Having finally finished reading Ayn Rand’s seminal novelistic defence of Capitalism Atlas Shrugged, the first motivation I had was to revisit a play I studied when I was seventeen, Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman.

The main reason why I wanted to read them comparatively was that Death of a Salesman has always been the forefront artistic embodiment, in my mind, of Capitalism and the American Dream. My younger self didn’t have much time for anything further right than social democracy (blame Buddhism and Rousseau) and Willy Loman’s tragic tale helped reinforce my negativity towards the Capitalist framework.

Over the years I have softened considerably towards Capitalism. People often claim that the older you get the more conservative your views become, but I think for anyone that perseveres with challenging their own political standpoint this simply isn’t true. I think that time, together with greed and insecurity, creates a magnet to either ends of the political spectrum for all those who are stagnant, close-minded or uncritical of their own beliefs. Over time, the natural shift for people who do challenge themselves is towards the centre.

Atlas Shrugged is a remarkable book, albeit incredibly optimistic and slightly sentimental. But I think that’s the aspect of it that both charmed me and won some key arguments. The trouble with Capitalism is that it’s the status quo. In the name of progression one demands change, yet it’s testament to Capitalism that it has had both the strength and the success to temper revolt. It hasn’t failed by its own premise. It hasn’t failed by its promise. It hasn’t failed in the challenge of a rival. In its own way, and in the long run, it has enabled prosperity for many. If its outcomes become increasingly questionable, if prosperity appears to be diminishing, if the wealth gap becomes indefensible, is it the fault of the Capitalist credo? Or are there systems of power that are undermining Capitalism itself?

I think that’s what makes Atlas Shrugged so pertinent today. It’s a reminder of everything that Capitalism is meant to be and the potential it can achieve. Dagny Taggart, the book’s protagonist, is unashamedly selfish, unashamedly so because the conviction to act on one’s own judgements and reason is Capitalism’s driving force.

“You have been called selfish for the courage of acting on your own judgement and bearing sole responsibility for your own life. You have been called arrogant for your independent mind. You have been called cruel for your unyielding integrity. You have been called anti-social for the vision that made you venture upon undiscovered roads.”

This is in contrast to Willy Loman, the central figure of Death of a Salesman, whose unhappiness is determined by his failure to satisfy the ambitions and dreams imposed upon him. He is disappointed and embarrassed at his son’s attempts to reconcile himself to a life suited more to his temperament and ability. Willy wants Biff to succeed in the eyes of the abstraction that is the American Dream, rather than his own. Willy is imposing on Biff a contradiction and a struggle that he recognises in himself too. Yet the power of the American Dream, of his assimilation to a set of values extraneous to his own judgement, is completely fatal.

“Why am I trying to become what I don’t want to be … when all I want is out there, waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am.”

My main issue with Atlas Shrugged is its unfaltering commitment and belief in the following of reason. Human reasoning is the root of its greatest advancements but, especially in the last one hundred years, also its greatest evils. As Camus writes in the introduction to The Rebel:

“Our criminals are no longer helpless children who pleaded love as their excuse. On the contrary, they are adults, and they have a perfect alibi: philosophy, which can be used for anything, even for transforming murderers into judges.”

and…

“But as soon as a man, through lack of character, takes refuge in a doctrine, as soon as he makes his crime reasonable, it multiplies like Reason herself and assumes all the figures of the syllogism. It was unique like a cry; now it is universal like a science. Yesterday, it was put on trial; today it is the law.”

Camus’ point is exemplified by the role of the American Dream in Death of a Salesman; how one’s own judgement can be overruled by subordination to a reasoned idea. Rand is a little naïve and reticent as to how conviction in one’s own rationality can only lead to prosperity. There’s a grey area between self-conviction and collaborative reason that she never defines or explains; although its existence is inherent in the plot it never becomes the source of an issue. Rand seems happy to assert that each individual following their own course of reasoning will culminate in the sharing of a universal truth and group harmony.

I’m not so sure I agree with this. One cannot reason in a vacuum for language is a game with many players. One is given ideas and tests them over time through education, conversation and experience. While the process is ongoing one must still act. The group should decide the best set of values and ideas for you to be born into and then one should be free to revolt in the way Rand suggests. The world does not reinvent the wheel for every life born.

Both books are definitely worth a read*. Together they construct a telling image of the engine that throbs through our daily lives.

*I realise that Death of a Salesman is a play but I am a staunch believer in plays being read as well as being performed. You may miss the physical dimension but you will end up appreciating a greater quantity of works for not having to wait until the next opportunity the theatre listings dictates.

This month's favourites:
   The Vaccines, Combat Sports
   Arthur Miller, Death of a Salesman
   Autumn Sonata (1978)