Copyright 1991 by

Ronald E. Merrill

These lectures are intended to give an overview of the philosophy of Objectivism. In view of the breadth of the subject, I can cover the material, in three short lectures, only in the most superficial fashion.

I have tried, therefore, to accomplish just three objectives. First, to explain the basic premises of Objectivism. Second, to show something of how the philosophy as a whole fits toegether as an integrated structure based on those premises. Third, to illustrate some of the practical, real-world consequences of the ideas.

There is a large literature on the philosophy of Objectivism, starting with the brilliant and crystal-clear expositions of Ayn Rand herself. I don't see that it would be of any great value for me to offer one more paraphrase of selected points from Galt's speech. So in these lectures I have endeavored to present some of the key ideas of Objectivism from fresh perspectives. The approach and emphasis are somewhat different; the ideas, however, are the same.

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Let me begin by doing something very Objectivist: defining what I am talking about. Objectivism is the name Ayn Rand chose for the philosophy she devised, and presented in her writings, including the extraordinary novel Atlas Shrugged. From the beginning her ideas have aroused enormous controversy. Across the political spectrum -- conservatives and communists, liberals and libertarians -- one repeatedly finds Ayn Rand depicted as the philosopher from hell, and her followers portrayed as mindless, robotic cultists.

What is the philosophy that has aroused such universal hostility? Objectivism teaches, in metaphysics, that reality exists and is objective, and, in epistemology, that one can achieve knowledge about reality by means of reason. In ethics, Objectivism preaches a rational egoism; in politics, it stresses natural rights and laissez-faire. None of these positions is particularly original or radical. As David Kelley has pointed out, "the package as a whole is not too far from the views of many Enlightenment thinkers."

Kelley therefore chooses to define Objectivism -- to distinguish it from other philosophies -- by looking to Ayn Rand's distinctive contributions. And indeed, as we shall see in the course of these lectures, Rand developed a number of novel insights in each of the various fields of philosophy. However, I do not feel that a focus on Ayn Rand's particular philosophical innovations provides the best or most basic way to define Objectivism.

Rand herself -- through the medium of John Galt -- said that her philosophy was contained in a single axiom: that existence exists. Elsewhere, she stated that the supremacy of reason is the essence of Objectivism: "If one recognizes the supremacy of reason and applies it consistently, all the rest follows." There is no contradiction here; we are merely looking at two sides of the same coin. On the obverse is the word "reality"; on the reverse is the word "reason". Neither can exist without the other.

Let me suggest that the best way to define Objectivism is this: Objectivism is the philosophy that derives from consistent application of the axiom that existence exists. This axiom dates back to Aristotle; it was he who developed the metaphysics of objective reality and the laws of logic. In a sense, Objectivism is a postscript to Aristotle; it consists of the sentence, "And I mean it." Specifically, Objectivism holds as absolutes the principles -- which are really identical twins -- of the Primacy of Existence and the Supremacy of Reason. What is truly distinctive about Objectivism is that it sticks with these principles, with the attitude "price no object", no matter where they lead.

The Primacy of Existence is the principle that reality is objective -- that the world we perceive really exists, and exists independent of our perception of it. Philosophers describe this idea, often scornfully, as the "common sense" viewpoint on metaphysics. Yet, if we are to speak literally, "common sense" is exactly what it is not. Hardly anybody, it seems, actually believes in it.

In almost any gathering of people, if you make a controversial statement, you are going to be challenged with: "Who says so?" Not, "What is your evidence?" or, "How do you justify that?" but, "Who says so?" This is the implicit statement of what Ayn Rand called "social metaphysics" -- the belief that reality is determined by what people think it is. Which people? Answers differ. Some think reality is whatever the majority believes; for them, "majority rule" has a significance far beyond the political. Others appeal to authority, whether it be the authority of "experts", or politicians, or priests, or even movie stars.

Of course, those who believe that reality is determined by people's opinions face a problem: different people have different opinions. What if everybody in your neighborhood believes one thing -- but everybody in China believes something else? What if the priest at your church says one thing, but the priest at another church -- or the Ayatollah Khomeini -- says something entirely different? There's only one way out: if reality is socially determined, it must be subjective.

So then we hear, "That may be true for you, but it's not true for me." Reality, we are told, depends on social class, or on ethnic origin, or on gender. Even scientific truth is socially determined, we are told by Thomas Kuhn and his followers. If we now believe that the earth revolves around the sun, that is merely because it is the current "paradigm" -- an implicit agreement among astronomers to accept it. It is "no closer to reality" than the earlier "paradigm", that the sun revolves around the earth.

But when we deny the objectivity of reality, we deny the validity of logic. Logic, in Rand's words, is the non-contradictory identification of reality. But if reality can be one thing for me and another for you, contradiction is inevitable. Very well, then. Banish logic, and what is left? Emotion. For the subjectivist, ultimately reality boils down to his feelings. Reality is what he wants to be true -- or, sometimes, what he fears to be true. And more: The feelings of other people, and of groups of people, become crucially important, because they can determine reality. When we hear appeals -- or demands -- to be "sensitive" to the emotions of some social group or other, it is a reflection of the belief that those feelings actually determine reality for that particular group. Believe it or not, we are being asked to respect reality!

Objectivism takes the Primacy of Existence as axiomatic. That is, it is a principle which cannot be meaningfully denied. To say that the universe does not exist is a contradiction; if nothing exists, who is saying it? To assert that reality is not objective is a contradiction; the statement itself makes a claim of objective truth. To demand that the validity of logic be proved is a contradiction; if logic is not valid, proof is not possible.

Existence exists. Reality is, and is what it is in total disregard of what you or I or anybody or everybody believes it to be. Furthermore: "Existence is identity." To exist is to be something, as opposed to nothing. But to be something is to be some thing -- to be some specific thing, to have identity. To be, it must be itself -- or, as Rand puts it, "A is A." So every entity has identity.

To say that reality is objective is to say that it cannot contradict itself, that it is logical, that it makes sense. So the flip side of the Primacy of Existence is the Supremacy of Reason. Actually, to refer to it as the "supremacy" of reason is an understatement. It's not that there are several ways to understand reality, but reason is the best. To paraphrase Vince Lombardi: When it comes to understanding reality, reason isn't the most important thing -- it's the only thing.

Objectivism holds that reality can be known by reason, and only by reason. Now, it is important to understand that this epistemological principle reflects a metaphysical fact. Many philosophers, particularly Immanuel Kant and his followers, have taken the position that reason is a quality of the human mind. In this view, logical inference is dependent on "categories" -- ways of organizing knowledge that are built into our brains. Logic is a structure that we impose on reality by the way we think; creatures from another planet, whose brains were built differently, might have a different but equally valid logic, based on a different set of "categories."

Objectivism categorically rejects this position. Reason is in reality, not just in our heads. We don't "make" existence make sense; it makes sense all by itself. The universe is logical, and our conception of reason is a recognition of the logical structure of reality, not an artificial structure that we "impose" on our perception of reality.

We are now leading into an issue which defines the way Objectivism differs, at the most fundamental level, from other philosophies. At its root, Objectivism may be seen to arise from rejection of a false dichotomy. This false dichotomy can be expressed in many forms, at various levels of philosophy. Many names have been attached to the opposing viewpoints; and each viewpoint has split into a large number of subtly differing schools of thought, until philosophy has ended up providing us with more flavors than an ice-cream shop. Time does not permit me to discuss the manifold variants of this false dichotomy, or how they are related. Let me just outline the basic issue.

To see what is involved, consider the question of "redness". We are aware of objects -- entities -- in reality which are red: red apples, red automobiles, red lights, and so on. Now the apple, the automobile, or the light is an entity, something that exists. What about "redness"? Does "redness" exist?

One position on this issue -- call it "realism" -- argues as follows: Redness is real, it is there in reality, we can see it, so it must exist. Redness, and other qualities or attributes, are existents in (more or less) the same sense that apples are.

Note a corollary to the realist position. Existence is an either-or proposition; there is no middle ground, an apple either exists or it does not. If an attribute, such as redness, is an entity, then it also must be either-or. The realist thus is compelled to make sharp dividing lines in dealing with attributes; either something is red, or it is not, there can be no shades or tints.

The other traditional position -- call it "nominalism" -- argues differently: Redness, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. All attributes or characteristics of entities are (more or less) arbitrary human constructs. They don't really exist, they are merely names, so to speak, that we have made up to classify objects and that could be changed at any time.

Note a corollary to the nominalist position. If attributes are not "there" in reality, they are arbitrary. We can define "red" any way we wish, as long as we are clear what definition we are using. We may prefer one definition over another for various reasons, but no definition can be proved to be correct.

Of course no modern philosopher would admit to accepting either of these positions in the crude, bald, simple, candid form in which I have stated them. Nonetheless, this dichotomy is fundamental to many of the key distinctions that philosophers make. The distinction between intrinsicism and subjectivism; or analytic and synthetic statements; or necessary and contingent propositions; or deductive and inductive reasoning; or Kantian altruism and Nietzschean egoism; all, ultimately, are reflections of this basic dichotomy.

Ayn Rand rejected the distinction between the realist and nominalist views as a false dichotomy. In the Objectivist view, attributes such as "redness" are neither real in the same sense that existents such as apples are real; nor arbitrary names for illusions that have no reality. The Objectivist view is that attributes or characteristics are objective; they are what make an existent what it is, they give it its identity. As such, they do not exist in at all the same sense as the entity; but neither are they arbitrary. Existence, says Rand, is identity. An entity is; its attributes are what it is.

Now, why am I wasting your time with all this? It seems, on the one hand, a horribly abstruse and impractical issue; and, on the other hand, simply a matter of common sense. So let me, as an illustration, point out how this issue has very practical consequences for a current political controversy.

Now, consider the battle between "pro-life" and "pro-choice" advocates over the issue of abortion. What we see in current political discourse is a reflection of the abstruse, impractical philosophical dichotomy we have just been discussing. The issue is: What is the nature of the attribute "humanity"? (in the sense of being a human being). Everyone, on both sides of the abortion issue, agrees that it is murder to kill a human being. But when does the fetus acquire its humanity?

The "pro-life" forces tend to be philosophical realists. For them, an entity must be either human or not; there is nothing in between. So the fetus must have become human at some instant, and logically that instant is the instant of conception. When else?

The "pro-choice" forces generally opt for the nominalist position. The definition of "human being" is arbitrary, a matter of social choice, and society may reasonably choose to define humanity as starting from birth, or possibly even afterwards.

The Objectivist, unlike the realist, recognizes that attributes, unlike entities, are not always either-or propositions. It is a fact of reality that there is no sharp dividing line between red and pink, or between child and adult, or between human and "merely protoplasm". In reality, humanity develops slowly during gestation and does not instantly appear, full blown, at conception.

The Objectivist, unlike the nominalist, recognizes that humanity is not an arbitrary classification. Humanity is a combination of characteristics -- notably, the capacity for rational thought, the human mind -- that are distinctive of our species in reality. It is therefore possible to objectively define the progress of the fetus from non-human to fully human status.

How, then, would we develop an Objectivist position on the issue of abortion? We would begin by examining the concept of humanity in order to understand how intermediate forms, not-fully-developed human beings, ought to be understood. We would study the biological and psychological facts of human development to define the stages by which a fertilized egg matures into a baby. We would then identify the degree of humanity which each stage exhibits, and the degree of protection to which it is entitled under moral law. These distinctions would not, in the manner of Roe vs. Wade, be tied to some arbitrary measurement such as weeks elapsed since conception, but to actual developmental events.

I don't wish to tackle this particular problem here. However, I hope this example has illustrated how seemingly abstruse philosophical principles can have important real-life implications.

Before departing this subject I want to leave one more warning with you. Objectivists are used to being attacked by people who reproach us for our "black and white" judgments, and who cite examples of "gray" or intermediate situations to back up their argument. If stated explicitly, their position would be: Gray exists, therefore black and white do not exist. Objectivists deny this. But then our opponents attribute to us the position: Black and white exist, therefore gray does not exist. But this is just the contrapositive of the original statement. It says exactly the same thing!

Objectivism, contrary to what our opponents wish to claim, does not consist in reducing the universe to "either-or" judgments. It consists in making our concepts congruent to reality. The most fundamental distinction of logic -- true or false -- is a dichotomy. But not all distinctions are dichotomies, and there is nothing logical about thinking solely in dichotomies. On the contrary; as we have just seen, a false dichotomy is one of the most dangerous traps into which we can fall.

Objectivism's focus on reality and reason leads to three important corollaries. First, Objectivism holds that knowledge requires a broad and self-consistent worldview, and thus emphasizes the importance of concepts in human reasoning. Second, Objectivism parts company with practically all modern schools of philosophy by asserting that certainty is possible. Third, Objectivism sees philosophy as having a crucial role in the practical life of every human being. Let's examine these corollaries in turn.

Epistemology is the branch of philosophy which deals with the nature of knowledge and how knowledge can be achieved. What, then, is distinctive or unique about the Objectivist epistemology? I would like to suggest that what is most important is that Objectivism takes a "global" rather than a "local" approach to human knowledge.

For most of this century writings on epistemology have been permeated with discussions of 'propositions' and 'predicates' and 'logical inference'. Commonly knowledge has been seen as the outcome of a process of proof. Philosophers have focussed primarily on the question: How can I demonstrate that some particular statement is true? This is a "local" approach -- looking at knowledge one bit at a time.

Ayn Rand's terminology reflects a different viewpoint. She talks in terms of 'concepts', 'abstraction', and 'integration'. Her emphasis is on understanding. Rand obviously acknowledged the role of proof in reasoning; she did, after all, glory in the appellation 'Mrs. Logic'! But for Rand, proof was merely a tool to be used. Her approach was "global" -- she was primarily concerned with how one develops a complete, self-consistent structure of interrelated knowledge.

The Objectivist epistemology, like the Objectivist ethics, is biocentric. There is no such thing as knowledge without someone to know it. So, to understand knowledge, we must think in the context of the individual human being. But a person's knowledge does not consist of a few disconnected propositions. The mind of the average adult contains an enormous amount of information about an immense variety of subjects. So the real task of epistemology is to guide people in structuring and organizing what they know so that they can make use of it, as well as learn new things.

Rand's method is to examine how people form concepts in a heirarchical process -- from perception of the concretes of reality, to integration of percepts into concepts. She emphasizes that concepts are not to be formed arbitrarily. Consider, for instance, the concept "grue", which was invented by Nelson Goodman and caused quite a stir among other professional philosophers. An object is grue if it is green up until (say) January 1, 1995, and blue afterward. Why don't we use this concept? Because it doesn't correlate at all well with the way things are in nature. In reality, green things stay green until something happens to make them turn to another color. That is why we use concepts like "green" instead of "grue". If we did otherwise, the results would be pretty gruesome!

Human beings can not only form valid concepts, but integrate them into higher abstractions; for instance, we can integrate "green", "blue", "red", and so on into the more abstract concept "color". We call these concepts "higher" abstractions, but their real value is not that they are "high", but that they are "broad". Abstractions allow us to connect together the distant parts of our knowledge structure. They are, so to speak, the communications network of the mind.

Objectivism therefore emphasizes the importance of integrating one's knowledge. This means, above all, making sure that everything is consistent, that one is not carrying any contradictions. "Check your premises," said Rand. Your premises are your broadest and most fundamental generalizations about reality. They must be consistent -- with one another, with everything else you know, and with reality. Only in this way can we have real knowledge, and indeed certainty.

Objectivism makes the assertion -- considered quite radical in philosophical circles -- that it is possible to achieve certainty. Now, modern philosophers are too sophisticated to be caught saying "nothing is certain". They know quite well that the response will be, "Are you sure about that?" They will -- most of them -- cheerfully admit that we can be certain. We just can't be certain of anything about reality! We can be certain only of logical tautologies (such as: "All husbands are men.") or mathematical theorems (such as: "Two of the angles of an isosceles triangle are equal.") We cannot, we are told, be certain about practical or scientific questions.

Let's begin by noting that "certainty", like "knowledge", is personal rather than impersonal. When we use the passive voice -- "it is certain that the Earth is round" -- what we really mean is that many or most people hold it as certain that the Earth is round. One person may be certain of something, another not.

Note that in this context we are using "certain" to mean not just "something I am sure of" but "something I am sure of that really is true". We have no interest in false convictions; that would be more a psychological than a philosophical topic.

Now, a useful procedure in general when examining a concept X is to ask, what are the consequences in reality of X or not X? How does X affect our thinking or behavior? Let's apply this to the concept of certainty.

How do we behave about "certain" knowledge? I am certain that 7 X 12 = 84. I am certain that I cannot make gold by mixing mercury and sulfur in just the right proportions. I am certain that I am not a butterfly dreaming that I am Ron Merrill. How does that certainty affect my behavior? It means that I will not consider any challenge to the truth of these statements. They are not debatable. No argument, proof, or evidence that may be offered to contradict them will be accepted, or even considered. Certain means unchallengeable.

Our next step is to ask, what is the source or nature of certainty?

Is something certain because it is proved? But I could not construct a rigorous mathematical proof that 7 X 12 = 84. I once saw, in a mathematics text, a full-blown proof that 1 + 1 = 2. It took several pages, and I couldn't understand a word of it. And if I were shown a proof that 7 X 12 = 85, I would not accept it, even if on going through it I could find nothing wrong with any step. I would instead insist that there was some error too subtle for me to detect. So when I regard something as certain, it is not just because I have seen it proved.

Neither can certainty derive from empirical evidence. If you mix mercury and sulfur in a bubbling pot, right before my eyes, and at the end of the process pull out a nugget of pure gold, what will I say? "Well! Obviously I was wrong and the alchemists were right, transmutation of the elements is possible after all!" No, I will not say that. On the contrary, I will assume that you pulled some slight-of-hand that I failed to detect.

Certainty, like knowledge in general, is, so to speak, not "local". When a statement is certain for a given person, that certainty lies not just in the evidence or logical inference directly associated with the statement, but with its status in that person's overall structure of knowledge.

Suppose, for instance, that I did not regard it as certain that I am not a butterfly dreaming that I am Ron Merrill. I would then be in no position to know anything at all. I would be epistemologically wiped out. This is generally true of certain knowledge. When we say, "I am certain of X," the meaning is, "If X is not true, then I know, and can know, nothing."

Those facts which we take as certain are the corollaries, in the personal context of each individual, of the axiom of consciousness. To deny something of which one is certain would be to deny that one exists as a conscious entity.

Certainty, therefore, is achieved by developing a complete and self-consistent worldview. Ultimately this requires an understanding of the kind of metaphysical and epistemological abstractions we have been discussing. Many people -- particularly young people -- think they can be certain of "common sense" knowledge, without the need for philosophy. They often encounter a rude shock when they go to college.

Let me read you an excerpt from a horror story -- The Mind Parasites, by Colin Wilson. It describes the experience of a man under psychological attack by alien creatures. It is an experience that, I trust, none of you has ever had; however, those of you who have taken a college course in philosophy may find the description familiar.

What the parasites were doing was to attack me from below my knowledge of myself. . . our human life is based completely on 'premises' that we take for granted. . . I had been so absorbed in the adventure of entering new mental continents . . . that I had been quite unaware that I was still leaning heavily on dozens of ordinary assumptions. . . What the parasites now did was to go to these deep moorings of my identity, and proceed to shake them. . . Suddenly, everything became absurd. For the first time, a dreadful sense of insecurity and weakness gripped my stomach. I saw that everything I take for granted in this universe can be questioned -- that they could all be a trick. . . Suddenly abysses of emptiness were open beneath my feet. . . It was so horribly and instantly real that it negated everything I had ever been, made everything an illusion. In that moment, it became totally unimportant whether the parasites won or not. All my strength, all my courage, ran away. . . The parasites did not attack. They watched me, as they might have watched a poisoned animal wriggling. I tried to gather my forces to prepare for attack, but I felt paralyzed, exhausted. It seemed pointless. My mind's strength was against me.

"My mind's strength was against me." That is precisely the situation of the person whose political or ethical beliefs are contradicted by his basic premises. A shrewd opponent need only bring out this inconsistency to defeat him.

Objectivism, as we have seen, is a philosophy that asserts that existence exists -- and that we as human beings can know reality, and know it with certainty. As we continue our examination of Objectivist ideas, you'll encounter one theme over and over again: What is the reality? Objectivism simply ignores a great deal of what passes for philosophical discourse, because it doesn't have anything to do with reality.

The eminent Harvard philosopher Hilary Putnam published some years ago a noted essay titled: "Is Water Necessarily H₂O?" This is not the sort of philosophical question that Objectivism is concerned with! Putnam has said, "Of course [that's his emphasis!] philosophical problems are unsolvable." In view of what he considers to be a philosophical problem, it's no wonder he feels that way.

Let me give just one example of the way in which Objectivism's focus on reality can dispel the confusion so often evident in philosophical discourse. Twentieth-Century philosophers have been much exercised with the "problem" presented by paradoxical statements, such as: "This statement is false." One obvious solution is to declare that statements of this sort are neither true nor false, but meaningless. But then somebody came up with a devilish paradox called the "Strong Liar". Consider the sentence: "This statement is either false, or meaningless." Now we're in trouble. If the statement is true, it's false. If it's false, it's true. And if it's meaningless, it's still true. What are we to do? Academic philosophers find this a fascinating and difficult problem.

Objectivism doesn't. Suppose we ask the question: Does the "Strong Liar" sentence say anything about reality? It doesn't; it is a statement about a statement, not a statement about reality. But only statements about reality can be true or false; true and false are concepts that do not apply except in reference to reality. So the "Strong Liar" sentence is meaningless -- not because of any internal paradox, but because it applies the terms true and false out of the context in which they have meaning.

Precisely because philosophy is the subject that deals with the broadest of abstractions, it is crucial that it never lose contact with the fact of existence. The bogeymen and phantasms that haunt philosophers, that have haunted them for centuries, dissolve and disappear in the sunlight of reason and reality.

It was Immanuel Kant who first held up the ideal of philosophy as an esoteric subject, fit for discussion by a small elite of academics, in which mere laymen would be unable to participate. Objectivism, by contrast, is a philosophy of amateurs. Ayn Rand herself was primarily a writer. Her philosophizing characters include a physicist, a pirate, and the manager of a cigarette factory. There are, of course, Objectivists who are professional philosophers, and they have made very substantial contributions. But the intellectual "trickle-down" theory presented in For the New Intellectual, in which philosophers do the thinking and everyone else accepts their ideas, is not really an appropriate model for Objectivism. Plato demanded philosopher-kings; but a philosophy of reason must insist that philosophy is the property of every rational man or woman. "All work is an act of philosophy," says Hugh Akston; and a philosophy of reason is needed by every worker.

If I had to name the one thing that Ayn Rand taught that was most valuable, I would choose -- because it contains all the others -- the importance of intellectual independence. To place nothing -- nothing -- above the verdict of your own mind, is the first responsibility of the Objectivist. Nobody else can do your reasoning for you. And only reason can guide human beings in the practical decisions of life. That is the task of ethics, the topic of my second lecture.

Ladies and Gentlemen:

One day years ago, when I was a student at MIT, I sat in the lounge of the East Campus dormitory discussing philosophy with another student. All around us there were other students, some reading, some talking, some playing bridge, none of them, of course, paying any attention to us. During our discussion the topic turned to ethics, and I said that it is possible to derive an ethics that is objectively true. Instantly, everyone within earshot dropped whatever they were doing, turned to me, and urgently informed me that I was quite mistaken. I could not have gotten their attention more effectively by shouting "Fire!"

Students, of course, learn from their teachers and their textbooks. Approaches to Ethics, edited by W. T. Jones and colleagues, is a typical collection of philosophical readings, intended to present a wide variety of viewpoints on the subject. The essays included in this book argue altruism versus egoism, religion versus atheism, just about every important issue in the field of ethics -- except one. That one is settled in the Introduction to the book:

What can the student expect to learn from the study of ethics? He must not expect to absorb a conception of the good life, or a ready-made code of conduct, in the manner that the student of physics can absorb a knowledge of Newtonian mechanics and the differential calculus.

Philosophers are always arguing among themselves, but they close ranks when this issue comes up. No ethical system, they assure us, can ever be demonstrated by reason. Our ethical beliefs may be justified by appeal to religious faith, or tradition, or the customs of our culture, or our emotions. But no morality is factually true.

Objectivism asserts that morality is a matter of factual truth. There is objective truth in ethics, and we can discover it, just as we can discover it in physics, chemistry, or other fields of knowledge. This assertion is the sharpest departure of Objectivism from modern philosophical principles, and the development of the Objectivist ethics was Ayn Rand's greatest accomplishment.

The belief that no ethics can be logically justified may be traced back to David Hume. He argued that statements about morality, or 'good' and 'bad', differ essentially from ordinary statements of fact. If we say, "Copper sulfate is poisonous," that is a factual statement, an "is" statement. If we say, "You ought not to poison people," that is a normative statement, an "ought" statement.

Hume's argument says that these two types of statement are fundamentally different, and furthermore, there is no way to derive normative statements from factual statements. There is no connection possible between "is" and "ought".

This position is superficially plausible, but what happens if we look at it a little more closely? Consider the following statements:

'You ought to bring the water to a full boil before putting the spaghetti in.'

'You ought not to shift into "park" until the wheels have stopped moving'

'You ought to write a business plan before approaching venture capitalists.'

To which type do these statements belong? Are they "factual" or "normative"? Clearly if they are not normative statements, they are at least phrased as if they were. They sound like "ought" statements. Yet they are factual statements, and they can be logically derived from observation in the same way as any other factual statement. Thus we see that rules can be factual statements. If expanded, they have the form, 'In order to accomplish X, it is necessary (or at least helpful) to do Y.' In the examples given, X is (respectively) cooking pasta, driving a car, and starting a high-technology business.

So, if we can agree on what morality is to accomplish, we can develop moral rules as factual statements. For normative statements are merely factual statements about means and ends. Here is how we can get from "is" to "ought".

What, though, is morality to accomplish? The ancient Greeks already understood that identifying the purpose of morality -- a final end -- was the key to ethics. But nobody had been able to rationally justify any particular final end. Ayn Rand was able to solve this problem by attacking it at a more basic level. She asked, in essence: Morality -- who needs it?

If we are to put morality on a factual basis, we must identify the facts that give rise to it. What is a morality? A set of rules for individual behavior. "A code of values to guide man's choices and actions," is the way Rand puts it. But before we try to decide which morality is correct, let us ask, as Rand did, why there should be any morality at all?

What would happen to a human being who followed no morality at all -- who did not guide his actions by any rules whatsoever? He could have nothing to "guide his choices and actions", not even his feelings -- for "do whatever you want" or "do whatever feels good" is a rule, a morality (generally called "hedonism"). So his actions would have to be completely random.

It is very difficult to visualize how anybody could actually behave in this literally "amoral" fashion. But it is quite easy to predict what the result would be for anybody who did. In any normal environment (other than a padded cell), whether the streets of San Francisco or the African veldt, he would be dead within hours, if not minutes.

We can now see that human beings need morality because we are alive, and because we must make choices to maintain life. Morality tells us how to make those choices. Life is the final end of morality.

Ayn Rand's answer to David Hume may be summed up as follows: It is a fact that human beings need to choose values (goals), in order to live. It is a fact that a code of values -- a morality -- is required to guide those choices. And the requirements of that code -- the judgments of right and wrong -- are factual statements about what enhances or destroys human life. A human being is by means of doing what he ought.

The Objectivist ethics is all-encompassing. Good and bad, for the Objectivist, are not limited to some special realm of "spiritual" values. If the purpose of morality is life, then every choice that affects one's life is a moral choice. So Objectivism does not make any distinction between the moral and the practical. When we make "practical" decisions, such as what school to attend, or whom to marry, or where to live, we are entitled to the guidance of morality. And that which is moral -- which enhances our lives -- is practical.

Permit me to revert for a moment to the subject of metaphysics -- specifically, to the so-called "mind-body problem", which I touched on in my first lecture. In the Objectivist view, you will recall, mind is regarded as an attribute, a characteristic, which is the essential part of the identity of the human body. The realists regard mind as an existent in itself; so for them, the "soul" dwells in the body, but is inherently separate from it. This creates a distinction between the material and the spiritual. The nominalists, on the other hand, deny the reality of attributes, and thus are led to a mechanistic view. The Behaviorist school of psychology took this line of reasoning to its logical conclusion by asserting that mind is not part of reality at all. Objectivism rejects both these approaches; mind is real, and inseparable from body. There is no mind-body dichotomy, and no separation between the spiritual and the material.

I pointed out earlier that Objectivism is a heirarchical, self-consistent philosophical system, in which key themes appear at all levels. Here you see an example: The rejection of the mind-body dichotomy in metaphysics implies the rejection of the moral-practical dichotomy in ethics. And, in the third lecture, we will see how this same basic metaphysical principle has implications in politics.

The Objectivist ethics is biocentric -- that is, life-centered. So if we wish fully to understand it, we must thoroughly comprehend the concept of "life". Biologists consider that life has three defining characteristics: First, goal-directed behavior; second, self-constructing action; and third, reproduction. The Objectivist ethics as currently formulated is based on the first two criteria. Incorporating the implications of the third is a task for the future.

Objectivism conceives of life as a sort of cyclical or reciprocating process. A living being exhibits goal-directed behavior, seeking to achieve values (such as food); these values contribute to self-constructing action (such as growth). The self-construction maintains and enhances the ability of the organism to pursue values, thus completing the circuit. Life is therefore simultaneously an end in itself, a value pursued for its own sake; and a means which is necessary to the pursuit of any end.

It is very important to understand that "life" is not just a binary, on-off status of the organism. Life is the ability to seek values; the more able to seek values we are, the more alive we are. This is why we do not regard a victim of brain damage, kept alive only by intravenous feeding and a respirator, as being fully alive. So if the final end of morality is life, then we ought to pursue values in such a way as to maximize our lives, which means, pursuing values which will most contribute to self-construction and thus the ability to pursue values even more effectively.

So the Objectivist ethics does not advocate that we operate on the range of the moment, doing anything that may seem expedient to secure our short-term survival. To live means more than simply keeping the heart beating. And when we say living "means more" than just surviving, we are not invoking any religious or mystical meaning or values; we are invoking the biological understanding of life.

Finally, if our ethics is to be biocentric, we must take into account the nature of the organism in question. Every species of living being has a distinctive mode of life, and mankind is no exception. Homo sapiens is the biological term for our species; "thinking man". Man is the animal that lives by its mind. It is our ability to think in concepts, and to communicate with other members of our species by means of those concepts, that distinguishes us from other animals.

The Objectivist ethics, therefore, may be summed up as a morality of rational egoism. Each individual must preserve and enhance his life, using his mind -- his ability to reason -- as the primary tool to do so.

Let's now consider some of the common misconceptions about the Objectivist ethics and some of the major objections that have been raised against it.

Professional philosophers have generally attacked the Objectivist ethics by asking, in effect, "Why must I choose life as the ultimate or final end of ethics? There are other possible ends, such as justice or love or the greater glory of God or what have you. Why, even Ayn Rand admits that there are higher values than life; in Atlas Shrugged, she does not condemn Cherryl Taggart when she commits suicide, or John Galt when he threatens to."

This objection loses its force when we realize that Objectivism recognizes life not only as an end in itself, but as a means to all possible ends. Any other end that we may choose to pursue -- even death! -- requires life as a means to it.

As for the question of suicide: Life is the ability to pursue values. What is the state of a creature that is trapped, helpless, unable to pursue values? Worse: What is the state of a creature that is confined in a situation of value-reversal, where every action it may try to take destroys its values? This, the state to which Cherryl Taggart was reduced, and with which John Galt was threatened, is a state of un-death or below-death. It is a state of negative values, to which death, the state of zero value, would be preferable.

Another common objection goes as follows: "Well, if all you care about is your own life, your own safety, you would lock yourself in a vault or at least live a very passive, conservative life in order to avoid all danger."

The misunderstanding here is that, as we have already seen, life means more than "pure survival". Again, life is the entire, self-sustaining process of pursuing values. A strategy of passive defense is not an effective approach to pursuing values. I am reminded of the story of a couple who were terribly worried about the possibility that World War III might break out, and they might be killed. They carefully studied all the possibilities, and chose the safest, most peaceful place they could find to live. They moved to the Falkland Islands just a few months before they were invaded by Argentina. Life is full of these little surprises. People who pursue an active, assertive, resilient strategy for living are more likely to surmount them.

Some critics attack the Objectivist ethics by misrepresentation. They characterize it as advocating criminal viciousness or brutal disregard of the rights of others, similar to the ethics of Max Stirner or Friedrich Nietzsche. But Objectivism, which recognizes man as a rational animal, and a social animal, does not see attacking other people as a practical means of achieving values.

Another misrepresentation identifies Objectivist ethics with Social Darwinism (actually, a caricature of Social Darwinism, not the real thing). We are said to believe in the idea that society must let the strong trample on the weak so that the "unfit" will be removed from the human race for the good of the species. But the Objectivist ethics is concerned with the good of the individual, not the good of the species. It offers to every person, "strong" or "weak", guidance in maximizing his life by, among other things, cooperation with other human beings.

Now we come to the famous "lifeboat dilemma." "Suppose you are on a lifeboat in a storm and the only way to survive is to murder your companion . . ." As Ayn Rand has pointed out, this kind of hypothetical situation reflects an absurdly unrealistic view of the normal human condition. We do not live in lifeboats. Of course, the Objectivist ethics must instruct us what to do in emergencies. And it does: Since an emergency may be defined as a situation inherently hostile or dangerous to human life, the first rule of emergency ethics would be "Take action to end the emergency!" So any such exceptional cases may be regarded as rare, temporary, and unimportant to the real task of ethics. Incidentally, it should be noted that in real-life emergencies the 'push the other guy out of the lifeboat' technique is seldom if ever advisable. Historical examples show that those who survive generally do so by co-operating with their comrades in misfortune, not murdering them.

Another challenge along the same lines is the "invulnerable criminal dilemma". "Suppose you knew for sure that you could get away with robbing a bank. Why not do it? It would be selfish." This is a little more subtle -- but only a little. Human beings live by producing, not by stealing. We do not live in get-away cars. In reality -- as opposed to some imaginary universe -- bank robbery is a distinctly hazardous affair, and in reality there is no such thing as an invulnerable criminal.

When we argue these points, we are bombarded with alleged counterexamples -- evil people who lived to a ripe old age. What about Mao Tse-Tung? Deng? Stalin? Andropov?

Well, what about them? For every survivor who makes it to old age by dint of ceaseless vigilance and constant worry about whether his food-taster has been bribed, there are hundreds of Berias and Roehms and Trotskys who fail in the struggle for power and meet with untimely and unpleasant ends.

It is quite true that chance plays an important role in human life. Sometimes the moral person, in spite of all efforts, will encounter a run of bad luck, fail, and die. Sometimes the evil person will encounter a run of good luck and prosper to a ripe old age. Nobody, however rational or intelligent, can go through life without mishap, never making an error and hitting the bullseye with every shot. We are human beings, not gods, and thus are neither omniscient nor omnipotent. We don't know everything, aren't certain what is going to happen, and thus do not always choose the right thing to do. This uncertainty does not change the principles of moral action. To paraphrase Damon Runyon, "The race is not always to the swift, or success to the rational -- but that's the way to bet."

The Objectivist ethics is based on a context of the full reality of human life. Human beings -- real human beings -- are not hypothetical constructs who can somehow live and thrive by cheating, theft, and murder. And in fact, when it's not Ayn Rand who is saying this, the statement isn't even controversial. There are a number of bromides to the same effect: "The wages of sin is death." "Crime does not pay." "Evil deeds do not prosper." It is such an obvious truth that we find it hard even to imagine the contrary. When we read a novel or watch a movie, we expect heroes to be rewarded and wrongdoers to come to a bad end. This is not just moral propaganda. It's hard to make the reverse believable. Could even the talent of Dostoyevsky make us believe in a Raskolnikov who gets away clean and lives happily ever after?

All of the objections I have been discussing fail to recognize the Objectivist vision of human life. Life, you will recall, is considered as a process of pursuit of values, and the assimilation of these values contributes to the self-construction of the organism, making it capable of further pursuit of values, and so on. So for the Objectivist, getting or having values is only part of the story. The most important objective is to attain values which will contribute to one's capabilities to achieve further values. The most crucial value of all is personal growth. Having money is a value; having the ability to make money is a greater value.

Furthermore, the life in question is human life. From a biological point of view, humans have certain unique characteristics. They think in concepts, and use this ability to modify their environment to suit their needs, rather than adapting to the environment. They communicate in concepts, and use this ability to organize themselves for cooperative efforts.

Many critics of Objectivism seem to have a rather odd view of human nature. Following Hobbes, they envision the natural state of man as a war of all against all. People, we are told, if it were not for the restraint of law or custom or religion, would just naturally go around robbing and murdering their fellow humans. That simply is not the biological nature of man. Perhaps they're thinking of tigers -- except that tigers seldom attack other members of their kind.

What specific behavior does the Objectivist ethics advocate? It all follows logically from the basic idea of human life as the standard of ethics. There are, Rand says, three primary values for humans -- reason, purpose, and self-esteem -- and three corresponding cardinal virtues -- rationality, productivity, and pride.

Because reason is the primary tool of survival for human beings, it is the primary value in human existence. Now, what does it mean to consider reason a value? I want to take some time for this question because I believe many Objectivists miss some important implications.

From a casual reading of Ayn Rand's works, and even more so from those of her followers, one can easily get the impression that rationality means simply "not whim-worshiping". To be rational means to make decisions on the basis of reason, in disregard of, if not hostility to, one's emotions. And that's it. This is how many Objectivists seem to regard the virtue of rationality. But this is a very limited, cramped, and sterile vision of rationality.

Rationality in its fullest sense means to hold reason as a value, and as a crucially important value. To value reason is to seek to make use of it to the maximum possible extent in solving the problems of everyday life. To value reason is to seek to understand as much as possible, to integrate one's concepts as broadly as possible. To value reason is to work every day at improving one's ability to think -- to expand one's knowledge, to develop one's thinking skills, to challenge one's mind with new problems and new concepts. To value reason is to seek reason everywhere -- in the books one reads, in the work one does, in the people one deals with.

What of one's emotions? Ayn Rand used to say that she knew exactly where all of her emotions came from, and that everybody ought to be able to do the same. Well, I haven't reached that level yet, and I don't expect to in the foreseeable future. To understand the source of all one's emotions would require an extraordinary psychological insight. I don't think one should be expected to do so, although it is certainly commendable to try.

Rationality does not demand that one understand all one's emotions. It does demand that one be aware of them, and acknowledge them to oneself. Rationality does not demand that one declare war on one's emotions and go through life with a teeth-gritted determination to do the right thing regardless of how painful it is. There are times when one must simply override the desire to indulge in some variety of self-destructive behavior. But the goal is to bring one's emotions into harmony with reason -- not to annihilate or enslave them.

Peter Drucker, the noted management consultant, has pointed out that, to improve the performance of an executive (or any other worker), it is not effective to try to eliminate his "weaknesses". Instead, the most fruitful strategy is to identify the executive's strengths, and then develop them even further and give them wider scope.

The same principle applies to the development of rationality. The Objectivist will do best to identify those areas of his life in which he is already behaving most rationally, and seek to expand them. Each of us will find that we are most rational while engaging in certain activities; functioning in certain environments; interacting with certain people. The trick is to maximize the time one spends on those activities, in those environments, and with those people.

Let's turn to the value of purpose, and the corresponding virtue of productivity. Again, it is easy to develop too narrow a concept of this virtue. Productivity is not just "working hard", nor even "working smart". It is not just a matter of being self-supporting, or creating wealth.

Purpose is a key value for humans because we, being intelligent, seek goals at much longer range than any other animal. We look ahead years and plan and organize extremely complex projects to achieve major values. We are able to do this because, being human beings, we do not just adapt to our environment and grab whatever values may become available, as other animals do. Instead, we modify our environment to create values.

To value purpose is, first and foremost, to make the effort to seek values. This means: to be active, not passive; to be ambitious, not self-satified; to be on the lookout for new values and new ways to achieve values. The purposeful person also seeks to extend the range and complexity of his actions, and to become capable of ever more far-seeing plans.

The virtue of productivity also demands of us that we produce values, rather than merely find or appropriate them. We ought to be creative, in the broadest sense, seeking to use our minds to find better ways to do things. And of course we ought always to be striving to improve our productivity in a purely economic sense -- producing more values with less effort and expense.

But productivity is a virtue not to be limited to our work or profession or career. One ought to be productive of values other than those of the financial or material sort. For instance, when we seek values from our relationships with other people -- whether our co-workers, our friends, our spouses, or our children -- we ought to expect that we must produce those values. The satisfactions we receive from these personal interactions must be earned by means of effort, of thought, of creativity, in the way we deal with other people.

Rand selects as the third cardinal virtue of Objectivism "pride". In doing so, she makes explicit the crucial importance she attaches to improving one's abilities and options. There are no less than eight definitions of "pride" in the Objectivist literature, but primary is: "moral ambitiousness". Nathaniel Branden amplifies this: "Moral ambitiousness, the dedication to achieving one's highest potential, in one's character and in one's life." Thus "pride" for the Objectivist denotes a constant effort to improve oneself.

Corresponding to the virtue of pride there is the value of self-esteem. For the Objectivist, self-esteem derives from the knowledge that one has the ability to deal with the universe, and the rectitude to apply that ability. To value self-esteem is to constantly seek to become a better person -- more competent, more creative, more principled.

But there is more required, especially in today's culture. To value one's self-esteem is to stand up for one's own moral stature against attack. To take an example from Atlas Shrugged, the sin of Hank Rearden, against which Francisco warns him, is to fail to properly value his own self-esteem. He allows his moral inferiors to denigrate him and accepts their condemnation.

To conclude, then, the Objectivist ethics asserts that morality is objective and factual in nature. Right and wrong are determined by a rational analysis based on the standard of human life. This leads to a morality of authentic egoism, a "selfishness" in the sense of "what is good for one's self" rather than "indulging one's whims". The morality of Objectivism is not by any means loose or permissive, and it does not encourage one to self-indulgence. On the contrary, it demands strict rectitude and a constant effort at self-improvement.

Because it seeks to guide the value-choices of the individual, the Objectivist ethics implies, as a political and social corollary, a commitment to individualism. This should occasion no surprise. But -- precisely because it is an egoistic ethics -- it is compelled to emphasize cooperation and respect for human rights.

Objectivist ideas therefore have enormous and radical consequences for the organization of society in the broadest terms -- from politics and economics to art and culture. That is the topic of my third lecture.

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Imagine for a moment that you are an alien explorer from another star system, arriving in the vicinity of the planet Earth for the first time. Of all the many millions of species inhabiting this planet, the first one you would become aware of is Homo sapiens. You would easily detect the radio transmissions of our civilization from billions of miles away, and the first thing you would know about our species is that it is intelligent.

What is the second thing you would learn? As you approached closer to Earth, you would see the night side dotted with patches of light, and you would soon identify them as cities packed with millions of humans. So you would then know that mankind is a social animal.

We are, of course, not the only social animal on the planet. But we are a unique species. Attempts to build human societies on the model of other social species have failed. The Communist model of humanity as a beehive; the Nazi ideal of a nest of soldier ants; the utopian socialists' attempts to set up herds of human antelope; all have failed, and failed miserably.

Because we are reasoning animals, we are inherently individualistic. Our minds give us infinitely more scope for individual difference than is possible for members of any non-sapient species. From the point of view of a biologist, one of the most striking characteristics of the species Homo sapiens is its variability. Compared to human beings, any other species is monotonously similar. Let's face it, when you've seen one hippopotamus, you've seen 'em all.

Our minds also give us the ability to build extraordinarily complex social organizations. Objectivism, because it recognizes the reality of human nature, is able to offer us an effective model of human society, and an effective defense of the freedom that is necessary to successful society.

Let us recognize at the start that Objectivism is not the only political philosophy to advocate freedom. Liberals have defended freedom in the name of progress. Without freedom, they say, innovation and creativity will be stifled. Conservatives have defended freedom in the name of caution. People are naturally evil, so a powerful State might fall into the hands of evil rulers, where it would be a terrible weapon. Libertarians have defended freedom in the name of . . . in the name of . . . well, it just ought to be defended, that's all.

What distinguishes Objectivism, as a political philosophy, from other ideologies is its distinctively moral defense of freedom. Other defenders of a free society -- liberals, conservatives, and often even libertarians -- see freedom not as good in itself, but as a necessary evil.

The ethical philosophers who cut off "ought" from "is" thereby separated the moral from the practical. This allowed them to reverse the logical status of ethics and politics. A political ideology -- statism, under which some people extract values from others by force -- has always motivated the appeal to altruism -- the principle that those who are robbed, had it coming.

Those who assert that practicality is irrelevant to morality, soon progress to the argument that practicality is antithetical to morality. And this fundamental contradiction is what makes it impossible for other ideologies to defend a free society, even when they wish to.

It might well be said, to paraphrase Richard Nixon, that we are all Austrians now. Demoralized by the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe, even such pillars of the Left as Robert Heilbronner today concede that capitalism works and socialism doesn't. One can scarcely find an economist with even a shred of credibility who does not acknowledge that a free market produces the most efficient and prosperous society. The trouble is, the more that laissez faire "wins" on the grounds of economic practicality, the more it "loses" on the grounds of morality. In a political context, all that is accomplished by showing that the free society is most practical, is to "prove" that it must be evil -- for only evil is practical.

Objectivism turns this upside-down set of premises right-side-up again. Ethics precedes politics. The Objectivist ethics holds that "ought" derives from "is", therefore that what is moral is practical. To be good is to live, to succeed, to prosper. So it is not surprising that laissez faire, the moral system of government, leads to life, to progress, and to prosperity; and that statism, the immoral system of government, leads to death camps, to primitive stagnation, and to poverty.

The Objectivist theory of politics begins from its ethics of rational egoism. Humans are social animals; they therefore face the need to set rules for interaction among one another. What rules ought a rational egoist to favor?

As we have seen, the Objectivist ethics recognizes life as the pursuit of values. The rational person will therefore choose to live in a society that respects the fact that humans need to pursue values in order to live, and that they create these values by means of the virtue of productiveness. In other words, a virtuous society recognizes rights. A right is an enforceable moral claim, which entitles the individual to the values he creates. Most fundamental, of course, is the right to life, the source of all values. This implies, as corollaries, the right to pursue values -- liberty -- and the right to possess them -- property.

The good society recognizes rights; the good government enforces them. It is a fact of reality that not all human beings behave rationally, and that some are even criminal. So the rational egoist will naturally require that some mechanism be organized by which he can be protected from those who would destroy his values or take them by force. This mechanism, which will wield force in a defensive or retaliatory manner against criminals, is called government.

Government, in the Objectivist view, is merely a tool by which the rational individuals who make up society protect the values they have earned. Like many other tools, government can be dangerous if badly designed or carelessly used; it requires skillful handling if it is to fulfil its proper function and not injure the user.

Objectivist politics, as currently formulated, leaves large gaps in its prescriptions for the organization of government. What makes a specific government legitimate, and how are disputes at this meta-political level to be resolved if rational people disagree? What is the best way to structure government so as to prevent it from escaping the control of its creators? How should government be financed? How should the government conduct its relations with other governments, good and bad? These and other questions have not been answered -- indeed, they have scarcely been asked -- by Ayn Rand and other Objectivist philosophers. Here is another area where we have much work to do.

Let us not, however, overestimate the deficiency. Objectivist politics tells us what needs to be done, if not how to do it; where we should be going, if not how to get there. This is not enough; but it is a great deal more than any other political philosophy has to offer.

The popular political philosophies of our time, as we have seen, turn the relation of politics to morality upside-down. They do not develop a moral theory, and then devise a political system to implement it. They preach a morality -- the morality of altruism -- as a means to accomplish a political objective -- statism. Note that altruism cannot be practiced by Robinson Crusoe -- egoism can! Altruism is meaningless except in a social context. Egoism proceeds from the individual to society, from the particular to the general, from the concrete to the abstract.

Statists reverse this logical order. They then go on to make morality not only logically but practically dependent on politics. Both liberalism and conservatism see the government as the source of morality. If this idea ever had any plausibility, it is hard to see how it can retain it now. In recent decades, government has become bigger, stronger, and more pervasive than ever before. But society has not become more moral; on the contrary, just about everyone wails that things are getting worse. Yet today, when criminals roam the streets of America with unprecedented boldness, politicians of all stripes tell us that more government is the cure.

According to the liberals, crime results from poverty, discrimination, and despair. Criminals are merely people who are badly fed, badly educated, and badly treated. Government should take money from the non-criminals, and give it to the criminals. Then they will become good people and good citizens.

According to the conservatives, crime results from the natural evil of human nature. Criminals are people who have not been subjected to sufficient discipline and control, who have been exposed to "bad influences". Government should supervise citizens more closely, and make sure they are not corrupted by reading the wrong books, being taught atheistic ideas like evolution, or using birth-control devices.

Objectivism returns to an older and wiser tradition, the same principle that informed the American Founders. The conclusion that Montesquieu arrived at by an empirical study of history, Ayn Rand arrived at from theory: virtuous citizens are the cause of good government, not the effect.

Just as ethics precedes politics in the logical heirarchy of philosophy, so the virtue of individual citizens results in good government. Cause and effect cannot be reversed. Government cannot reform its citizens; citizens must reform themselves, and then reform their government.

Rand perceived the political implications of this principle at least as early as 1965, when she published her essay, "It Is Earlier Than You Think". Discussing the failure of Barry Goldwater's presidential bid, she explained why conservatives could never reverse the trend toward statism. Even if a conservative did attain the presidency (as actually happened 16 years later when Ronald Reagan was elected) he could accomplish little or nothing of value. If the citizens do not support a free society -- in deeds, not just in words -- no administration can create one for them.

Today, any brief hopes we may have had that conservatives could or would arrest -- let alone reverse -- the drift toward the Leviathan State have been dashed. The torch has been passed to libertarians. But they do not seem to be doing any better. Why not?

The political strategy of libertarianism has been education. "We must educate the voters," one hears over and over again. Let me indulge in another anecdote.

When I was sixteeen, and had just discovered Austrian economics and the defense of the free market, I had occasion to discuss with one of my old teachers from grade school the issue of farm subsidies. He, a typical liberal, was for them. So I began to carefully explain how crop subsidies raised prices for consumers, distorted markets, resulted in surpluses and waste, and so on. He cut me short. "Yes, yes, I know all that," he said impatiently. "So what?" It absolutely floored me.

As I went through college, arguing all the way, I eventually realized that this was the problem to face. We are prone to believe that our opponents simply don't understand, that if they knew the practical consequences of the policies they advocate, they would change their minds and become advocates of laissez faire. This very naive notion still animates libertarian intellectuals and political activists. The reality is that many statists have a surprisingly sophisticated knowledge of economics. They know what the consequences of their policies will be, and they know why. And their attitude is, "So what?"

If we are to actually change the nature of government, we must accomplish, not electoral success nor educational progress, but a moral revolution.

Ayn Rand was a child of "la Belle Epoque". It was, many people felt, a golden age that seemed to sum up the progress, prosperity, and peace that had been achieved by the Nineteenth Century. Then she was plunged into the disasters of the Twentieth Century. The First World War; the Russian Civil War; the Bolshevik dictatorship. She escaped to America, and began her writing career in the "Red Decade" of the 1930s, struggling through the Great Depression economically and the New Deal politically. Through the Second World War, the conformist society of the Fifties, the New Left era of the Sixties, the social malaise of the Seventies, she fought against an ever-swelling tide of social and political irrationality. Throughout her career she was subjected to savage vituperation from Left and Right.

It is hardly surprising that Rand's fiction work is obsessed with the problem of alienation -- the plight of the rational person in an irrational society. In her novels she presents us with a series of vivid metaphors for this plight, from Howard Roark laboring like a slave in a granite quarry to Kira Argonouva bleeding to death in the snow. To ask the sparse sprinkling of rational men and women to reform their society seems a rather tall order; most of them are struggling just to survive.

What advice can be offered to Objectivists, immersed as we are in a culture hostile to everything in which we believe? Ayn Rand's first message, and her last, was: "Don't let it go!" Whatever the cost, we must be loyal to our values. To give up, to conclude that reason and justice and achievement have no chance in the world, is moral treason. This is the crime of Dominique Francon and Gail Wynand in The Fountainhead.

Many of the Objectivists I have known have fallen into the same pit. After first reading Atlas Shrugged they react, as we all do, "But of course!" They naturally feel, as we all do, that just spreading these ideas will change the world. Their initial enthusiasm and dedication starts to wear down as it sinks in that it will not be that easy. Eventually they turn away from the philosophy, and give up, with the sad conclusion that "life isn't like that". They end up speaking of Objectivism, with the wistful nostalgia one feels for a happy childhood, as a naively optimistic creed in which they once believed.

We must also avoid the error of withdrawing in revulsion from the human race. The unescapable reality is that we are social animals. To cut ourselves off from human interaction is to amputate essential parts of our personalities. This is the error of Hank Rearden in Atlas Shrugged.

Again, I know many Objectivists who have followed this path. They find in their profession an oasis of rationality and they dwell there as virtual hermits. They abandon the struggle against society by abandoning the attempt to live in it in any real way.

Some Objectivists go even further and descend into a sort of ethical masochism. We are greeted, with our breakfast coffee, by a newspaper announcing the day's quotas of irrationality, stupidity, and injustice. All around us we see things that fill us with anger, indignation, and disgust. It is not hard, under these conditions, to lose perspective and develop what Ayn Rand called "the Malevolent Universe Premise".

Once again, I have known many Objectivists to make this mistake. They do not surrender to society; nor do they withdraw from it; they declare war on it. They hold up Objectivism, not as a banner, but as an icon. They find it increasingly difficult to perceive good in other people, until in their angry loneliness they begin to become suspicious of "heresy" even in their fellow crusaders.

What positive advice can be offered? First, it is crucial to maintain intellectual independence. When a rational person is immersed in an irrational culture, the most dangerous thing he can do is take his tone from his surroundings. A constant process of learning and intellectual growth is the best way to inoculate the mind against the intellectual diseases of our culture.

Second, the Objectivist must stand up for his values, speaking out when his values are attacked. You see, irrational people are nearly always social metaphysicians. For them, reality is determined by other people's opinions. They therefore have an intense need for unanimity or consensus. When they encounter a person who quietly but firmly disagrees with the consensus, they are literally shaken to the core.

Third, the Objectivist should seek out what is rational in other people. Very few members of our society are truly or fully rational people. Nonetheless, human beings are designed, so to speak, to keep running even when injured. To change the metaphor, irrationality is like a tumor. Sometimes it metastasizes until it has taken over the entire personality. But in other cases it becomes encysted, walled off in some particular area such as religion or politics, leaving the rest of the mind relatively healthy. Relationships with such people -- in a social as well as a professional context -- can be a value.

Finally, Objectivists should not underestimate the sheer power of moral example. We live in an age of relativism and subjectivism. But -- as Objectivism teaches us -- this is not natural for human beings. People need consistent values; they need standards; they need to make sense of their lives. Have you ever noticed the way people speak of members of strict religious sects, such as the Amish or the Mormons? There is a tone of amusement, of making fun of their unusual beliefs or outlandish customs. But mixed with it there is a hesitant admiration, a grudging respect for those who have chosen to hold themselves to a strict moral standard -- those who not only have something to believe, but who act in accord with their beliefs. People long for integrity, and many of them -- especially young people, and especially the best among them -- are drawn to a creed such as Objectivism that can offer them standards to live by. What attracts them is not proselytizing or preaching, but the sight of people quietly and matter-of-factly setting an example of moral integrity.

If we intend to create a moral revolution in our society, it is incumbent on us to develop a coherent vision of the new society we wish to create. In my first lecture I pointed out that Objectivism, unlike most modern philosophies, is a complete and self-consistent system of thought. This emphasis on consistency is crucial to Objectivism at every level. In epistemology, nobody can truly obtain knowledge without insisting on development of a self-consistent conceptual structure. In ethics, nobody can live successfully without making his actions consistent with his nature as a human being.

When we turn to the issues raised by the organization of individuals into societies, the same principle applies. No society can function long unless there is some degree of consistency among its various structural features. The political system; the economic system; the moral consensus and social customs; and even the intellectual and cultural idea-system; all need to be in harmony if the society is to be stable.

Here again we see a profound contrast between Objectivism and libertarianism. Libertarians are prone to argue strictly on issues of politics and economics; government should get out of the way, they say, so individuals can pursue their goals unobstructed. What goals? Ah, there's the rub. Libertarians disagree on what human values are worthwhile; most have accepted the idea that no objective basis for values can be established. For this reason they cannot present any coherent vision of what kind of society would be desirable. Let's "let everyone do his own thing", they advise, and see what develops.

The Objectivist literature certainly does not stint its attention to issues of political freedom and economic efficiency. But, because it derives its political philosophy from a particular conception of human nature, Objectivism can see society as an organic whole. Though Ayn Rand was popularly considered a political philosopher, it is noteworthy that she wrote copiously on cultural issues. She was particularly interested in esthetics and the psychological and social function of art.

It is a truism of the Right -- conservative, libertarian, or classical liberal -- that a minimal government (the so-called "night watchman State") immediately implies a capitalist economic system. It ain't necessarily so. People do not engage in a particular form of economic behavior simply because they are not prohibited from doing so. Economists, indeed, concede that "non-economic" motives affect economic behavior. To take just one historical example, feudal institutions persisted in the English countryside well into this century -- long after laissez faire had made them economically unnecessary, in fact, absurd. People went on behaving in the same old ways, partly through persistence of habit, but mostly because feudal institutions reflected moral judgments and social customs which the population still held in spite of the change in political and economic systems. It was this contradiction which led to the rapid collapse of British capitalism in the early part of this century.

If the fortunes of history should present us with the gift of a renewal of American freedoms tomorrow, it would prove just as ephemeral. Just like a lottery winner whose new-found wealth quickly melts away, a society with free-market institutions that rest on no moral basis soon reverts to statism. Only Objectivism, with its strong philosophical foundation and self-consistent value system, can provide a model of the stable and enduring free society.

What is that model? We have seen that the rational egoist will seek to live under a political system which respects rights, with a government which protects the individual from crime (and foreign aggression) rather than controlling him. But what will the rational egoist seek in economic, social, and cultural aspects of society?

There are a number of things which must be accomplished to maintain a functioning society. Most of them, government cannot accomplish, or can at best accomplish only very badly. Thus citizens, acting in a voluntary mode, must choose to accomplish them.

What things? Well, first of all, making the government functional. Government can operate a police force. But when a violent crime is initiated, the citizens on the spot had better deal with it; the police, even if they are very efficient, will arrive too late to prevent it. They can only arrest criminals after that fact. The government can set up courts. But if citizens refuse to take the trouble (and it is trouble) to press charges, to act as witnesses, to participate as jurors -- then the courts will not function. The government can enforce contracts. But, as any novice businessman soons learns, contracts are the backstop, not the playing field; if nobody's word can be trusted without a signed document, commerce quickly grinds to a halt.

More generally, citizens under a laissez faire regime must impose a moral structure on society, and the customs to enforce it. Government can protect rights; it cannot, as the saying goes, "enforce morality". But morality does need to be enforced. Businessmen must deal honestly with one another and not just skate as close to the edge of legal fraud as they safely can. Workers must save for their futures, not just shop till they drop. People must choose to have families, and to support them, not just pursue the infantile pleasures of swinging singledom. Youngsters must seek education and productive careers, not cocaine highs. These things must be done if a society is to survive.

Objectivism has frequently been criticized, especially by libertarians, as "moralistic". It is precisely because it is "moralistic" that it is much more promising than libertarianism as the basis for a free society. If a society is not held together by the coercion of government force, what will hold it together? Certainly not a social consensus that the only thing that matters is "doing your own thing".

In my second lecture I pointed out that the Objectivist ethics is pervasive. Unlike traditional creeds which restrict moral significance to certain "spiritual" aspects of life, Objectivism offers moral guidance in every significant human decision. In an analogous way, Objectivism emphasizes the importance of a pervasive moral structure in a social context. Consider how Ayn Rand presents her utopian society in Atlas Shrugged. "We have no laws in this valley," John Galt says to Dagny. "But we have certain customs, which we all observe . . ."

Customs are the rules by which individuals organize society without resort to government or law. They express the values which those individuals hold in common, and which make them willing to participate in society. Customs structure interaction in society, without binding its members in a straitjacket.

What values ought our customs to reflect? Precisely those values which lie at the foundation of the Objectivist ethics. Look at the vision which Rand projects in her description of the society in Galt's Gulch.

The value of respect for reason is illustrated by the scene in which Dagny is urged by the strikers to join them. Re-read this scene, and note the tone in which this debate of a literally life-and-death issue is conducted. Observe the authentic respect the strikers show for Dagny's intellectual autonomy, and she shows for theirs. Note the way in which rational people can defend the correctness of their own views, while disdaining to ask for, or even desire, agreement that is not motivated by their reasons.

Next turn your attention to the way the virtue of productiveness is respected. As Ellis Wyatt explains to Dagny, every achievement attained by a member of this free society contributes, directly or indirectly, to the lives of the other members. This is the root of the manifest joy they take in one another's successes. Whoever has a goal to accomplish, whether building a factory or catching a fish, is honored because any productive activity benefits society.

Finally, pride -- moral ambitiousness -- is a dominant value in the valley. Atlantis is the society that only the souls of heroes can enter. And that is part of the vision of Objectivist society -- a culture in which respect and acceptance must be earned, on the basis of moral achievement.

For Ayn Rand's heroes, as for Ayn Rand herself, ideas matter. As we have seen, only a process of independent thought can provide the individual with basic premises around which to organize his life. In the same way, a coherent society based on freedom must value certain things in the intellectual realm. When universities teach that reason is impotent, that science is a fraud, that morality is a matter of taste, they undermine the basis for society.

The Objectivist society therefore is one which values intelligence, and intellectual pursuits. As a corollary, it must value education. Today, "education" has become a political buzzword; for Objectivism, it is more. Education is not just learning a trade, though that is certainly desirable. Neither is it picking at a smorgasbord of randomly selected knowledge on assorted subjects. The Objectivist, as we have seen, requires a complete, organized, and self-consistent worldview. Education is the process by which a person builds the foundation for this knowledge structure.

The modern university has become helpless to properly fulfill its function of education, because modern ideology denies the possibility of objective truth in epistemology. Nor can the university justify any structured curriculum, because it dare not admit to any vision of objective value in ethics.

Finally, culture includes those things which people do for pleasure. As Rand pointed out, in a personal context, one can best evaluate an individual's moral stature by what he does for pleasure. The same principle applies to whole societies. If art is sick, it reflects -- or it creates -- a sick society.

Art, as Ayn Rand explained, functions by means of selecting those aspects of reality that are -- in the artist's view -- important. Art is a way of isolating what is fundamental or essential in reality, of bringing out an orderly vision from what may appear chaotic in reality.

We may advocate a free-market economy. But Hollywood consistently presents businessmen as villains, and the message is reinforced by other media from television to novels to comic books. In this cultural environment, it is virtually impossible for social customs to reflect a respect for business enterprise. Everything that art shows us today attacks the key values that would be needed in a rational society. When movie starts testify in favor of government controls, Libertarians snicker. Objectivists recognize the symptom of a serious obstacle to freedom.

For art is crucial because it engages our emotions. Again I return to a key theme: Objectivism sees human nature as an integrated whole. We are rational beings -- but that does not mean we are robots. Reason tells us what we should do; emotions make it worth doing. Objectivism does not advocate trudging through life in misery, doing the right thing solely out of a sense of duty. That is Immanuel Kant's vision, not Ayn Rand's. Every known human society has made use of art, to focus men and women's vision on what is attainable, and why it is worth attaining. If there is no art that will project the values at which we aim, that focus will be lost.

Let me invoke, at the end, one more lesson from Atlas Shrugged. After her crash landing in the valley, Dagny Taggart ultimately decides that she must return to the outside world. She attempts to hold the vision of John Galt, and of Atlantis, as a private, secret inspiration in her own soul. For, she realizes, in the corrupt, statist society, John Galt can be perceived only as evil, as "the Destroyer". In the end, she finds that this contradiction cannot be maintained. She must choose -- one, or the other -- and make her life fully consistent. And, of course, she chooses John Galt.

In just the same way, Objectivism cannot be put in a box and hidden away, to be taken out on a few private occasions. To be made real, in an individual context or in a social context, Objectivism must be allowed to exercise its universal scope. Only those men and women who live Objectivism fully -- in productive work, in intellectual independence, in friendship and in love, in their struggles and in their pleasures, will achieve its promise. Thank you.