The Journals of Ayn Rand (77 page)

Now it is this aspect of genius which I must show—not the pure, consistent genius that Roark is—but the divided victim which most geniuses have been. John Galt is the Roark in the story, but the others are not, and it is against the exploitation by the world, particularly this spiritual exploitation, that Galt teaches them to strike.
Characters needed
John Galt
—energy. Activity, competence, initiative, ingenuity, and above all
intelligence.
Independent rational judgment. The man who conquers nature, the man who imposes his purpose on nature. Therefore, Galt is an inventor, a practical scientist, a man who faces the material world of science as an adventurer faces an unexplored continent, or as a pioneer faced the wilderness—something to use, to conquer, to turn to his own purposes. In relation to the creators—
he is the avenger.
(He is
“the motor of the world.”)
A man who is the most tragic victim of collectivist exploitation.
He is the one who finds it so hard to break the ties. Hank Rearden—possibly a great, self-made industrialist, torn by the naivete of his own generosity.
The martyred artist.
The composer (Dietrich Gerhardt, who supports his own torturers); the girl-writer. [
AR replaced Gerhardt with the somewhat different character of Richard Halley
.]
The great man made into a parasite in his private life (or made miserable).
A man who thinks he must pay a price for selfishness.
The great man who refuses to function and is destroying himself.
Probably a minor character.
The genius who accepts anything if only he’d be left free to function.
This is Dietrich Gerhardt.
The young girl who supports a whole family (or the honest kind of tough worker like Mike).
The industrialist’s secretary. The worker who fights against Taggart and for Rearden. (She understands the issue.)
The philosopher.
A kind of Ortega y Gasset—vaguely. A kind of Aristotle if he came back to life today. Or even Thomas Aquinas.
The farmer.
A man of action [who opposes] the parasites in the most basic, simplest terms.
Dagny’s employee.
The ship owner who sank his ships rather than let them be nationalized (probably an Englishman). (Gerald Hastings)
The priest.
Father (medieval name), who is the last of the strikers. He withdraws the moral sanction from the world of the parasites. (He represents the last stand for pity.)
The traitor.
The man in-between who has both potentialities, could go both ways, tries to see both sides, attempting a compromise. He turns out to be the one most destructive to the side of the creators, the one contributing most to the parasites—which he himself cannot stand, therefore he destroys himself. (He accomplishes James Taggart’s triumph over him.) Stan Winslow. (He is also an example of the two potentialities in the lesser man.)
The man who goes insane on the idea of charity
—a kind of “Dostoyevsky.”
The average man.
The actual in-between, who goes to the good in a society of producers, to the bad in a society of parasites. He can be an older executive of TT—who, at the end, realizes the horror of his position.
The man who makes a virtue of evil
—who claims that his lack of conviction is a virtue, a sign of some sort of breadth of vision: “To have convictions is to wear blinders.” The damn fool confuses a view of the opinions of others with a view of reality.
The mystic of parasitism
—another “Mr. Smith” of Washington.
James Taggart’s “best friend,” “pull,” and guide.
James Taggart’s wife
(“the Cinderella girl”). She may be an example of the average woman going to pieces without spiritual guidance (and going through hell with J.T.).
The man corroded by envy of genius
—because he knows that his miserable little achievement is swamped out by the magnificent achievement of the genius. He knows enough to recognize the difference—yet his conclusion is that the genius must be destroyed to protect
him.
That means, by his own definition, that the best must be destroyed for the sake of the worst. This is the monstrous kind of second-hander’s selfishness—the primary consideration here being in the others and in measuring one’s value by comparison. He considers his own talent worthless, because the talent of the genius is greater—therefore, to be best, he must destroy the genius; his standard of perfection is not absolute, but relative, he wants to do, not the best possible, but the best others will see. ([Note
added later:
] No.
The man who does this
has no
“little” achievement—whatever he has is stolen.)
This [latter] man against Galt in the final climax is a good possibility. His most revealing line: “The genius destroys the individuality of the lesser men.” (?!) (But the god-damn “lesser men” feed on the genius—and that’s why they hate him. This is the fable of the pig and the oak tree.) [
In the fable, the pig uproots the oak tree to get the acorns, thus destroying his source of food.
]
If the “lesser men” don’t want to imitate or follow the genius—then he can’t destroy their “individuality.” But if they do want to follow, if it’s to their advantage—then what is it that they resent? Obviously—the impression in the eyes of others. They become “followers,” not “great innovators” in the eyes of others. And what “others” does he want to fool? “Lesser men” or “geniuses”? Both, of course, and, above all, himself.
No—not quite. One type simply wants to steal; the other—this type—wants himself and others brought down. (Or are both motives intermixed?) This is the man who has a direct interest in the destruction of genius—steal their achievements, take the credit for your two cents’ worth of “improvement,” and destroy them, so nobody can challenge you. And then look for another victim.
The line-up so far:
The creators:
The parasites:
James Taggart
The industrialist’s wife
The industrialist’s mistress and other friends
A “head of the State”—on the order of Truman [
President at the time
of these notes
]
Businessmen on the order of Bobbs-Merrill
The in-between:
Eddie Willers (to the good)
Stan Winslow (to the bad)
The man of charity (to the
very
bad)
The strikers (in order of importance):
John Galt
Francisco d‘Anconia
Ragnar Danneskjöld
The philosopher
The composer
Gerald Hastings (the ship owner)
Have characters (or incidents or both) dramatize a world in which:
the best has been turned into a source of evil (Danneskjöld); competence is the source of failure (the young engineer or the girl-writer); life energy is the source of destruction (Francisco d‘Anconia); the capacity for joy is the source of the most terrible suffering (the composer, the girl-writer, the industrialist).
“This is what we have done. Now let us stop it.”
Here, in effect, the pattern is this: when men refuse to live according to the principles of the good, the principles proper to them, the best among them are forced to turn against them, to become a danger, an enemy, a source of evil to them. (Because the
good
has been declared to be the
evil.)
In a proper society, Danneskjöld would have been a Columbus, the source of infinite benefit to lesser men; in a society of collectivism, he is forced to become a smuggler. Nothing will make him act against his own nature; he will rather act against mankind and all their laws. Danneskjöld doesn’t even bother to argue about it; he just acts.
(This is important.)
 
 
April II, 1946
The worst victim: the industrialist
(probably steel): self-made, extremely active, extremely generous, extremely naive.
His wife: a decadent society bitch—neither too beautiful, nor too rich, nor too well-born, but some of all of it. She does not need his prestige or money—her sole aim in life is to keep him down spiritually, to snub and ridicule him, destroy his every personal aspiration, humble him so that she may feel her own personal superiority through the sense of crushing a giant.
His sister: a clever, charming, and empty bitch who uses him unmercifully in every way—socially, professionally, financially—under guise of her “understanding.” Her one concern is always to make him feel that she gives him more than she receives, to keep him thinking himself “under obligation”—[she does] this by means of the “spiritual,” as against his gifts which she considers “grossly material.”
His brother:
a swindling [failure] who is “ashamed of his brother” and drools that he has no chance because his brother “crushes” him. A socialist.
His mother:
an empty old bag who will never let go of the pretense that her son “owes everything to his mother”—who much prefers her younger son, a worthless failure—and who makes the industrialist’s life miserable by constant demands that he “make up to his brother” for his own success.
Assorted poor relatives and friends
—who “knew him when”—whose sole theme-song is: “Don’t you go high-hat on us,” and who feel that he’s betrayed “his people” by rising above them. And they use him unmercifully. To not “go high-hat on them” means to turn his soul and pocket-book over to them.
His secretary:
his exact parallel on a smaller scale. As competent and honest as he is, and plagued by the same set of parasites with the same motives, though superficially different.
The scene where the [industrialist and his secretary] realize the similarity of their tragedy. This is either the final or one of the important scenes leading to both of them joining the strike.
Disconnected bits:
For Eddie Willers and the last train: “Dagny, in the name of the best within us! ...”

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