The Journals of Ayn Rand Read online

  But the responsibility goes deeper than that. It is not only that man survives through the rational faculty which functions through constant choice. It is that he also has the choice of exercising his rational faculty or not. He can make an error in judgment. He can act against his own judgment. He can suspend all judgment. ([Note added later:] Explain what it means to act without judgment.) An animal cannot act against his instinct nor suspend it. He enjoys a safety man can never have—the invariable operation of his means of survival. He cannot act against his own nature. Man can. Man can stop his source of existence. Man can choose not to act as a rational being. Man can choose not to function as a man. His destruction will be the ultimate price—but it will not be the immediate consequence. The rational faculty operates through time. It does not grant man the safety of an immediate retribution for error. The greater man’s knowledge, the more complex the factors involved in any given act—the longer the interval before the consequences of that act become evident to him. At any moment of his existence, man lives with the possibility of acting as an agent of his own destruction.

  Just as man must discover the methods that permit him to obtain sustenance from the physical world, so he must discover the methods that permit his means of survival—his rational faculty—to function. Nothing is granted to him automatically, neither the results of the operation of his reason nor even the operation itself. He must discover the rules which that operation requires. He must direct his actions by these rules. He must learn to act in accordance with his nature as a rational being.

  Man cannot give life to himself. But its preservation and continuation are up to him. Life is given to him—survival is not.

  Man cannot change his nature. But its realization and fulfillment are up to him. Being a man is given to him—remaining a man is not. He is the only creature who can slip beneath his own stature. He is man only so long as he functions in accordance with the nature of a rational being. When he chooses to function otherwise, he is no longer man. There is no proper name for the thing which he then becomes. It is not an animal—it does not possess the animal’s equipment of survival. It cannot survive, but it has that interval of time at its disposal before the consequences of its choice catch up with it, an interval as a prelude to destruction, a process of disintegration like a slow-rotting disease. Thus it exists for a while—a thing of corruption and death.

  A flea does not have the responsibility of remaining a flea. It can be nothing else. A tiger does not have the responsibility of remaining a tiger. Man must remain man through his own choice. Nature guarantees him nothing, not even his own nature. Such is the penalty and the honor of being a rational creature. ([Note added later:] Careful here. It may be [asked]: well, if his nature is something relative, arbitrary—how can you base morality on his nature? His nature must be achieved by him. The process here, in effect, is this: man is raw material when he is born; nature tells him: “Go ahead, create yourself. You can become the lord of existence—if you wish—by understanding your own nature and by acting upon it. Or you can destroy yourself. The choice is yours.”)

  Such is the origin of man’s moral faculty.

  The moral faculty—the ability to distinguish between right and wrong—is implicit in the rational faculty. The act of choice is the act of establishing values: the accepted and the rejected. Yes or no, right or wrong, good or evil. ([Note added later:] Unwarranted jump. A transition is needed.)

  A moral code is man’s statement of the principles that permit him to function as man. It is his protection against becoming his own destroyer. It is his code of rules for the preservation of that entity of consciousness which we call his soul or his spirit.

  The first, most earnest, most crucial question man asks of himself is: Am I right? An animal cannot conceive of such a question. Man cannot escape it. In one form or another, it rings through his whole life. It sets the leitmotif of his existence—the style of his soul. No matter what he has accepted as his conception of the “good” and no matter how often he betrays it, his desire to remain good has the fierce intensity of a primary instinct. His quest for moral justification has a quality of desperate urgency. Men have died willingly for an ideal. It is said, of such cases, that their moral instinct was stronger than their instinct of self-preservation. ([Note added later:] This is their instinct of self-preservation.) This is not true. The fact is that men—whether they have consciously stated it or not—know that their moral instinct is the first condition of their self-preservation.

  All moral systems speak of spiritual death as penalty for immorality. This statement contains all the dangers and possibilities of deception inherent in any half-truth. Man is urged to save his soul at the price of his physical destruction—an unwarranted contraposition. It is true that man destroys his spirit in breaking the principles of morality. But the whole truth is much wider than that. The whole truth is that man cannot preserve his body unless he preserves his soul. His spiritual survival precedes his physical survival-the last is not possible without the first. And if man is placed in a situation where he must choose between spiritual evil or physical death, he chooses the last, because the choice is death in either case; only, in the first case, it is a dreadful form of slow disintegration which no man can choose once he has understood it. The moral man is the one who understands.

  ([Note added later:] This is where altruism cut man’s soul off from his physical reality.)

  But if a moral code is a necessity of man’s survival, what happens when his code is in opposition to his survival? Then man finds himself in a state of perpetual internal war—a civil war against himself. This is the state in which he has lived for centuries. Let us now clear away the wreckage—and the rubbish.

  The establishment of values requires a standard. What is the standard by which moral values are to be set? Good and evil? Good—for what? Evil—to whom?

  The nature of man sets the standard of his moral code. Man’s survival sets the purpose. A moral code in opposition to man’s nature or survival would mean immediate destruction, if actually adopted.

  The axiom of the only morality proper to man is:

  Man exists and must survive as man.

  All that which furthers his survival is good. All that which obstructs it is evil. The conditions and qualities required by the function of his rational faculty constitute the Life Principle and are, therefore, good. The conditions and qualities that proceed from or result in the obstruction of his rational faculty constitute the Death Principle and are, therefore, evil. [AR later rejected the idea that ethics begins with an axiom. For her proof of man’s life as the standard of moral value, see John Galt’s speech in Atlas Shrugged and “The Objectivist Ethics ” in The Virtue of Selfishness.]

  Any morality not based on this axiom would have to claim either that a) man does not exist, or b) he exists, but his survival is not desirable, or c) he can survive as a sub-human creature. The viewpoint of those who might wish to propound any such morality can have no pertinence in any human discussion. ([Marginal note:] Good!)

  If one accepts man for what he is—a rational being—any hypothesis one may hold upon his origin or the origin of his rational faculty will not contradict man’s proper moral code. If it is held that man is created by God, endowed with an immortal soul and with reason as an attribute of his soul, it still holds true that man must act in accordance with his nature, the nature God gave him, and that in doing so he will be doing God’s will. If it is held that man is a wholly material creature of unknown origin and that his rational faculty is an attribute of his physical body, a superior manifestation of material energy—it still holds true that man must act in accordance with his nature, of which that rational energy is the free, dominant and determining part. [Later, AR recognizes that an objective ethics is incompatible with an irrational metaphysics. When she rewrites these notes in 1945, this passage is eliminated.]

  The only metaphysical viewpoint that cannot accept or be accepted in this discussion is the old doctrine which has a long, disreputable history, as many variations as a skin disease, and can best be identified in its present version by its current title of “dialectic materialism.” It is the doctrine which denies the existence of the rational faculty in man. It holds choice as an illusion and reason as a by-product of physical environment, nutrition and “conditioning,” operating without volition, automatically and unalterably. There is a catch in that doctrine, however. Its proponents claim to have reached it by rational deduction. They urge us to take action upon it, to improve our physical environment in order to improve the by-product, our brain, and they beg us to take such action through a conscious decision of—our rational faculty. It is an embarrassing contradiction which no dialectic materialist has ever explained away. Until it is explained, the doctrine is not worth considering or discussing.

  There is an axiom implicit in the act of reading or writing any book-the axiom that a book can be read or written. There is an axiom implicit in any book on morality—the axiom that morality is possible. ([Note added later:] Not necessarily.) There can be no morality without the rational faculty. There can be no rational faculty without the act of free choice. If this is not accepted as self-evident, no conception of morality nor of a book is possible. Animals and imbeciles are neither rational nor moral. This book is for men.

  September 18, 1943

  Theorem I: The Basic Alternative

  [AR here presents independence as the primary virtue in her morality (the “basic alternative” is the choice between independence and dependence). Later, she identifies independence as a derivative, an aspect of the primary virtue of rationality. See John Galt’s speech, where she writes: “Thinking is man’s only basic virtue, from which all the others proceed. ”]

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here is nothing in nature to hinder the function of man’s rational faculty. That function follows a simple pattern: to observe through his own senses, to make the proper deductions through his own reasoning power. Nothing must stand between the material and man’s mind. No intermediary is possible. What can assume the role of such an intermediary? Only other men. The conclusions, the thoughts, the opinions, the wishes or the orders of other men. Man can, if he chooses, accept the ideas of others without examination, repeat what he is told, follow instead of inquiring, shift to others the responsibility of choice, judgment and decision. But whatever he does in such case, it is not an act of reason. The only threat to man’s rational faculty lies in the person of others. ([Note added later:] This point must be illustrated concretely. Tremendously important step—not well stated. Not clear.)

  In this thinking, each man must be as the first man facing a new world for the first time.

  Nothing can guarantee that he has made the right deductions, and nothing can prove that he has made the wrong ones—except the consequences, observed and examined by his own mind. His own mind remains the ultimate criterion, the court of final appeal. Other men can find a better solution for any given problem and show to him the error he has made. But this error must be demonstrated in rational terms—and the demonstration is not conclusive or valid to him until he has become convinced of its truth by the operation of his own reason. He must examine a theory presented to him by other men exactly as he examines any fact of physical nature, by the same method, through the same act of independent rational judgment. He is as alone in the presence of an idea as in the presence of a jungle. He can make an error; so can any other man; so can any number of other men. The fact that others hold an idea to be true is no proof of its truth. The idea must be examined on its own merits by his own mind. Nothing else is relevant, nothing and nobody. The responsibility of final judgment is still his. The immutable question remains: “Is this true?”—not “Do others believe this to be true?” ([Note added later:] But truth is not “subjective.” Only the responsibility is.)

  In the delicate, exacting, infinitely strenuous process of reason, there is one deadly consideration man must escape, a trap which, once closed upon him, stops the process dead: the conception of other men as authority. If, at any point in the process, man makes a step because others tell him to, if he accepts a conclusion based on nothing but the unexamined pronouncement of others, if that alien judgment assumes the role of an unquestioned ruler in his mind—his rational process is ended (in this specific instance).

  It does not matter whether the idea he accepted is true or false. The act of substituting the word of others for one’s own judgment is an act of suspending one’s rational faculty—the primary act of man’s self-destruction.

  And thus the first condition required for the operation of man’s rational faculty, the demand inherent in its nature, is independence. Man’s independence from all other men. The reasoning mind can accept no outside authority. It cannot work under any form of compulsion. It cannot be curbed, sacrificed or subordinated to any consideration whatsoever. Nor to any other man. Nor to any number of other men. The rational faculty demands total independence—in function, in action, in motive.

  The man who surrenders this independence destroys his means of survival. He surrenders the responsibility of thought. Then others must carry it and he will live as a parasite on the products of their thinking. But who are the “others”? If every man waits for others to do the thinking he will borrow—no thinking will be done. Then no man can survive.

  The man who surrenders this primary independence commits the act of slipping below his nature, into the sub-human. He will survive for a while—as a parasite survives, not as a man. He will be able to satisfy his physical needs—by the grace of those who had the strength to remain men. But nothing will stop the disintegration of his spirit—because he is acting against the nature of man, he is acting on the principle that represents man’s destruction.

  If “Man exists and must survive as man” is the axiom of man’s morality, then the first moral principle deduced from it, the first commandment to guide man in his relations with other men, is the principle of independence. Independence of man from men is the Life Principle. Dependence of man upon men is the Death Principle. All that which proceeds from man’s independence is good. All that which proceeds from man’s dependence upon men is evil.

  To preserve the independence of his mind is man’s first and highest moral duty. It stands above any other precept. It takes precedence in any conflict.

  Man’s first moral duty is to himself. No other man can have a claim upon him [that supersedes this right]. This right is primary. All relations of man to other men are secondary.

  Left alone, man has a single alternative: think or perish. When man lives in the society of other men, the working intelligence and productive energy of others give him the possibility of another alternative: think or be supported by the thinking of others. Without effort, ability or responsibility, he has a margin of time at his disposal, a margin which he might believe to include his whole lifespan, when he can survive as a parasite. Most societies man has known have made this form of survival seem easier and more practical [than independence]. ([Note added later:] Be more specific. Illustrate.)

  The choice man makes here is the crucial choice; primary in its nature, based on the manner of his survival, on the issue of life or death, this choice will determine all his subsequent behavior, his actions, his motives, his character, the style of his soul. ([Note added later:] Because it is the basic principle.) This choice is the root of good and evil.

  We are far removed from the immediate realities of the process through which man obtains his sustenance; a complicated society and the heritage of centuries behind us disguise the primary forms of that process, and have disguised it for man since the beginning of recorded history. So the basic choice assumes a different form in the minds of men. The essence of the choice remains: producer or parasite. The form becomes: independence or dependence.

  This is the only real division among men. These are the two irreconcilable antagonists within the human species. Every other distinction—of birth, race, class, position—is artificial and superficial. This one is fundamental—and it is made by voluntary choice. Each man classifies himself.

  What makes man choose to be a parasite? A great many motives, of which the common denominator is fear. Independence is a terrifying responsibility. Man has gone to any length and any depravity in trying to circumvent the fact that his survival is in his own hands and that no outside power can offer it to him as a gift. [The motives are] fear of responsibility, fear of effort, fear of his own incompetence, envy of the abler and the better endowed, greed for unearned and undeserved rewards. ([Note added later:] And he has been taught to regard independence as evil.)

  The modes of survival of the producer and the parasite are diametrically opposed; so the conditions they require in order to function are opposite; their needs are opposite; their codes of behavior are opposite. [...]

  Such are the Active Man and the Passive Man.

  The Active Man is the producer, the creator, the individualist, the egotist, the life giver.

  The Passive Man is the parasite, the imitator, the borrower, the collectivist, the altruist, the death-carrier.

  As we shall demonstrate fully when we examine them both in action and in detail.

  September 29, 1943

  Theorem II: The Life Giver—the Active Man

  Since man’s physical survival depends upon his rational faculty, the realm of his mind precedes and determines every other sphere of his activity. That which is not proper in this realm cannot be proper in any of his actions.