In this chapter, Rearden just begins to touch on some issues that I hope Rand intends to delve into further.

First, is the definition of “success.” Success is not just making money, or the characters would have accepted the various deals the corrupt officials keep offering them. Oddly, for all that they would deny it vociferously, the characters appear to define success as earning public accolades. They don’t go out seeking it, but they sure are upset when they don’t receive it. Unearned accolades are, of course, for parasites like Jim Taggert et al., but having earned those public accolades, they had better get them. Rearden touches on it, when “He thought—in bitter astonishment and for the first time—that the joyous pride he had once felt, had come from his respect for men, for the value of their admiration and their judgment. He did not feel it any longer. There were no men, he thought, to whose sight he could wish to offer that sign.” If you can’t define success as people looking up at you in awe, what does success mean?

Second is their ignorance of people as a resource that can be developed. Again, Rearden touches on this, when he wonders, “We who were able to melt rock and metal for our purpose, why had we never sought that which we wanted from men?” I have wondered this too, given the amount of times they complain at how hard it is to find good workers. All these men fresh out of college aren’t anywhere near as experienced as their veteran workers. Why don’t you train your own workers?

Meanwhile, Francisco remains an idiot savant. He has wonderful skills at all things, and he continues to make these Faustian arguments that have just enough truth to seem right, huge amounts of flattery to ease their way into Rearden’s psyche, and vast numbers of fallacies to stick in my craw.

So a quick summary of events and then a bit more of reaction from me:

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Given the recent Super Bowl, I have a sports metaphor for you:  Dagny and Rearden are like Olympic-grade field and track athletes who have stumbled onto a professional football field. They are extremely fast, they are extremely strong, they can get that ball from one end of the field to the other with no problem… and they have no clue why those referees keep on yelling at them, or why those other guys on the field are working together and even strategizing. There are two different competitions going on here, but Dagny and Rearden aren’t willing to learn the rules of football and the rest of the world isn’t willing to give up the game in order to celebrate pure individual strength.

In some ways, this book seems to foretell the shift our society went through in the way it treats information. We are so inundated with information, in today’s world, that someone’s attention is a valuable resource. Marketing firms make and spend fortunes focusing attention. Facebook is monetized based on the idea that people and corporations will pay money in order to get the attention of various demographics. Dagny and Rearden are the dinosaurs in this new economy. They are the takers rather than the makers when it comes to attention. They demand it of others, but they don’t give it to anyone else. That is why they are currently failing so hard. They ignore their “men in Washington” and their boards of directors just as they ignore the vast majority of people. Dagny even states that she doesn’t think her brother’s new wife is worth the attention it would require to form an opinion of.  The economy based on a currency of time and attention is something that she and Reardon are completely unaware of. They wander through the marketplace, wondering why no one will barter with them, when they so obviously have nothing to give.

Anyway, a quick summary of events and then a discussion of money and logic and why Francisco is an idiot.

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By Ayn Rand

Sigh.

Rebecca read my previous post, where I complained at the end that there were too many characters to keep up with, and commented that I had neglected to mention Dr. Robert Stadler. I said that was because I didn’t care about him. She simply smirked, so of course this chapter opens on Dr. Robert Stadler, renowned theoretical physicist and head of the State Science Institute. Continue reading →

By Ayn Rand

I’m feeling a bit broken down by this book at this point, and I’m only a quarter of the way through it (which, I would like to add, is the length of a normal-sized book). I feel like maybe I’m being brainwashed? I don’t even have the strength for resistance anymore.  Send help! What’s the anti-Ayn-Rand?

Anyway, the plot is getting pretty dense at this point, so while I was initially trying to confine my summaries to two or three paragraphs a chapter, I’m not sure that is going to be possible, and I refuse to let you escape hearing about some of the most uncomfortable sex scenes I’ve had to read.

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This chapter kind of highlighted for me how Rand appears to have an incredibly focused Monkey Sphere. She sees known individuals as individuals, but she fails to see groups of people as made up of individuals. Once some people are in a group, they immediately become some vague conglomerate that looses all interest and rights, even to the point of ignoring the individuals who make up that group. (Example from chapter 7: “Passengers” aren’t really people.)

I very much see this perspective as a symptom or a cause or some combination related to depression. The whole world can be against you and the individuals who support you don’t really count because they’re just individuals and you know that the whole world hates you… the whole world being this amorphous thing that you know without ever having to actually get to know it. There is much talk about how the “public” is against Reardon Metal and the John Galt line, how “people” are saying that it’s dangerous and horrible, how “the press” are writing scurrilous stories, etc. And yet, at the same time, there are long lists of individuals who are placing orders for the new metal, who are buying stock in the new train line, who want to be on the new train. But this chapter has a break through because in this chapter Dagny not only achieves a massive success but also recognizes for the first time that there are masses of people who support her, masses too large for her to comprehend as individuals, but must see as groups, as “the public” or as “the press.”

This is a happy chapter (at least in comparison to everything else so far.)   Continue reading →

By Ayn Rand

Oh, Rand, you almost had me there, you tricksy Objectivist! (I’m breaking into Rebecca’s week of blogging because I can’t quite contain myself on Chapter 7.)

At the beginning of the chapter, when Dagny has run away from a rigged debate and found herself in a seedy diner, she discusses the state of the world with the lower-income diners. Like all good liberals, it was only from their mouths that I began to see what Rand has been trying to get at, and to perhaps even find some common ground between liberal and conservative viewpoints.

I think we can all agree that the state of the production in our country is in trouble, and, additionally, that one of the main sources of the trouble is that people have become disenfranchised from the act of production, that people are too afraid to buck the status quo to come up with original and ground-breaking ideas. From my liberal standpoint, the voices of the “little people” are too far away from the “big people” and if the “little people” try to make their voices heard, they have a very real fear of losing their jobs. Thus, people in the production line might notice incompetence, but are actively discouraged from acting on it. Of course, the two political sides break down when it comes to finding a solution, but I think even agreeing on the problem is a step in the right direction.

So, I was beginning to buy into Atlas Shrugged, right? I was even starting to think that this whole endeavor wouldn’t be as unpleasant as I had originally thought. Continue reading →

This is an extremely dense chapter in which a great many events happen and I am enticed into having a great many thoughts and opinions. Thus, this post is going to be both very long and much shorter than would be required to fully discuss. This chapter deserves a discussion group. I’m beginning to realize how complex this book really is, what with the way it is thoroughly layered in unreliable narration.

The first layer is that all of the characters are either lying—to each other and/or to themselves in bouts of hypocrisy—or making false assumptions. One cannot accept at face value anything that any character says or thinks.

The second layer is Rand’s narration. An author can choose to write a book through the eyes of a character or write in what is commonly called a god voice, in which the author is telling the reader what is happening without any bias from the characters. Rand writes in this style, but still shows a clear bias in the way her summations do not match the details. (For example, as Anna pointed out, Hank Reardon has eyes “like pale blue ice” and has “prominent cheekbones” that made him look younger than his years, but is still considered “ugly.”)

The third layer, which is not the book’s fault, per se, but is nonetheless and important feature in my understanding of the book, is the cultural impact this book has taken. Randian philosophy is an established enough part of the culture that I cannot read Atlas Shrugged without having to deal with other people’s interpretations.

From all three sources, I have heard, for instance, that our heroic protagonists are cold and emotionless, that they prize money above all else, and that they never give charity or offer favors. And yet, given the actual events of the book and the look into the thoughts and ideas of these main characters, all three of these sources are wrong.

A common bit of writers advice is to show, not tell. For instance, if a character is really smart, show them being smart rather than simply telling the reader that they’re smart. I get a real sense of discordance here, though, because I am being told one thing and then shown something contradictory. I am told (by Ayn Rand, by Dagny Taggert/Hank Reardon, and by Paul Ryan) that:

• Dagny and Hank are cold and emotionless. But then they show vast and painful emotions. They feel pride and pain, desire and concern, frustration and anger and pleasure and happiness.
• Money is the only thing that matters. But then they spend vast quantities of money to achieve goals based on spreading truth and knowledge and quality, and they turn down vast quantities of money offered as bribes to turn aside from those goals.
• They never give charity or offer favors. But then they go on to help their opponents who are being torn down by unfair means, and to provide opportunities and support to small businesses who need a chance.

Money is not an ends that these people are working towards, it’s a measurement of greatness, but is not the greatness itself. I watched a TED talk a while back, which pointed out that of all the various things societies and individuals needed to succeed, money was the only one that is purely a means by which other goals can be achieved, but is not a goal in and of itself.

I think Rand understood this perfectly well. The part where she and I diverge is that she appears* to think that money is a useful measurement of greatness, while I think is a deeply flawed measurement tool.

Anyway, I think the three main events of this chapter are:

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I recently read an article on how my particular job title tends to get blank stares and awkward silences at cocktail parties. Before reading this chapter of Atlas Shrugged, I might have nodded along with the article and felt smug about my clear superiority. Having now seen this perspective in excruciating detail in Hank Reardon, I have learned my lesson. I now roll my eyes and want to tell the article writer to suck it up. No matter how dull the party-goers are, you can find a conversational topic. And if none of the topics you are interested in, interest them, then maybe it’s time to ask questions and learn about a new topic that they find interesting. If all the other people at a party are super boring, maybe you need to consider the fact that you might be the boring one.

With that lead up: In Chapter 6 of Atlas Shrugged, we have one of the most uncomfortable parties ever.

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