The Day the Posse Strings Up John Galt (on the hollowing of the heartland)

There was a point at which I sympathized with the adherents of Ayn Rand. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t really agree with them. But, as an intellectual exercise, I thought that Rand’s ideas were at least as valid as those of the university academics who summarily dismissed her. In the battle for the intellect, Rand’s views were as good as most, and better than many.

But I’ve changed my tune. At this late stage in my life, I’ve come to the conclusion that emotion matters more than intellect. That passion matters more than theory. That the value of human life can only truly be discovered when you’re getting your hands dirty. And concepts be damned, Ayn Rand and the theory of objectivism is the enemy of the American polis, that sense of community that at one point defined the heart of American life.

There was a time when the owners of American business lived their daily lives in towns and cities across our country. They built their offices and factories in these towns. They walked our streets. They went to the local symphony, supported the local library, and contributed to local charities. And there is still some of that. But too many of today’s multi-millionaires consider themselves part of an elite meritocracy. They consider themselves better than the common man. In their minds, they deserve better than the nicest house in Dayton or Sioux Falls. So they spend much if not most of their time in some exotic locale, on a ranch in the Rockies or a tropical Caribbean island, hanging out with other rich folks, all of them grasping for that next symbol which will validate their success.

It is no wonder that the executives who run corporate America have little compunction about outsourcing our jobs or leaving our public institutions high and dry. They are no longer citizens of Dayton or Sioux Falls. They now consider themselves citizens of the world. And it is Ayn Rand who first gave them permission to feel this way, to follow John Galt and reject the lesser folk in their old communities for the utopia of the new elite.     

The lines are being drawn. Either you are a member of the meritocracy, inheritors of that stilted version of human progress, always focused, doing well on tests, never crossing that line into destructive behavior that repeatedly torments so much of the general public. Or you are not. And if you are not, then you are only here to be manipulated, at least as far as the folks who run this country are concerned.

I want to be clear: Moving into your private compound in the Agoura Hills is only a step from buying your own island in the Caribbean, at which point you have become the enemy. There is a certain contingent in this country that keeps agitating to bomb Iran. I say that if you want to bomb the real threat to this nation, you might begin by bombing the Cayman Islands. 

I have no argument with Rand’s intellect; I have a problem with her stilted vision of the human soul. And we need to confront the new elite with the only thing we can offer them that they’ll understand: The sheer panic of the privileged few as they are being tracked down by the mob.

True populism can be a bitch. So when we all finally get fed up and track down John Galt, out on whatever tropical island where he and his ilk have set up shop, I hope we have the good sense to string the bastard up.