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Book Reviews

Ayn Rand: The Failure of Mind as God

From my blog

Ayn Rand (1905-1982) was the great white hope of atheists determined to commandeer rationality. Her philosophy, “Objectivism,” was unique in its separation from the sensualists and its rejection of relativism. She did, nevertheless, hold man’s “own happiness as the moral purpose of his life,” and thus hearkens to John Stuart Mill.

Rand was influenced by Aristotle, Aquinas, and Nietzsche; from Aristotle she took the rational premise, “A is A.” She vehemently attacked every type of gnosticism and every form of empiricism, refuting the notion of what she called “the primacy of consciousness.” The primacy of consciousness is the cornerstone of postmodern thought: the notion that man’s conscious perception defines reality. Thus in this arena, Rand and Dabney were allies.

Unfortunately, Rand’s Objectivism is an atheistic system. While appearing rational in its propounding of an objective reality independent of consciousness, Objectivism also advocates that no divine consciousness underlies reality. Perception does not define reality, but neither is there a creator, nor a soul. The human mind is the moving force behind man’s potential, and man’s potential as a fully self-actuated individual is the only object of interest to the Objectivist. Nothing that came before is of any interest at all.

Rand rejected religion, as she did postmodern philosophy, as “evil” and “irrational.” She dismissed religion categorically as irrational because its premise is altruistic. Rand likened the alliance she perceived between church and state to “Attila and the Witch Doctor”–perhaps one of her more compelling insights.

The mind of man, according to Objectivism, is simply here, a priori, the most important thing in the universe, and not to be hindered. There is nothing higher and nothing more potentially rational. “Potentially” is the operative term here; Rand considered virtually everyone outside of her small coterie of followers to be irrational.

Rand was untroubled by any considerations of “where it all came from.” In an interview with Bill Moyers, Moyers asked Rand whether she was not impressed with all the things of creation around her. Her candid response: “Not really, no.” That which did not originate within her mind was unworthy of the further exercise of her mind.

Although Rand faulted Hobbes, her philosophy, as did his, held self-interest to be the bonding force of civilization. Self-interest was the greatest virtue in the Objectivist scheme, and altruism the greatest evil. She differed from Hobbes largely because of her “Benevolent Universe” world view. By what algorithm she reconciled benevolence with a contempt for altruism is unclear. As for the “why” behind the benevolent universe, she would not be accountable. It simply was. Self-existence implies self-existent properties.

Rand’s novels depict heroic humans with godlike brilliance of achievement; they are, in fact, creators. Titanic battles take place between creators and destroyers. Meekness was not the key to the Objectivist kingdom.

Rand, who emigrated from Bolshevik Russia, held strong anti-Communist convictions. The prevailing theme in her novels, as well her nonfiction, is the individual pitted against the collective. While rightly vilifying the unthinking and parasitic collective, Rand wrongly deified the mind. Sadly, she failed to apprehend atheism as the fatal essence of Communism.

Unfortunately, Rand’s scenarios are stage-set after a staunch Calvinist work ethic; but rather than accountability to God for one’s moral parameters, there is accountability only to the “rational self-interest” of her creator-heroes. Nor do her heroes lean toward a Calvinist chastity ethic. And they occasionally find it justifiable to kill someone who gets in their way.

An affair with her protégé undid Rand’s moral credibility, and with it, the credibility of Objectivism as a moral system sustained in self-will. Atheism lost a paragon in which to billet its cause.

Rand was right: Reality is objective. It is not subject to change according to men’s whims or perceptions. But Rand was wrong: Rational self-interest is unavailable to the perception of the natural man. The natural man’s self-interest cannot be rational because the natural man is not rational. He does not seek God because he believes he can live by his own reasoned righteousness. Man’s only true rational self-interest lies in his salvation from sin through belief in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Ultimately, Objectivism is a philosophy of self-will, self-interest, and self-undoing.

Ayn Rand was buried, at her own request, wearing her wedding ring, a photograph of her husband placed in her hands.

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Devotion

The House of Mill: All Mirrors, No Windows

This is from my blog, Board Housewife & The Cat

I am still reading Dabney to the Cat. He takes it in through his senses. James and son John Stuart Mill would posit that I, if I formulate any ideas about their work, am experiencing “copies of single sensations.”

The Cat, whose ideation begins and ends with his own sensory learning, disbelieves Mill. The Cat learns everything in one take and finds insulting the idea of copies of his own uniquely perfect sensations.

The Cat does not think that I am as capable a learner as he. According to Mill, the Cat would be right. But the Cat would still be a lower animal in Mill’s scheme, because he cannot name his sensations, and I can. I will not read that part to the Cat.

According to Mill, my cumulative learning and experience, from hot stovetops to jurisprudence, is a bundle of habits. (But how would he account for my bad habits of not learning from experience? I have burned myself more than once.) I have received no a priori input, not even language. I have learned nothing but that to which my senses have had the happy or unhappy occasion to be exposed. I am a perfectly revelation-proof being.

So that is how Mill proposes to escape God! God will never make it past those nerve bundles. Mill has devised a scheme to enable man to make himself inaccessible to revelation.

Once man acquires an idea through his senses, he will “mark,” or “name” it, so that he can remember it, so that he may repeat it or not, depending on whether it was enjoyable or not. So man can define reality by naming what he likes. The logical corollary is, he may elect not to name anything he doesn’t like. Poof. All gone. No more unhappy thing.

I have encountered children who were unable to extrapolate because of brain damage. You could set up a simple arithmetic problem: put five oranges on a table, remove three, and show them that two were left. Then, if you put five apples on the table, you would have to start all over again. They had no idea what would happen if you removed three apples. Mill’s reasoning, notwithstanding his creditable intelligence, is similar. His scheme simply does not permit extrapolation. Each idea must be built on an identical chain of experiences. Since apprehension of God’s revelation of himself requires abstract thought, Mill’s refusal to abstract is another God-proofing mechanism.

Objective reality is necessarily elusive in Mill’s scheme. A rock, for instance, is a “permanent possibility of sensations.” We might as well vote on the meaning of that one.

Educators study John Stuart Mill today. (His work, according to Dabney, differed from his father’s by accentuating it at its most torqued.) They learn that the end of education is the individual’s happiness. Dabney notes this in his chapter on Mill: “Hence, it follows that moral education consists simply in establishing desirable associations between acts and consequences, by the frequent repetition of the right acts” (Robert L. Dabney, The Sensualistic Philosophy, Naphtali Press, 2003, p. 58.) But with no a priori information as to what “right” is, who can know what should be repeated? The senses, of course. Happy sensations are worth repeating.

Mill should not be accused of saying that men disregard the welfare of fellow men in favor of their own happiness. The bludgeoner does not have the right to bludgeon repeatedly because it makes him happy. Mill provides for moral categories of prudence and fortitude (duties to ourselves), and justice and benevolence (duties to our neighbors). However, some sort of unrevealed natural desire comes into play–there is, once again, no a priori revelation of what constitutes prudence or justice or benevolence. Men simply learn from experience what is pleasurable and what is painful. In a world without sin and sociopathy, this might even be thinkable. But we do not live in a world without sin and sociopathy. Nor, contrary to Mill’s premise, do we live in a world without revealed law.

Once again, the sensualist is lost in his own quagmire, attempting to God-proof himself. He has built a house of mirrors–surrounding himself with his own perceptions of the consequences of his own experiences–with no windows admitting the light of revelation.

…every man did that which was right in his own eyes. Ju 17:6; 21:25

For being ignorant of God’s righteousness, and seeking to establish their own, they did not subject themselves to the righteousness of God. Ro 10:3