The Journals of Ayn Rand (79 page)

(The above is more [relevant] for my novel about the mind.)

Also, FLW is
playing
at living in the kind of world he would like—the effective, dramatic world. But he won’t admit to himself that it’s only playing. He wants other men to live up to his buildings—to the kind of existence his buildings are intended for (and which, incidentally, he has never defined). He thinks this is up to other people, or depends on them, or he can force them into it. He doesn’t realize that none of it is real—since it is forced on people through their acceptance of his superiority (and since there is no conscious rational grasp of it in those people, hence no actual reality as far as they’re concerned). Inferiors do not lead a heroic life, nor do they actually contribute anything to the hero. How can they? So his version of the beautiful, dramatic life becomes a show to impress those he despises—the vicious circle of second-handedness. [...]

His desire to be “god” or the representation of some sort of universal force is, of course, the desire to be something more than himself. He does not consider it enough to be a great man. This is also, perhaps, the desire to impose himself upon others in a way that the rational terms of man’s equality will not permit: to be an authority, not by reason of achievement or rational proof, but just to be an authority: “It’s so because I say it’s so.” Again, the dreadful desire for arbitrary power over others. Isn’t the root of that the knowledge or fear that he could not prove or defend all his convictions in rational terms and on rational grounds? (Pat does the same, too.)

All of this leads only to evil, failure, and suffering. While hating people, using and cheating them—he has become completely dependent upon them, constantly begging them for admiration or attention. Trying to make them the means to achieve his world, he ended by living completely in their world, in its worst aspect pretense and deceit. This is an example of the fact that ruling others is still living for and through others, still collectivism. He tried to use the collective—he has become completely dependent upon it.

(The worst part of it is the spectacle of a great man constantly begging others: “Please show me how great a man I am!” It almost amounts to: “Please prove it to me!”)

The girl reader
—a horrible creature—homely, sloppy, physically dirty and unfeminine, unintelligent and inefficient—a person with no single grace to recommend her, but with an insidious bitterness and malice toward the world. She declared smugly that of course she is just a product and creature of her background, of her family, of her race, class, etc.—and of whatever “ideas” she has absorbed from others. She admits her own inferiority, pronounces it a virtue; she sneers at the possibility of anyone being better, regarding anyone’s claim to independence as a presumption and a delusion—since she has decided that it is a delusion in her case.

Nellie Berns
—when she said it’s right that she should be compelled to pay for her own social security, by force and law; it’s better for her, since she’d never have the character to save or provide for her future voluntarily. This is an admission of weakness and, again, the attaching of one’s own sin to the rest of the world. Like this: I deserve to be pushed into line by means of a whip—therefore it’s all right for others to be whipped, too, whether they deserve it or not. I need to be led on a leash—therefore, let’s put others on a leash, too.

The publicity boy
who—being a weak, hysterical, touchy kind of failure, the kind who never really made an effort toward anything—criticizes men like Henry Ford and other industrialists of the great school, calls them stupid, considers their success undeserved and in some way expropriated from
him,
and feels that men like Ford should be controlled by men like
him.

I. L.
[Ivan Lebedeff]—[a type] that is rather frightening—[he has] the idea that the man of whom he takes advantage must not only help him, but also pretend that no advantage is being taken in order to spare his feelings. This is a case where a man acts like a parasite, but does not want to pay for it even to the extent of admitting that that’s what he is, and expects the man he exploits to keep up the pretense for his sake. He denies reality—and expects his victim to deny it, too. He wants to do evil—he knows that it’s evil—without paying the price of admitting that it’s evil and of having others know it. This is a “compound second-handedness”: not merely accepting the judgment of others to estimate his own action, but knowing the nature of his action, expecting others to fake their judgment of it, and then feeling free to accept this faked judgment and to be absolved and vindicated by it.
This
is
an extremely important point
—it has a place in every variation of second-handedness, in every second-hander’s soul.
This is for the priest
—it shows how he helps to perpetuate evil, the evil he thinks he’s fighting.

Two main lines to follow for the key events of the plot:

The progressive paralysis
of the world, the growing disintegration—each time because independent thinking, initiative, originality, fresh judgment were lacking; each time through the cowardly, senseless, automatic repetition of a routine that no longer applies. (This in connection with TT and those businesses that need it or that it needs. TT is acting here as the blood vessels of the world—and we see what happens when the heart is no longer pumping.)

The progressive disappearance of the prime movers.
As the paralysis grows, they vanish, adding to it. This ties in with the first line—in each specific key case there is a prime-mover involved, who is either disregarded, or hampered, or refuses to make the crucial step and leaves the parasites to their natural fate.

John Galt
must [embody] that which is lacking in the lives of all the strikers. It is he who specifically (in events essential to and proceeding from his nature) solves their personal stories, fills the lack, gives them the answer.

Here, then, I must decide who are the key strikers of the story and what is their relation to Galt. What they need, what he supplies, in what events this takes shape. (“The man innocent of all sense of guilt.”) Most particularly: what does he give to Dagny?

The climax
must be an event that shows the breakdown of the world. It will be the end of TT—but there must be a specific event that finishes off Taggart and all those connected with TT. This event must be based on and tied to the last major striker—the one who held out the longest, whose tie was hardest to break, but broke at last. (It would be best if this were Dagny.) In connection with this, start by asking yourself:
which, of all their ties and reasons, is the most excusable and the hardest to break?

(The men who are “mixed” on the problem realize, as the story progresses, that they must take a stand.)

What does Galt do, once he enters the story? Is there no conflict for him? (This should be Dagny.)

 

 

Note:
The creators work silently, their contribution unknown and their principles unstated, while the parasites climb to the forefront on stolen achievements (by concentrating on the social, second-hand sphere of activity, and therefore getting the publicity and the credit). [The parasites] preach their principles to the world, thus making these principles the stated or public policy of mankind. Example: the real, competent businessman who [said] that a Peter Keating could not be successful in the business world, that this is not how business success is made; while every parasite screams that Keating is the
practical
man, that any kind of success is made only by the Keating methods, that his technique is
realistic
and
necessary,
and that
the world
forces us to adopt his method. The question here is: what world? The world of the parasite, the world which he imagines and according to the principles of which
he
functions. But
that
world (like the parasite) is a surface sham, an illusion, a mildew on the
real
world, made possible only by the real world, by its silent, active creators who support the surface mildew and have no time to protest.

Of course, there are more parasites than creators—so the parasites’ creed is the one heard most often and spread most widely. Plus the fact that the creators do not talk at all. The terrible thing here is the influence this creed has on an “in-between,” average young man who starts out in life open-minded, with no particular convictions, and is taught at once that idealism (or any kind of sincerity) is impossible and impractical, that the world belongs to the Peter Keatings and he had better act accordingly. If he’s not strong and independent enough to rebel against this teaching, he goes the way of all parasites—and a potentially decent, average man is turned into another scoundrel, his best potentialities are killed, his worse brought out and encouraged.

[Further,] the creators themselves are left in a kind of bewildered muddle.
They
cannot accept the idea that the world is made and moved by the Peter Keatings—they know better—but they come to believe, with a kind of helpless, unanalyzed bitterness, that they themselves are freaks or martyrs, that they must go on functioning in a hostile, vicious world unsuited to them. Well, the world they see is vicious, but it’s neither real nor essential nor necessary—it is permitted only by their own inattention, indifference, or lack of understanding of it and of themselves. They can shake it off—like a nightmare—any time they wish, if they understand their own nature, function and place in the world, if they accept their proper morality, declare it to all men and then act upon it.
Let them awaken.
(This is what John Galt tells them.)

The man who thinks that the world demands corruption is the man who is corrupting the world.
And note that he places his prime motive in others; they demand corruption, he claims, and he has no choice but to accept their methods and live on their terms. This is an eloquent demonstration of the viciousness, the moral corruption, brought about by second-handers.

Make a point to stress the fact that creators function in silence—both their work and their creed unknown.

Here, tell the creators that they are really functioning on my morality and are afraid to admit it. It’s time they admitted it. (It’s never been stated for them. But now it’s stated.)

(No great man ever says that success is made through fraud; every small man says that. A man’s idea of what makes success defines the nature of the man.)

The creator’s greatest tie to the world is the fact that he will not surrender the world to the parasites. He realizes that it is his proper function to shape the world to his wishes. And he struggles to do it no matter what obstacles the parasites put in his way. But by tolerating them or compromising by accepting their terms, he succeeds only in creating
their
world—or in keeping it going.

 

 

General theme in regard to the creators: the creators cannot work or live against their own principles. They only achieve their own destruction and the destruction of everything dearest and most important to them, including their work. This is their error and the cause of their tragedy. This is what they must stop—by defining, understanding, and accepting their proper principles. (They usually try to pay the price in their private lives. They say, in effect: “I am evil in my selfishness—I’ll pay for it in my [private] life. I’ll accept my suffering—but I’ll go on working and being selfish about my work.”)

If Dagny is the leading figure and carries the story, then the climax must be the destruction of TT (and almost the destruction of John Galt) by her attempt to deal with the parasites.