Anthem

Everyone has an opinion about Ayn Rand. Hordes of people have opinions about those opinions. The poles of these opinions are like the US and USSR during the Cold War, except that the Cold War was important. I even had an opinion before I read anything by her. (No, I’m not going to tell you yet. I want to keep you on this page for longer to make my analytics look good.) Chances are you're rooting for the US, right? Spoiler alert: So was Rand.

To make up for trying to reduce your loyal following of my blog to mere stats, I will tell you that Rand made me very angry when reading Anthem. This is a novella about a boy who lives in a future where education and progress is dictated by 'process'. Teenagers are allocated jobs that determine where they live and how they spend their time - for their whole lives.

And here I was ready to start ranting (say it with a soft and extended sound, like 'A' in 'Arthur'). Then I realised I was about to drop a spoiler. Which is not a bad thing, I contemplated, because then you won't have to read it and risk a blood pressure spike. But we live in a free society (well, I do and if you don't, chances are the entire internet is banned anyway).

Without revealing important plot points (blood pressure spike), Rand is very obviously pitting communism and socialism against democracy and capitalism. Because obviously those pairs are blood siblings. Like Sigourney Weaver and aliens. Wherever Ms Weaver is, an insect-like alien slobbering all over itself is preparing to rear in uncharacteristic silence behind her. In literary critique, you always avoid attributing something to the author, because how can you know that your and their opinions coincide?

In this case (and because this isn't critique, more like... commentary. Kinda like telling someone everything you see and think while riding on a mountain trail. Except that books are far more important and I have the muscles of an old lady) (what was I saying again?) we do know what she intends - no, wait, we do and we don't. If you are questioning my use of conjunctions, remember Ms Weaver. There are almost entire scenes without aliens in, so that no one believes her, but the aliens are still waiting, even if only in her memories.

Ayn Rand is unapologetically in favour of democracy and capitalism, the latter being the spike in my blood pressure. In fact, she dares you to prompt her to apologise so that she can take some time to break your spirit. (Wow, that was harsh, right? I am unapologetically not in favour of capitalism, except that I want to be able to make money from my career and buy things I don't need. Well, I need them, but only because I want them.)

The majority of Anthem is spent in the city, cataloguing the ways in which oversimplified communism denies the human spirit's inventiveness, ability to adapt, curiosity and other things prized by capitalism. Because, clearly, being part of a community and, literally, communal life means you cannot choose your path in life. You will not create art or invent things or investigate the world or be able to think rationally. A fortunate side product is that no one in this city is starving, homeless or without access to medical care.

Yes. Well. I am trying to repress a desire to smack something. Only because it is unladylike. Instead, I swear.

When I was growing up, my father would try to provoke me into debates, because I have always been an opinionated liberal with the world on my shoulders and I am very easy to provoke. He had a copy of Fountainhead and said I should read it because it isn't what people say it is. According to him, the strands of the novel are knotted around a more humanistic perspective than their tautness suggests. 

I understand this now. As oversimplified and unfair as the portrayal of socialism is, the boy's egoism is oversimplified in inverse proportions. His arrogance - at his own (re)discoveries of science, sexuality and freedom - is not a sustainable model for good citizens. Unlimited freedom is not possible if there is more than one person - at some point, you will constrain someone else's freedom. This is a principle of democracy and justice: you have rights, to the point where they restrict someone else's rights.

For me, this humanism is revealed in his relationship with a girl his own age. They fall in love (or lust and general repressed sexuality), they skip through meadows and she declares herself his servant - sorry, wait, what?! 50 Shades of Grey where democracy is white and communism is black? So you reactivated your brain and began to think independently again and now you're a god? (Does this have anything to do with the fact that she's female and you're male? (Really easily provoked.))

I imagine Ms Rand grinning as she typed (obviously, with a typewriter). Grinning at her own mischievousness rather than any consideration of the reader. I imagine this because I enjoy pranking people and the joy comes of the art of the prank and so I laugh out loud while creating and always feel people don't appreciate the humour enough. I mean, c'mon, how do you not stand for a few minutes and appreciate the Alt, Ctl and Del keys lifted with a butter knife from your keyboard and lined up on the desk?

I am crediting Ms Rand with this because the suggestion is not very subtle - you can tie thread around a key, but you can still see there's an object inside and it's probably a key. The author would back me up here, if she weren't in capitalist heaven where life is really unfair because some people get a head start and keep on going and some get a head start but don't know what to do when pushed out the nest and some don't get a head start or anywhere and... you get the picture.

My mind keeps coming back to my glib comment about how the city is free of the problems of our cities. Because negotiating between the two poles is difficult and has rarely worked in modern memory, we should throw ourselves into one or the other - better the devil you know. There must be a middle ground, where creativity and drive meets universal shelter, food and health care. Honestly, I'm just contrary like that. But I'd like to imagine her grinning behind her typewriter, knowing I appreciate the prank.