Atlas Shrugged Redux?

I first wrote this post in November of 2012 (roughly 8 years ago), and the world has changed for the worst since then. The chapter of history initiated back then has continued and worsened, by far. So I am reposting now, with some additions to reflect our current situation so that readers might grasp how what is now occurring began.

If timing is everything, then what is contained in this post is nothing. Our world will change tomorrow either toward a return to tried and failed policies that nearly brought the world to the financial abyss or continue with policies that may sustain us for a few more years. What lies beyond those years is anyone’s guess. My timing is admittedly lousy, but the message is critical.

For those of you who are not familiar with Ayn Rand and her views of Laissez-faire (e.g., the government is a demon that saps society of economic incentives and thus becomes the prime-mover of downfall), allow me to provide a short primer.  Atlas Shrugged was considered by Rand as her magnum opus—her greatest achievement as a writer. The book was written in 1957 and portrays a dogmatically dystopian United States where many of society’s most productive citizens refuse to be exploited by increasing taxation and government regulations, and they go on strike. The strike attempted to illustrate that when those most responsible for the engine of economic growth are stifled, society will collapse.

The book was a huge success, championed the spirit of libertarian, entrepreneurial creativity, depicted the government and the less fortunate as blood-sucking leeches who robbed the rightful wealthy of their hard-earned rewards. Rand’s economic philosophies were so convincing that they guided the fiscal policies instituted by Alan Greenspan—Chairman of the Federal Reserve of the United States from 1987 to 2006. Greenspan was appointed by Ronald Reagan in August 1987 and was reappointed at successive four-year intervals until retiring on January 31, 2006—the second-longest tenure of anyone holding that position. During his tenure, the nation’s wealth was increasingly polarized into the hands of a shrinking number of individuals. And less and less into the hands of those who enabled their prosperity.

On the surface, Rand’s philosophy (and Greenspan’s policies) seemed to make good economic sense within a free enterprise system, except for one crucial detail: Greed, which, when left unchecked, caused the near-collapse of the world’s interconnected economies in the year following the end of Greenspan’s reign. 

The financial crisis of 2007–2008 was considered by many economists to be the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression of the 1930s (until now). This crisis did not come about suddenly but rather resulted from Greenspan’s policies that encouraged imbalance. The crisis resulted in the threat of total collapse of large financial institutions, banks’ bailout by the federal governments, and downturns in stock markets worldwide.

In October 2008, Greenspan testified before Congress and acknowledged that “Those of us who have looked to the self-interest of lending institutions to protect shareholders’ equity (myself especially) are in a state of shocked disbelief…I made a mistake in presuming that the self-interests of organizations, specifically banks and others, were such that they were best capable of protecting their own shareholders and their equity in the firms.” 

Greenspan assumed the best of the captains of industry and discovered, quite to his surprise, that the nature of man, in an unenlightened state of mind, favors their own self-interests instead of the “…self-interests of organizations…” The Buddha gave forewarning of this inclination 2,500 years ago, but few then and fewer now paid much attention. The heart of darkness is egotism, the perverse attitude of mind that says, “Me first, and none for you.”

Both Rand and Greenspan are no longer, but their legacy lingers. In a nation such as our own—based on individual liberties and a competitive, “free” enterprise system—the notion of freedom becomes, at times, a slippery slope. There have been more than a few variations of the following quote (e.g., coming from different sources), but the essential spirit is the same, regardless of who said it. The quote is this: “The right to swing my fist ends where the other man’s nose begins.”

This morning Paul Krugman (opinion columnist with the New York Times) posted an online article titled, “How Many Americans Will Ayn Rand Kill?.” And his message was timely. What he said wasn’t about striking someone’s nose, but something far more ominous—spreading the coronavirus by those shouting to the highest hills they have a right to exercise their individual liberties and do as they damn well, please.

There is no argument with that fundamental, constitutional right so long as their choice doesn’t affect others. The same point applies to the second amendment right to bear arms or spreading second-hand smoke (which by latest count kills 41,000 people every year in the US and affects many more with chronic respiratory diseases), or other examples. But that is chump-change compared to the number of infections now running rampant throughout our country and beyond. The staggering pandemic numbers are no longer reliable since they climb upward moment by moment, daily. Still, there is little question (to intelligent, not self-absorbed people, with some remaining common sense) that infections are skyrocketing due to irresponsible, deluded individuals.

Krugman’s observations, and my own, run counter to the spreading attitudes about preserving liberties that accompany the spreading virus. By no means does this critique minimize the suffering of thousands who need to get back to “normal” living. All of us need that. But there is one indisputable reality here: There is a 100% probability that living is the most dangerous thing we do. Nobody gets out of here alive. All of us will die a natural death, one day, in many different ways.

The only relevant issue is not if we will die, but when and how. That is not a matter of liberties. Suffering is a certainty in our conditional world. All conditional things go through the same process of birth, growth, and inevitable mortal death. And that begs the question of who and what we truly are and the implications for mortal life. 

Many believe we are nothing more than a conditional bag of bones. I, and those spiritually inclined, believe we are more than that. The religious answer (regardless of persuasion) maintains that within this bag of bones lives a spirit that animates us sustains us and never dies. That is who and what we genuinely are. And that should give us all hope. The implication of that view is that mortal life is critical for what comes next. “If with a pure mind a person speaks or acts happiness follows him like his never-departing shadow.”—The Buddha. And if you prefer that thought from a Christian perspective, consider this: 

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”—The Christ (John 15:13), probably the most misunderstood passage in the entire New Testament. Why? Because, as originally written in Koine Greek (The ancient language employed to write the New Testament), the passage really means, Greater love has no man than this: to lay aside one’s ideas for one’s friends. How so? Because of two Koine Greek words, mistranslated into English. The first of those words is ἀγάπην (agape, meaning unconditional love, the only kind that is the nature of God), and the second word is ψυχὴν, psychēn, meaning ideas. Psychēn is the root word that should be translated into English as psyche (the basis of psychology, psychiatry, psyche, etc.).

This diatribe’s bottom line is simple: Liberty is not freedom when we exercise our constitutional rights and harm another. Your right ends at the tip of my nose. We claim to be a nation of compassionate people, but that is brought into question when what we choose to do, a right or not, violates others’ well-being.