Ayn Rand: Objectivism

Selfishness. Our society defines it, and deems it, morbid and repulsive. Selfishness exists in two forms. The first, selfishness to instincts, where, one acts arbitrarily based on their natural tendencies to eat food, acquire money, have sex, etc. Selfishness in this sense is foolish and pitiful. People bound by this selfishness act only to please their fluctuating whim and opinion. The second form of selfishness is truer to the word's inherent meaning. Selfishness in the refined sense is a quality of existence in which one acts only to please oneself, but on a higher level than instincts only, and with a fully involved conscious. It is this selfishness that Ayn Rand exposes as essential to the life of man.


Ayn Rand professes that men be selfish- selfishness, to her, becomes a virtue. Capitalism is then the ultimate economic actualization of this viewpoint under which all men strive towards furthering themselves in society. I am reading Atlas Shrugged, and have already completed The Fountainhead, and I find Ayn Rand's philosophy intriguing. I am enthralled primarily because it seems to connect with me on a deep level. The characters that embody Ayn Rand's virtue of selfishness in her novels are characters that engage their humanity fully, and live for whatever pleases them.

You have Howard Roark, an architect, whose sole purpose is to build- create- design. Through this work Roark finds ultimate fulfillment and joy, and as such he pursues it fully. A man with a purpose- that is the goal of a life. Objectivism advocates that men that live to their purpose become complete. These men are uncompromising, and the opinion that matters to them the most is their own. That is one aspect of Objectivism that I find very sensible. So many people corrupt themselves by living off others- "secondhand opinions" Ayn Rand labels them. So many people go shopping for clothes, asking themselves, "How do I look in this- what would other people think?" Very few people trust their own selves enough to abandon the worrisome question of "What do other people think."

In its essential meaning, selfishness is incredibly attractive. Ultimately, all men are separate. There should not be and seems not to be any force that commands men to be charitable in any way to their kinsmen. We are all individuals. Remaining true to oneself seems obvious, and is reflected in the multitude of people who pander their own instincts daily, addicted to the first form of selfishness. So why not extend this natural tendency to its true form- to dedicate our actions to really gratifying what we want. If you are interested in cooking food, learn it and open a business, recoil and hide at nothing that tries to stop you. It is not for the money, but for the unparalleled satisfaction that cooking gives yourself. Everyone has certain activities that in some way take them out of the world through the medium of the interest put in it. It is these activities that men should be truly devoted to- as Roark is with architecture.

Primarily, what I find in Ayn Rand's work is a complete form a man. Man as he is meant to be. That is appealing, and as much as I find myself naturally compelled to it, I am left with an apprehension that I will confront in another post in the next few days.

Also, who is John Galt?

Oh, Summer.

The Earth we live in is bursting with life and activity. Even despite the incessant hum of our engines machines factories trucks, our unending pollution and poison, the Earth prospers and grows, burgeoning with life. To look outside and witness the trees sprouting with color and vibrancy is endearing, to sit by a stream flowing softly can be more pleasant than any transient satisfaction found in television media and music. The world offers a paradise of life so grand and fulfilling, but in nearly every way is overlooked and neglected. Global warming and human extravagance is on the verge of seriously destabilizing the wonderful world we live in.

I suppose I am a man of nature by heart, and I gladly accept the thought that one should be capable of surviving without any dependence on physical objects, restraints or distractions. A ascetic philosophy like this lacks practicality, but I wish to hold true to the ideal. As such, I would say that nature in itself offers us everything we need to survive with and learn from. In many ways the tribes of Africa were incredibly more advanced than the greed imperialists that invaded and destroyed them by force.

The conventional conception of God relies on some type of life-changing, evangelizing philosophy, which is more dependent on an individual's perception of progress than any real truth. God today offers some type of an escape from the world, and only halfway satisfies the innate longing within people for fulfillment. However, God is merely a simpleton distraction from the truly chaotic and dismantled state of the world. Not a day in history has passed that some civilization on this planet has endured without fighting, robbing, arguing, and killing. Every human holds within himself the ability to improve and surpass the vices the restrict us all. Belief in God does nothing to encourage such a practice.

Edward

I was in a park near where I live the other day, of mere coincidence, after buying a cd at nearby Borders. I was parked, in the process of unwrapping the cd, when a homeless, or at least impoverished man approached me. There was no reason to be afraid, this was a friendly park and I have had many experiences like this before. The man, Edward, goes into a story about how his feet hurt really badly, he has diabetes, some mental disorder, this and that, etc. and needs money for a bus fare to return to his home a few cities away. I wanted to mention how the last two times I have been confronted by homeless men looking for money, the reason was the same: money for a bus trip to a nearby city, after being stranded here in some unfortunate manner. It is probably one of the most foolproof justifications to successfully ask for money from a stranger.

So the man needed money, and initially I was unwilling and annoyed, and prepared to say no. But he keep talking about this and that, mentioned God, and for some reason I was persuaded to let him know I believed in no such thing. So I told him. I told him I don't believe in God, I haven't for about a year and a half. He was curious as to why, and asked if something really traumatic had happened as the cause, the same question another one of my friends asked me just the other day when I told them the same thing. "No," I said. It was just a feeling, one day I just woke up and knew that I didn't and couldn't believe in God any longer. Incidentally one of my close friends died about two months later, but I can honestly say that played no role in my relationship with religion, and told him that as well. Edward proceeded to say "That's fine that's fine, everyone's got their own opinion and everything," and told me the reason he believed in God was because of his son. He told me that his son had died when he was eight years old and afterward he had nearly abandoned God, but reconsidered for the sole reason that if he was to really believe in God he would have a chance at seeing his son again someday. I decided that was fair and let him know that surely if there was such an "Almighty God" as so many people say there is then He would be capable of solving the mess off this world and setting it all right afterward, and in the meantime I shouldn't worry too much about it. One cannot decide to believe in something, especially a God, and if one does then that belief is hollow and worthless.

Either way, towards the end of this conversation I had an urge to give this guy a $20 bill I had in my wallet. It was not out of compassion, belief in his story, or hope that he would use it for anything approvable, only out of willingness to give it to him. What we do with what we are given is up to us. If he choose to go and buy drugs or alcohol or whatever that is his choice. So I gave him the money, he was extremely grateful, and requested a ride a few miles away to his grandmother's house where he was staying. I agreed, I was headed about that way anyways, and just decided to for the hell of it. We conversed about school, where he is from, what he did when he was younger, which was rope horses apparently, this and that, and eventually arrived at a run-down, pale colored apartment building with red, rusted stairs in the front. I let him out, and my suspicions of his intention were confirmed by his departure. I was skeptical from the start just by the nature of his story, and because I've heard it so many times before, but when I dropped him off, I asked for his name again, and said "You're welcome, I hope you make it back home." He shook my hand lightly, muttered a thanks, not nearly as enthusiastically as he had earlier, left the car, walked across the street, and around to the back of the apartment building without looking back once. As soon as he safely had what he wanted, he was done, and I meant nothing. To me, this is no surprise.

The reason I gave him what he wanted was, for one, I do believe in karma, and to some extent what we do will find its way back around to us. However this was not selfishness, I did not act out of hope for some good deed to be returned to me later. Karma establishes a mutual kinship between all humans, and for this world to survive those with power must be willing to give up their power. The eternal struggle between the classes of society, between the rich and poor, between the nobility and the oppressed, is embodied and defeated in the act of honoring another man's humanity and allowing him the trust one would allow anyone else. I never bought the authenticity of Edward's plea. The only tool the impoverished have is authenticity, honestly, or at least apparent honestly, to get what they want. Who am I to blame or condemn them to what we all do, but in different forms?

So he took the money and the ride, forgot me, and is off to do whatever the hell he wants. However, had I denied him the money I would not have prevented any self-destructive habit he had, only prolonged him from reaching it. If he wants to damage himself then so be it. The choices we make are ours and ours alone. I let him choose. That power was mine, and hopefully giving him the power to choose was better than actually giving him twenty dollars.

But I wonder if it was not all in vain. Futile. He doesn't care, I didn't lose much, he didn't gain much. What does it all matter? Should I have confronted him and asked him the truth? Would he have told me? Probably not. And honestly, I don't know, but truthfully I just felt obligated at the time to give someone else what they were asking for, simply out of my capacity to do so.

What's Missing

A scarlet sunset, wistfully I think of
Golden air, and the sound of laughter.
The dream of a broken heart,
In the sight of what's missing.

Dark binding bitterness, looming perilously,
Casting shadows of suppression and regret,
Tearing at the heart, mauling the mind,
The silent boast of what's missing.

But few care to listen.

The hand of a man,
looks to console, looks to conciliate.
But blindly it moves,
with an eye only for itself.

Patience it needs, heartlessness it takes,
The question of time wasted.
The hand grasps, straining,
Calls out, writhing.

But none can hear, none can hear.

Mellow and melancholy,
The hand moves dispassionately,
Uninterested in that which once held its' full attention,
Pondering whether it fate or curse that stole what's missing.

The sunset comes and goes, unnoticed, untold.
The man considers what exactly it was he lost,
Alas, not even he knows,
In the sight what's missing, what's missing.

Priesthood

I mentioned previously that I still attend church, despite being an atheist. Tonight, I attended the ordination of one of the church clergymen into priesthood. I was partially reluctant to go at first, because for one I had some work to finish, and for two I am rather disinterested in all the bureaucracy/hierarchy aspects of the church. I cannot manage to make any sense out of the idea that church workers 'rise in authority' like this and require special ceremonies in order to celebrate their 'official' ascendancy throughout the church. As if a document or ceremony could validate a position or mindset. In the same way a diploma does not affirm one's completion of high school an ordination in no way authenticates one's faith. I simply can't get over the multitude of celebrations we humans produce at the expensive of nothing but the expansion of our own egos.

It is an interesting side note that the man who was being ordained tonight, whom I happen to know fairly well, is equally repulsed by the idea of merit and quantization of faith the church clergy system generates. His dubious, slightly irritated expression was priceless as the congregation began clapping towards the end of the ritual. Needless to say I clapped no more than for a second, unenthusiastically.

One of the vows that was recited before the bishop during the service, read something along the lines of [crudely replicated] "And I promise to conform to the doctrine and belief of the Anglican church" The suggestion that one was to "conform" was rather disarmingly, to me at least, I was surprised it was phrased so abruptly.

In any case, it find the practice of authority in the church highly unnecessary, overly excessive, and egotistical. Any overseeing, authoritative body, from a school administrations to a full scale government, should act as an expedient and nothing more. Its only purpose of existence is to facilitate the principle of the system it supports. Anything beyond this becomes superfluous and corrupts the entire body. So it is with the church as well.

The End of Faith

I concluded my previous post by saying that the fervor and detailed calculation with which I approached Christianity in my life was the chief factoring in initiating my transition into atheism.

I would say I've always been a logical person, attempting to make sense of the world, and incessantly concerned with how I affect it. As I matured as a teenager my scrupulous mindset in coordination with Christianity caused me to begin to define everything in my life through the lens of religion.

The impetus for my motivation in this pursuit lay primarily in a youth group trip I took to Chicago one summer, around the general beginning of my 'spiritual maturation' process. We spent a week in the city, and more or less took part in what I would characterize now as positive, revitalizing and refreshing tasks. We rode public transit or walked to wherever we would go, ate at local markets, spent a great deal of time in personal reflection and meditation, practiced yoga in the mornings, and participated in various community service and volunteer projects around the city- all the while throughly enjoying the enlivening company of our friends, whom we all became very close to during and after that week. Generally, I would say our lifestyles that week reflect a simply good life: A life characterized by the embrace of the many qualities that makes us human. For instance it is beyond rejuvenating and exciting to eat fresh fruit bought from local vendors and help out other people through volunteering without an expectation of return. In a general sense these are all simply life-giving activities, activities I believe everyone at some level should be involved in.

Now, needless to say, accompanied with our pursuits that week came a vast happiness and enjoyment of life. Unfortunately but understandably I equated this newfound happiness with God, and reasoned that all of our habits that week were somehow linked with the way I was supposed to live if I was a follower of Jesus. And for a good year and half I pursued that, with nearly no luck.

After we returned from Chicago I fruitlessly strove to reacquire the delight I had found in there, and ceaselessly conversed with God about how I was supposed to go about this. So for the next two years, I unquestionably believed that there was a way for me to somehow merge my teenage life, all of my emotions and feelings and my school life and family life seamlessly into a network of good will. I subsequently believed that if I could achieve what I understand now as a purely idealistic lifestyle, I would become happy. Note grave mistake number 1: Expecting happiness as a result of my actions.

So time passed on, and yes I was completely unsuccessful in achieving my quixotic lifestyle. However, the primary method I used to analyze my success happened to be logic. Perhaps all my thoughts were grouped in a 'conversation' with God, but more or less the rules of reason and logic defined that conversation rather than uncertainty and faith. My faith was in the authenticity of the life I was trying to led. The reason and logic led me to attempt to change a situation in my life that was directly affecting me and causing me great harm and despair. Similarly to how many Christians feel the need to proselytize themselves I felt the pull to attempt to conciliate what I perceived as completely unjust situations in my life, with the anticipation that doing so would help to achieve the fanciful life I imagined.

Thus I ventured at remedying this situation to absolutely no avail except my own demise. I was nearly completely unsuccessful. The significance of this failure here is that I fully expected to succeed because I blindly believed God had the intention of setting the world right, and I was certain that the situations I was endeavoring to remedy would fit right in with that plan of his. Thus, when the tangible realities of both collapsed down upon me, their correspondingly symbolic and emotional counterparts also disintegrated. In such a manner, without even knowing it, my faith in God simply disappearing, and gradually I begin to realize I no longer believed in God.

At least in my story, that process is the most important, because it was no analysis of the plausibility of God or anything of that nature that brought about my atheism, but instead the breakdown of the mental realities I had constructed to sustain God. In that context I find my definition of belief: A mental framework established subconsciously of some thought or ideal that does more to self assure oneself of our one's security rather than actually identify any truth in the world.

Anyhow, so when the external implications of my belief in God, as I had defined them, were lost, my internal beliefs were lost with them. And like I said, I slowly realized that I simply didn't, just didn't, believe in God any more. And that was that, there was indeed no turning back. Then till now as been a slow progression towards a deeper interaction with reality, a stronger yearning to experience truth, and a much more poignant perception of my responsibility as a human in this world. Then till now I 'm still learning.

Stories from the Cocoon

I have yet to devote any posting material to the subject of how I actually became an atheist, and I find here and now a good place to start. So I begin with who I was before.

I was raised as a Christian, and have only really attended two different churches in my lifetime. It is important to note that neither of these churches had any association with the purely dogmatic, stereotypical understanding of a church in a modern sense, and I still respect that veracity of some of the things they preached.

The existence of God was always an immutable concept in my mind, a quality of reality that was gradually built into my perception and conscience. I would say that the initial institution of this belief as a child is an awful thing, for what does a child know but what his parents and the world tells him? At that age it is as easy to accept the existence of God as it is to accept the existence of Santa Claus. Fortunately, that metaphor holds true to on the back end as it does on the front end.

I digress. As I developed my own thoughts and opinions, and began to interact within this world, the preestablished notion of an 'all powerful being' worked its way throughout my head and logic. The patterns I utilized to make sense of various happenings as well as more permanent ones were infused with the likelihood that a God was acting and moving within all of it, with some perceivable purpose. Anything that was to occur, my mind- the subtle thought process that would begin to analyze i- would include God into the equation of comprehension. Whether it was why I had missed a goal in a soccer game or how I ended up with such an ignorant mother, it was all the same- God always found some place in it. The gentle voice inside my head that would narrate my life became a conversation with God in many senses, perpetually asking questions in the direction of a supernatural being with the expectation of somehow accruing an epiphany from it. Come to think of it, ultimately I had no belief in God that wasn't inspired by natural events that I had associated with the existence of God. The strange way in which we can easily reassure ourselves of some internalized notion that makes our lives easier is very frightening in the context of belief in God.

Many people hope for certain dreams, little and big, and imagine that were these dreams to come true many of the problems they experience in their lives would disappear. In fact, perhaps the source of false dreams like "as soon as I can get this particular job such and such problem would be gone" lies within a human tendency towards escapism and avoiding the reality of life. It is inconceivably easier to drop all of the real responsibility of our lives into the lap of some omnipotent being with the expectation that all is either in control or will be well. Antithetically, abandoning God does not led towards apathy, but instead towards a heightened sense of accountability, and in my opinion and much more connected perspective with the world and people around us.

So I grew up as a child and eventually a teenager and integrated God deeply within my subconscious. The nefarious dearth of reason that resulted grew to the extent that at one point I firmly believed that a few important decisions I made were acutely intertwined with some halcyon paradise God had in store for me. In retrospect these decisions were foolish to a degree I could not foresee on the front end, and I deeply regret them now.

Essentially, God had become an irrevocable part of me. The best explanation of this relationship is that God was an attribute, and abutment, to my conscience, my internal thinking mechanism. God was controlled by me, influenced by the capricious fate that guided my life, and subject to the vacillating attitudes pressed upon me by the church I attended. Prayer was something that I believed would make me into a better person, prayer at least in the context of meditation, however was always limited to my expectation of visceral nirvana, and never inspired by necessity but rather by belied obligation.

I would say that altogether humans are silly creatures, with immense capabilities but great predilections towards ignorance and stupidity. Religion is the vice that takes hold of the gullible heart at an early age and warps it into something unrecognizable. Indeed, the forces that work against enlightenment are not limited to religion, instead they consist of the full gamut of natural human responses and instincts intended to avoid problems. Instead, the common favor of religion in humans is best described as an innate behavior intended to shield individuals from reality. Within this esoteric mess of ideas, belief, or at least the belief one has a belief, can be most virulent. For belief, I leave another post.

So, albeit my lack of details, I arrive to my earlier teenager years with a strong reliance on and relationship with God . And in a 'To Be Continued' sense I will say that paradoxically the strength with which I believed in God as well as my dependency of the authenticity of what I learned at church, almost directly caused my renunciation of faith.