The Journals of Ayn Rand Page 35

  In answer to the argument that “man doesn’t know what is best for him—in this day of specialization a man cannot know what is best for him as well as a doctor can.” First, the primary choice is still with the man—does he wish to call in a doctor and what doctor? If he doesn’t want any, no moral right can force him, even though he might die. He has the right to choose to die. Freedom includes the right to make mistakes. There’s no definition of what’s good for a man—except that which a man chooses as good for himself. He is the final and total judge of that—provided his choice does not include the use of force upon other men. (Incidentally, doctors can be wrong, and so can engineers, and any specialists. There is no [automatically] defined good for everybody. Only the right to choose one’s own good. To suffer through the consequences of one’s own error is a proper part of the existence of a being endowed with free will. But to suffer through the mistake of another which is forced on one for one’s own good is an inexcusable, unnatural evil.) [For AR’s view of the good as objective, see “What is Capitalism? ” in Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal.]

  But second, and most important: if the choice here is between a genius subjected to the will of a moron or a moron deprived of the help of a genius—the first is the evil, the second not. Here is a good case of the sins of commission and omission. The first is a positive sin of commission. The second is only a sin of omission—which is not a sin. (This distinction must be covered very thoroughly, completely and unanswerably. It is a cardinal point; it is the root and source of altruism.)

  Minor point: if the majority of men cannot know what is good for them, each for himself, how can they know what is good for others by proxy? If they are to be controlled by “specialists,” because they cannot know everything themselves, how and by what standards will they choose the specialists? This is where communism runs into fascism—the rule of a collective by an elite for the sake of the collective.

  How many men are incapable of living by independent effort in a system of free enterprise, based on merit? Only a small, subnormal minority are incapable. Thus collectivism is not even the sacrifice of a brilliant minority for the sake of the average majority—but the sacrifice of everybody, of the majority, to the worst and lowest minority: the incompetent and subnormal. Collectivism is not even “the greatest good for the greatest number,” silly and vile as such a formula is. Collectivism is the sacrifice of the greatest number for the greatest good of the vilest and smallest number. And besides, it won’t work—even for the benefit of the morons.

  October 26, 1944

  A possible definition of a right: a “right” is that which it is morally permissible to defend by force. Here I have to be very careful. This might be totally wrong. If carelessly handled, it could be used as justification for the right of a communist to murder an employer who does not give him a job. Again, “sins of omission” come in. This is only a hint, a possible clue to be thought out very carefully, from every possible angle and in every possible application. It is no good—unless a total proof of it can be given. As a clue to it: it would have to be clearly stated that only that which does not depend primarily upon other men can be considered “a right”—such as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But again—the definition of the principle and its application in reality has to be given—“the long-range and the immediate.” Such as: “My happiness depends on my work—what about the man who refuses to give me the job I want?” Here again—the definition of basic individualism in an exchange society. (Clue: Nobody is forced to provide you with the means of exercising a right. But nobody must stop you from exercising it.) [See “Man’s Rights” in The Virtue of Selfishness for AR’s final definition.]

  Could it be that virtues (toward other men, socially only) are virtues of omission, while sins are only of commission? There’s something important here. Of course, the real and primary virtues are individual and positive, virtues of commission, such as: integrity, courage, wisdom, honesty, independence. But in the social realm—in relation to others—the virtues are all of omission, that is, hands off. While the sins are of commission—positive violence.

  The whole relation of man to society has to be defined, its proper order stated: Man, the entity, first—then his relation to society. Society is only the sum of individuals, therefore the order is natural, logical and proper: individual entity, rights, and morality first, then the secondary matters pertaining to society, to the established entity’s relation with others. If relations are placed first—who is it that’s having relations, whom are we talking about?

  In any clash between the individual and the social, the individual must win, the individual has the right and the priority. (But be sure that the individual is strictly individual and clearly defined as such.)

  October 28, 1944

  The force which a proper government exercises against criminals is not in defense of society, but of an individual. A murderer did not hurt “society”—he killed an individual man. He violated, not a “social” right, but an individual right. Secondarily, the punishment of a murderer benefits society [because] society cannot exist unless individual rights are protected. Here again, the social is secondary, a natural consequence of the individual—and beneficial only in that secondary manner.

  This point is extremely important. It is the sloppy fallacy that a policeman protects “society”—that he is there to combat crimes against society—that creates the acceptance of the idea that we can exercise force for the “social” good. There is no “social good” and it can never be defined. Only in serving individual good can we accomplish any social good at all. And the clear, objective standards defining the individual good are inalienable individual rights. Force can be exercised only in the protection of these rights. [Here we see AR’s respect for the rights of every man, genius or not; her individualism has led her away from Nietszche. ]

  The policeman is not protecting a community (a collective) against single individual malefactors. He is protecting individuals against the possibility of collective violence. The only protection the individual needs is against the collective, and the only action which a collective can take (as a collective) is violence—physical force. A society based on the prohibition of the exercise of physical force between its members is an anti-collectivist society. (Force is the only specifically “collective” method.)

  (Breach of contract comes under the same category. If a man is up against a single man and a contract is broken, the man can deal with the breaker by force. But he cannot [protect himself] if the breaker has a collective of followers under his command. Then the intervention of government—of law to protect contracts—is needed, because this keeps the issue between two men and their rights, allowing no recourse to violence in which the man with the most followers would win. Again, a contract society is an anti-collectivist society.)

  November 6, 1944

  The art of writing is the art of doing what you think you’re doing.

  This is not as simple as it sounds. It implies a very difficult undertaking: the necessity to think. And it implies the requirement to think out three separate, very hard problems: What is it you want to say? How are you going to say it? Have you really said it?

  It’s a coldly intellectual process. If your emotions do not proceed from your intellect, you will not be able to apply it, even if you know all the rules. The mental ability of a writer determines the literary level of his output. If you grasp only home problems well, you’ll be only a writer of good homey stories. (But what about Tolstoy?)

  February 13, 1945

  Note on altruism: in private and voluntary instances of help to another person (and this is only kindness, not altruism) it works well only when the recipient of help is a worthwhile person (essentially an “action” person) who is temporarily in need, purely through accident, not through his own nature. Such a person eventually gets back on his own feet and feels benevolence (or gratitude) toward the one who helped him. But when the recipient is essentially a “passive” person, chronically in need through his own nature, the help of another gets him deeper into parasitism and has vicious results: he hates the benefactor. Therefore, here’s the paradox about “helping another”: one can help only those who don’t actually need it. With the others, help leads only to disaster. Help is proper only in a catastrophe or emergency—such as rescuing a drowning man. It seems right by the very nature of things: a catastrophe is the opposite of the normal; therefore, that which is proper in a catastrophe is the opposite of that proper to a normal, healthy human existence.

  Besides, all instances of legitimate help seem to be of a physical nature—rescues in illness or physical disaster. The possibility of spiritual help seems doubtful. Incidental assistance—yes. Real, crucial help—no. But material wealth is the result and consequence of a spiritual effort—work and thought. Why should it be distributed according to a rule (altruism) inapplicable to the primary sphere, to its source, the spiritual life of man?

  Proper relation of men—justice. A fair exchange to mutual advantage—not charity. No, not in any way. A man owes his fairest judgment to another man—nothing else. This is a moral law—up to each man, not to be imposed by force or by the state.

  March 25, 1945

  “Only a man fit for solitude is fit for human association.” He must bring an entity to his relationship with others; otherwise his own vacuum creates a suction, he must feed on the substance of others, he becomes “a second-hander who cannot exist except as a leech on the soul of others.”

  June 29, 1945

  [AR now critiques her original draft. The foreword is referred to here as the “Introduction ”; “Axiom” is Chapter 1; “Theorem 1: The Basic Alternative” is Chapter 2; “Theorem 2: The Life Giver—the Active Man” is Chapter 3.] br />
  Notes on the written part of The Moral Basis of Individualism Introduction

  Excellent in content and general effect. Bad in language—too journalistic and uncertain. Shaky. No unity of style, because no unity of method and approach. Reorganize and rewrite, keeping the same beginning and end. Go easy on and be careful of “journalistic” references—keep them specific and general at once—general primarily, and specific only to the extent needed to drive the idea home, only in the nature of a concrete illustration. (But remember that it must be clear to the contemporary reader, and clear to any reader at any time. When in doubt, aim for the latter.)

  In speaking of [altruism in history], cover the point that your statement holds true even if most of the followers of an altruistic leader acted for “selfish” material gain. (Such as—“the real purpose of the Crusades was Oriental trade.”) If [the motives were selfish], why didn’t the leaders recruit men for the purpose of “selfish” looting? And—if an ideal is such a handy cover-up for the lowest “selfish” purposes—isn’t there something wrong with the ideal? Isn’t it because the ideal cannot be defined and is impossible to practice?

  Chapter I

  To cover more thoroughly the [point that] “reason” is the determining faculty of man: it is obvious that man’s physical survival and progress have been achieved only through his reason. If that is the prime law of the survival of his body—can his soul (or spirit, or consciousness) have a contradictory, opposite prime law of survival? Reason is a faculty of the spirit. Applied to the physical realm it has performed miracles. It has never been applied consistently to the spiritual realm—to ethics, which is the code of spiritual laws—and look at the state of our morality!

  If we cannot survive without our rational faculty, our prime laws of conduct must be those required by the rational faculty.

  Chapter I should begin by stating the axiom. Then define man’s nature. Then ask [AR interrupts her thought, crossing out the preceding two words]. Or—begin by asking whether a moral code is necessary? Prove that it is-for a rational being. What is the rational? That which is true to facts. To exist one must be true to facts. If one goes contrary to the facts of existence—one perishes, simply by being or making oneself unfit for existence. [Here we see AR grasping the crucial point that ethics begins by asking not “What are the right values? ” but rather “Why are values necessary? ”]

  What is the rational? To be right. What is the moral? To be (or do) right. (Why is the same term used?) A code of ethics must be totally, profoundly, completely practical—or else it is a means of self-destruction (as altruism is). It is altruism that has caused the idea that morality is “impractical,” something for which one must suffer, that “virtue is its own reward,” meaning its only reward, and that “idealism” or “theory” are the opposite of reality and practice.

  [Regarding the point that man must choose to be man:] This might be the place for the statement that: “Man screams in terror at his own greatness, begging by every possible means to be delivered from it. The greatness is being a free agent.”

  Chapter I is not well-organized; it leaps into side-lines, does not follow a straight progression. Reorganize the material and the order of presentation.

  When you speak of “reason” and “the rational faculty,” illustrate the concrete application of what you mean once in a while.

  Chapter II

  An additional point here: if someone says “But so many crucial mental conclusions in a man’s life are made under the influence of other men (or proceed from other men)”—the answer is: “Quite so. For some men. But some other man had to think of it in the first place. Even if it’s only a small improvement on the material left by others—if it is an improvement and a new step, some one man had to think of it.” And as general historical illustration and proof—the greatest achievements and advances were made in individualist societies, when men worked alone—not in collectivist ones, where men were encouraged and forced to work together. Also, the great epoch-making discoveries (such as the Wright brothers’ airplane) were made by single, individual men. Only the minor improvements and variations are made by collectivists (such as the boasted discoveries of Nazi Germany or Soviet Russia). There is almost a law here: if a man gets his major impetus from the material (or influence) of others, he is of lesser stature than the man who strikes out the farthest by himself. And the achievement of the first will be less than that of the second.

  Point to cover: Edison, born in the jungle, would not have invented the electric light. But he would have invented the torch—or some other equivalent of his achievement—equivalent in the sense of a tremendous step forward in comparison to what was known before. The savage who died in the swamp at that time, having achieved nothing, still exists today—he is every man who has never held a thought of his own. It is not society that made Edison’s achievement possible (nor the social heritage)—it is Edison.

  The important point: the thoughts of others (the heritage of civilization) can be of tremendous help to man—but only if weighed, examined and accepted by his own reason. They become a death trap and a menace when accepted merely on the authority of other men.

  [Regarding the disintegration of spirit in the parasite:] Clarify this thought. I mean here: if he persists in this action or to the extent to which he persists. He may still act as a rational being in other spheres—but the poison is planted and will continue to grow. And—the more he indulges in the non-rational (the second-hand), the more he acts on the death principle and the faster he comes to one form or another of actual destruction.

  [Regarding social relations:] Before you come to “any principle as a guide in his relations to other men,” cover the point of how the morality of reason applies to man alone—even to a man on a desert island. The first commandment is to exercise his reason. Morality is not social (and don’t forget the evils that come from thinking that it is). Only after you have established this, can you come to morality in relation to other men. [Here we see AR’s transition, in regard to the primary virtue, from independence to rationality.]

  [Regarding the choice to be a parasite:] This needs the added statement that the degree of a man’s intelligence is not the essential, determining factor here—the exercise of his intelligence is. (And a necessary addition to this is: if you cannot venture independently into difficult intellectual spheres—don’t venture into them. There is no moral obligation to know and solve everything, to have an independent judgment upon everything. There is a moral obligation that such judgments as you do hold must be your own. Let your sphere of concern be as large or as small as you feel capable of handling (and you’re the sole judge here)—but it must be the sphere of your independent rational judgment. There is never an obligation upon man to handle more than his intellect will permit him. If he finds himself in a position where it seems that he has to—he has brought it upon himself, through second-handedness. If a writer steals, because he cannot invent, he had no business being a writer. The test for a person in any field is the question: What do I know about this by myself, without having heard it from others?)