consider the implications for the field of ethics. For one of Ayn Rand's key insights is that our ethical reasoning is determined by our deeper, metaphysical premises.

One day years ago, when I was a student at MIT, I sat in the lounge of the East Campus dormitory discussing philosophy with a friend. All around us there were other students, some reading, some talking, some playing bridge, none of them, of course, paying any attention to us. During our discussion the topic turned to ethics, and I said that it is possible to derive an ethics that is objectively true. Instantly, everyone within earshot dropped whatever they were doing, turned to me, and urgently informed me that I was quite mistaken. I could not have gotten their attention more effectively by shouting "Fire!"

Students, of course, learn from their teachers and their textbooks. Approaches to Ethics, edited by W. T. Jones and colleagues, is a typical collection of philosophical readings, intended to present a wide variety of viewpoints on the subject of ethics. The essays included in this book argue altruism versus egoism, religion versus atheism, just about every important issue in the field of ethics -- except one. That one is settled in the Introduction to the book:

What can the student expect to learn from the study of ethics? He must not expect to absorb a conception of the good life, or a ready-made code of conduct, in the manner that the student of physics can absorb a knowledge of Newtonian mechanics and the differential calculus.

Philosophers are always arguing among themselves, but they close ranks when this issue comes up. In the Twentieth Century, the overwhelmingly dominant view has been that no ethical system can ever be demonstrated by reason. Our ethical beliefs may be justified by appeal to religious faith, or tradition, or the customs of our culture, or our emotions. But no morality is factually true. This ethical relativism is simply the reflection of the metaphysical and epistemological relativism that we previously discussed.

Objectivism asserts that morality is a matter of factual truth, which we can discover, just as we can discover the truth in physics, chemistry, or other fields of knowledge. This assertion is the sharpest departure of Objectivism from modern philosophical principles, and the development of the Objectivist ethics was Ayn Rand's greatest accomplishment.

What is the Objectivist ethics, then? How does Ayn Rand derive "ought" from "is," which Hume tells us is impossible?

I won't try tonight to analyze the Objectivist ethics in depth. For one thing, there isn't time; for another, Ayn Rand, who was a much better writer than I am, has explained it far more clearly than I could. Let me just indicate the basic line of argument, and then discuss some of the consequences that flow from it.

Rand begins by asking, what is ethics? Ethics is a set of rules, or values, or algorithms, if you like, by which an individual human being makes choices. Why is there any need for ethics? Because we have to make choices in order to live.

Just imagine if you had no rules for making choices -- imagine your brain replaced by a random number generator. What would happen to you? How long would you survive? And, incidentally, how much danger would you impose on the lives of the people around you?

Objectivism therefore asserts that life is the standard of ethical value, for the simple reason that making life's choices is what ethics is for. That which advances your life, that which makes you stronger, healthier, more successful, more vital and flourishing, is the good. That which is destructive to your life is the bad.

You can see, therefore, that Objectivist morality is egoistic. It is a code of selfishness -- in the strict, literal sense of that word: that which is good for the self.

Let me clear up some misconceptions before proceeding. Objectivist ethics is often attacked as being similar to the ideas of Nietzsche. In fact, though, Nietzsche was not an egoist; he explicitly called on men to selflessly sacrifice themselves for the mystical advancement of the human race toward the "superman." Or Rand is likened to the Social Darwinists. But they, like Nietzsche, sought the good, not of the individual, but of the species. Or Max Stirner, who advocated seeking power and the enslavement of other people. But in Ayn Rand's novels, it is the villains who seek power.

Egoism, in the Objectivist view, is aimed at control of nature, not other human beings. In fact, egoism calls for cooperation between human beings, because this is by far the most effective way to deal with nature.

Here again we see the radicalism of Objectivism; it challenges, not merely the content, but the very notion of morality. Most people find it incomprehensible to think of egoism as moral. The entire tradition of the human race is to define the moral as the selfless. Moralists have disagreed on when, how, and for whose sake one ought to be selfless, but have simply taken it for granted that selfless action is what we are talking about when we speak of morality. In fact, as biologists are now coming to understand, this feeling that altruism is moral is an instinct left over from our animal past, where it served purposes now mostly obsolete. Objectivism teaches us to use our minds to overcome this, in the same way that we curb other animal instincts.

Objectivist morality is fundamentally -- that is to say, radically -- different from both religious or traditional moralities on the one hand, and secular moralities on the other. Religious moralities are absolute -- this is right, and that is wrong, universally, and there is no question about it -- but they are also arbitrary. If you ask why, the answer ultimately is, because God says so, or because "it's always been that way." Secular moralities are uncomfortable with this arbitrary way of proceeding; after all, in the church down the road God has said something different. So the response has been to accept relativism -- "That may be good for you, but it's not good for me." Sound familiar? But sometimes the temptation to call on moral absolutes becomes irresistible -- when, for instance, the other fellow says that according to his morality it's right to exterminate all Jews.

What we need is a morality that tells us what is right and wrong absolutely and universally; and yet which can be justified by reason. For the great problem with both religious and secular moralities is that they often cannot settle their differences peaceably. If your church teaches that abortion is murder, how can you stand idly by and let other people, who don't share your beliefs, murder babies? On the other hand, even if you are a very tolerant cultural relativist, you may find it hard to refrain from interfering with people whose cultures find female genital mutilation of children a moral act. If morality is a matter of faith, or if it is a matter of culture, such differences can ultimately be settled only by picking up the gun.

Objectivist morality, by radically changing the terms of discourse, provides a solution to such conflicts. Reason is the only common ground on which all human beings can meet. Only if we acknowledge that moral law, like all other knowledge, is a product of reason, can we seek a harmonious world society. In the Twentieth Century all, or nearly all, of the world's cultures have come to agree on what is true in physics, in chemistry, in biology. Perhaps in the Twenty-First, they will come to agree on what is true in morality.

Morality is philosophy made practical in real life. What does it mean, personally, to be an Objectivist? What does Objectivist morality teach? Four virtues: rationality, productiveness, pride, and benevolence.

Because reason is the primary tool of survival for human beings, it is the primary value in human existence. Now, what does it mean to consider reason a value? I want to take some time for this question because I believe many Objectivists miss some important implications.

From a superficial reading of Ayn Rand's works, and even more so from those of her followers, one can easily get the impression that rationality means simply "not whim-worshiping". To be rational means to make decisions on the basis of reason, in disregard of, if not hostility to, one's emotions. And that's it. This is how non-Objectivists, and many Objectivists, seem to regard the virtue of rationality. But this is a very limited, cramped, and sterile vision of rationality.

Rationality in its fullest sense means to hold reason as a crucially important value. To value reason is to seek to make use of it to the maximum possible extent in solving the problems of everyday life. To value reason is to seek to understand as much as possible, to integrate one's concepts as broadly as possible. To value reason is to work every day at improving one's ability to think -- to expand one's knowledge, to develop one's thinking skills, to challenge one's mind with new problems and new concepts. To value reason is to seek reason everywhere -- in the books one reads, in the work one does, in the people one deals with.

What of one's emotions? Rationality does not demand that one declare war on one's emotions and go through life with a teeth-gritted determination to do the right thing regardless of how painful it is. There are times when one must simply override the desire to indulge in some variety of self-destructive behavior. But the goal is to bring one's emotions into harmony with reason -- not to annihilate or enslave them.

Let's turn to the value of purpose, and the corresponding virtue of productiveness. Again, it is easy to develop too narrow a concept of this virtue. Productiveness is not just "working hard", nor even "working smart". It is not just a matter of being self-supporting, or creating wealth.

Purpose is a key value for humans because we, being intelligent, seek goals at much longer range than any other animal. We look ahead years and plan and organize extremely complex projects to achieve major values. We are able to do this because, being humans, we do not just adapt to our environment and grab whatever values may become available, as other animals do. Instead, we modify our environment to create values.

To value purpose is, first and foremost, to make the effort to seek values. This means: to be active, not passive; to be ambitious, not self-satisfied; to be on the lookout for new values and new ways to achieve values. The purposeful person also seeks to extend the range and complexity of his actions, and to become capable of ever more far-seeing plans.

The virtue of productiveness also demands of us that we produce values, rather than merely find or appropriate them. We ought to be creative, in the broadest sense, seeking to use our minds to find better ways to do things. And of course we ought always to be striving to improve our productivity in a purely economic sense -- producing more values with less effort and expense.

But productiveness is a virtue not to be limited to our work or profession or career. One ought to be productive of values other than those of the financial or material sort. For instance, when we seek values from our relationships with other people -- whether our co-workers, our friends, our spouses, or our children -- we ought to expect that we must produce those values. The satisfactions we receive from these personal interactions must be earned -- by means of effort, of thought, of creativity, in the way we deal with other people.

Rand selects as the third cardinal virtue of Objectivism "pride". In doing so, she makes explicit the crucial importance she attaches to improving one's abilities and options. There are no less than eight definitions of "pride" in the Objectivist literature, but primary is: "moral ambitiousness". Nathaniel Branden amplifies this: "Moral ambitiousness, the dedication to achieving one's highest potential, in one's character and in one's life." Thus "pride" for the Objectivist denotes a constant effort to improve oneself.

We hear much these days about the importance of self-esteem. We are told that the road to self-esteem is paved with uncritical, unconditional praise and approval from other people. But as Branden points out, this brings merely an imitation or pseudo-self-esteem. Ultimately it is not only unsatisfying, it is psychologically toxic. Real self-esteem comes from within; it is the prize of effort and commitment.

The fourth Objectictivist virtue, benevolence, was brought to the fore in a recent book by David Kelley. The immense value that we receive from our interactions, direct and indirect, with other people makes it selfish -- literally -- to be benevolent in dealing with them. It is by no means a new observation that man is a social animal. Aristotle pointed this out, and the interdependence of human beings has long since become a cliche. But Objectivism goes beyond this to emphasize the importance of individuality. We tend to think it natural to be benevolent to people who are like us. But actually, the people from whom we most benefit are those who are different, whose diverse skills and interests complement our own.

The recent advances in cloning offer a useful thought-experiment. Imagine for a moment a world in which all the people are clones of yourself. Does that seem like a good state of affairs? Do you think you would receive as great a benefit from the existence of other people as you do in the real world?

Human individuality is the source of the advantages we derive from society. We ought therefore to want a society in which people are best able to develop what is distinctive in their characters and capabilities. But that requires freedom, and this leads to another radicalism of Objectivism, its political radicalism.

The political perspective of Objectivism is obvious: society and government ought to be organized in such a way as to make it possible for each individual to practice the Objectivist virtues. What this implies, very simply, is freedom. Rationality is based on acquiring knowledge; censorship, or any other restriction on free exchange of ideas, is an attack on human reason. Productiveness requires economic freedom, the abolition of taxes and regulations. Pride, a process of constant self-improvement, demands an environment in which people are not confined to social classes or castes, and in which nobody is privileged or restricted based on race or ancestry or sex. And benevolence cannot thrive when social interactions are contaminated by physical force -- be it criminal force or government force.

Liberalism and conservatism, the contending political philosophies of our time, are both committed to the unfree society. Both are based on the conviction that people cannot or will not practice virtue unless they are compelled to do so by government force. Each thinks it can make a compromise with freedom, restricting human rights in one area but respecting them in another. But the very logic of reality does not permit this, so that both liberals and conservatives, in the end, wind up attacking freedom on all fronts.

Liberals are dedicated to uplifting the unfortunate by compelling those who are more fortunate to help them. They consider economic freedom expendable in seeking this good. They congratulate themselves, however, on being defenders of intellectual freedom. But trying to impose economic equality by redistribution generates resentment in the victims and envy and guilt in the beneficiaries. The resulting social stresses threaten the whole program, and measures must be taken to repress them. So now we see the unedifying spectacle of liberals fighting for "political correctness," the modern face of censorship.

Conservatives do not believe that people will worship properly, lead clean, moral lives, or be sexually chaste unless compelled -- or at least strongly encouraged -- to do so by the government. (It must be said that currently conservatives are somewhat less enthusiastic about government control than liberals. Being the oppressed minority for sixty years seems to have taught them something.) Conservatives have claimed, on the other hand, to be defenders of economic freedom. Once again, though, the inherent contradiction of their position betrays them. If citizens are not fit to decide for themselves what books they will read, how can they be trusted to make economic and business decisions that affect the entire country? Currently we have the most conservative Congress since the era of Calvin Coolidge. Has it deregulated the economy, cut government spending, reduced taxes? Of course not.

With both sides pushing for more laws, more regulations, more government control, the trend is inevitable: the country is drifting in the direction of the totalitarian state. Objectivism is radical, and crucially important, because it provides the only consistent, principled opposition to tyranny.

Now I'm sounding really radical, right? Off the wall, in fact. Everybody knows that the great totalitarian ideologies of the Twentieth Century have died. Fascism is nothing now but an epithet. Communism lives on only in North Korea and in American universities. Democracy and free markets are taking over the world, and Francis Fukuyama proclaims the "end of history."

Well, let's examine the state of the world. How do things look? Do we have grounds for optimism or pessimism?

The most obvious factor is that the Evil Empire has disintegrated. The threat of military conquest that had so long hung over Europe is gone; statesmen instead worry about the power vacuum in the East and the complications created by the formation of newly independent countries.

Indeed, threats to peace have diminished dramatically. The very idea of fighting a major war is now considered ridiculous. Unprecedented progress has been made in the last few years in arms control, with agreements signed that would have been inconceivable a decade ago. Europe, the cockpit of so many conflicts in history, is now virtually borderless. Admittedly, the Serbs are making a lot of trouble, but this is a local problem. Where else might a crisis arise? China faces political unrest, but this is mitigated by its rapid economic development. The same is true of India. Japan's extraordinary 40-year run of progress seems to have been interrupted, but most likely it will resume soon. In Southeast Asia, once-primitive economies are expanding at a remarkable rate. Africa, of course, is a mess; but then it always has been. The recent changes in South Africa, however, may portend an improvement in race relations. Latin America, led by Mexico, has been making progress in political and economic liberalization. And the United States, of course, is as strong as it has ever been.

Overall, one would have to concede that the future looks bright in this year 1914 AD. Sorry, I tricked you.

Now, I don't mean to imply that history will literally repeat itself and that we will soon plunge into a World War as we did 80 years ago. But I want to suggest that simplistic extrapolations from current trend lines are not a reliable guide to the future. History has some surprises for us, and some particularly unpleasant surprises for fat and happy people who are sure that it could never happen to them.

In fact, though, there is good reason to believe that today, as in 1914, the world lies on the brink of an era of totalitarian ideologies. This time the names will be different, though; not communism and fascism, but environmentalism and feminism.

This may seem inconceivable; to understand it, one must develop a deep feel for history. The key thing to remember is that what is history to us, was politics to them. We have the benefit of hindsight; we know how it all came out. But if we really want to learn from history, we have to try to understand, not just what happened, but how it appeared to the people who lived at the time.

A hundred or so years ago, communism was regarded very much as environmentalism and feminism are now. It was seen as a response to real problems and real abuses. Perhaps it was sometimes misguided; perhaps some advocates were too extreme. Perhaps even it was not the right solution to social problems. But, except for some conservative fogeys who were horrified by it, communism was widely regarded as a morally benevolent ideology, at least. Students read and enthusiastically discussed Bellamy's Looking Backwards, just as they do books like Earth in the Balance or The Feminine Mystique nowadays. Those who expressed concern about collectivization were reassured that Communism actually would liberate the individual. Many intellectuals, longing to be part of this exciting and attractive movement, put great effort into inventing schemes of "Democratic Socialism" so they could participate while still remaining loyal to the idea of individual rights--very similar to today's "Libertarian Feminists."

The libertarian writer Rose Wilder Lane has described how impressed she was with the idealism, courage, and dedication of the communists she saw during the Palmer raids of 1919. And, as she points out, it was these people who made communism a success. Lenin and Trotsky and Stalin merely rode along and cashed in on them. It was these decent, admirable people, and the respect non-communists had for them, that made the Gulag Archipelago possible.

The same is true of fascism. From our perspective--knowing from hindsight that it would lead to aggression, war, and mass murder--it seems incredible that any decent person could have admired Nazis. But at the time, it seemed a real response to Germany's problems. Keep in mind that in the mid-Thirties, when every other industrial economy was mired in the Great Depression, Germany, alone in the world, had recovered and was growing and prosperous. People were very impressed by that. Yes, Naziism, like many other political parties of the time, was anti-Semitic; and some Nazi policies seemed awfully extreme. But Naziism appeared idealistic and forward-looking.

Intelligent and decent people, such as the Lindberghs, saw the evils in Naziism. But they also were extremely impressed by many of the rank-and-file Nazis they met. Anne Morrow Lindbergh recorded these impressions after a visit to Germany in 1936:

It is terrific. I have never in my life been so conscious of such a directed force. It is thrilling when seen manifested in the energy, pride, and morale of the people--especially the young people.

And again:

. . . there they are, a strong, united, physical, and spiritual force to be reckoned with--a spirit of hope, pride, and self-sacrifice. We haven't got it--or France or England. It bothers me that it seems to be gotten that way--not by democracy. Flower & Nettle, pp. 100-101

(In fairness I want to add that in the same letter Lindbergh condemned the Nazi treatment of the Jews.) Once again we see that opposition to fascism was disarmed because fascism was advocated by so many decent and idealistic people. If its followers included such admirable people, surely it must be a basically good ideology. It was the fact that so many good people were attracted to fascism that made the Holocaust possible.

This is why I am unimpressed when I hear things like, "Some feminists are extremists, but feminism itself is a good thing." Or, "But I know So-and-so personally. He's a really sincere and decent person, and he's an environmentalist." History shows that when such an ideology triumphs, it is the extremists who will come to power. Those nice, decent people will end up in the concentration camps.

The way to evaluate an ideology is to identify its basic premises--ignoring the froth of contradictory slogans and ephemeral political platforms; ignoring the emotional appeals to heart-rending suffering, whether real or imaginary; ignoring the fact that decent and attractive people may be marching under its banner (remember Andrei Taganov?). Look at the roots, and you'll know what the fruit will be.

The root idea of Environmentalism is that "nature"--by which is meant the biosphere of earth except for humankind--ought to be valued regardless of any benefit to humans. In this view "nature" or "the environment" has an intrinsic value. But our species, far, far more than any other, lives by modifying its environment. So there is an inescapable conflict: either human values, or "nature" as an intrinsic value. One cannot have both, because there is a contradiction. The excuse that environmentalism merely wishes to reduce humans to the status of just another species, living in "harmony" with all other species, will not wash. That is not the nature of human beings. So to implement the environmentalist program, one would ultimately have to make the species homo sapiens extinct -- an option which some environmentalists are frank enough to favor openly.

Feminism is a revival of the basic idea of collectivism: that people have rights, not as individuals, but as members of a group. Instead of the proletariat, or the "Aryan" race, the female sex is to be considered downtrodden and therefore deserving of special rights in compensation.

Now, statists are very good at using the language to pre-empt any attempt at opposition, by means of setting the terminology prior to discussion. (George Orwell had some prescient things to say about this in 1984.) Specifically, they name their ideologies so as to seize the moral high ground:

"You're an anti-Communist? So, you are against the community!"

"You oppose Socialism? That means you are an enemy of society!"

"You're not an Environmentalist? You must want to destroy the environment!"

The typical response to this has been to engage in a verbal tug-of-war with the totalitarians, trying to pull these attractive-sounding terms away from them. So you hear people say that Stalin wasn't a "real Communist," or that they advocate "Socialism with a human face," or "libertarian Feminism," or "pro-rights Environmentalism." This has consistently failed, because it surrenders to the basic premise of the opposition.

What, then should be our policy? For these ideologies, like communism and fascism, are responses to real problems. We ought not ever to cooperate with environmentalists or feminists or accept them as allies. If they happen to be on the same side with us on some particular issue--and this will sometimes happen--they should be regarded as "co-belligerents". We are for clean streams and clean air, for a diverse biosphere; we are against environmentalism. We are for unbiased treatment of men and women as individuals, for equal protection of rights; we are against feminism. Just as we are for prosperous workers, for industrial safety; and against communism.

I have spent quite a bit of time on this subject, not just because it is so important, but because it points toward a final issue I want to take up: the inherent conflict within Objectivism. No, not the Great Schism between Ayn Rand and Nathaniel Branden, or the current food fight between Leonard Peikoff and David Kelley. I am talking about a conflict that is submerged in the movement, but very fundamental--indeed, radical.

There is a dualism within Objectivism between the radical impulse and the yearning for respectability. This conflict was evident in Rand's psychology, and it continues to play out in the movement, both between proponents of the two viewpoints and within the minds of many individual Objectivists.

Ayn Rand was a very radical thinker, and she enjoyed it. She took a very evident personal pleasure in surprising and shocking her readers. But she also yearned for acceptance by the intelligentsia. She wanted her ideas to be accepted and respected.

In the same way, today many if not most Objectivists long for acceptance and respectability within the academic world. But as we have seen, the most fundamental premise of modern intellectuals in philosophy and the other humanities is that there is no such thing as absolute, permanent truth. And that means there is no room for Objectivism.

Let me point out that this conflict between the respectable and the radical plays a key thematic role in Atlas Shrugged. So perhaps the terminology I should use is "scabs" and "strikers."

We see on the one hand a person with desperate longing to be fully a part of human society, and an immense benevolence that naturally thinks the best of other people. Seeing the truth, he cannot believe that others do not accept it. It must be because they simply don't understand it; it must be, because nobody could deny it if they understood it . . . From Hank Rearden to Eddie Willers to Cherryl Brooks, this is one perspective. There is a scene toward the end of the book in which we see Dagny Taggart still trying to convince the likes of Cuffy Meigs and Floyd Ferris of the value of production, still trying to reason with them, still thinking that somehow she can get through to them.

I, of course, speak for the strikers. As in Atlas Shrugged, we are told by the scabs that we are giving up too easily, that we are too pessimistic, that we are surrendering to despair. Well, to conclude that you cannot batter down a brick wall with your head is, I suppose, despair. But it feels so good when you stop. And it facilitates thinking about more practical ways to attain your objective.

For I believe that the attempt to enter the world of academic discourse on its own terms is a disastrous mistake. Objectivism cannot be accepted without, in its turn, accepting relativism. But that would mean giving up its very heart--its commitment to reason, to reality, to objectivity, to truth.

What, then, do I advocate? Objectivists ought to stress the immense value of a philosophy that offers knowledge and certainty. In particular, our notions of right and wrong are crucial to our lives. We ought to know what is morally right as firmly as we know that two plus two equals four or that salt dissolves in water. Compare this to the alternative of "values clarification," or to the view that we can only feel that human sacrifice is wrong, not know it, because in other cultures it has been regarded as right. Certainty, particularly moral certainty, is the "unique selling proposition" of Objectivism. It is a powerful one, because people don't like living without standards.

From a tactical point of view, I am convinced that attempting to penetrate the academic strongholds of traditional philosophy is neither necessary nor desirable. Instead, we ought to build our own institutions. Our focus should be on scientists, engineers, business people.

I became an Objectivist back in the heady days of the Sixties movement. Objectivism then seemed poised to go from triumph to triumph and take over the culture in a few years. Instead, we got the Great Schism and a long trek in the wilderness. Over the years I gradually realized that Objectivism is much too radical to grow in a conventional way. It is, and I suspect always will be, a minority doctrine. And yet this underground river will change -- is already changing -- the shape of our world. Objectivism will never appeal to everybody; but it will always appeal to the people who matter. Ayn Rand titled the last chapter of Atlas Shrugged, "In the name of the best within us." And it is the best within us that seeks absolute truth, absolute morality, and absolute respect for human rights.

Thank you.

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