In an effort to understand the many politicians and pundits who worship the writings of Ayn Rand, I’ve recently read her novel The Fountainhead. It’s a remarkable book, a defense of the individual creative spirit. I’m glad I read it and it’s a good reminder that we should all be reading things that come from different perspectives than our own preconceived biases.

The protagonist, Howard Roark is as arrogant as Ralph Nader. He is an architect who is so convinced of his own correctness (and greatness) that he will risk everything in order to buck the system. He will listen to nobody. He is ascetic, boring, and a loner. Roarke has incredible will and can push ahead even when there appears to be no way forward. He is egotistical but he is also correct and an admirer of excellence. He is willing to sacrifice the immediate common good and his own career for his ego and principles, but those principles at their heart are about designing superior buildings and making society better.

Roark’s foil is Peter Keating, a man of mediocre talent and no original ideas. Paul Ryan and Scott Walker must tell themselves daily that they are more like Howard Roark than Peter Keating, but deep in their guts they fear otherwise. Keating lacks will, he can’t make anything happen on his own. He lacks ego and will simply do the bidding of others because he cannot create an original thought. Most of all, he lacks righteousness or any concept of right or wrong altogether. His is not immoral so much as amoral.

Gail Wynand is the story’s Donald Trump. A rich powerful man with plenty of will and ego but by his own admission no principles or soul whatsoever. He is a fighter who admires Roarke for his will, but ultimately is brought down by his own lack of moral character.

Roark’s romantic interest is Dominique Francon, who is a bit like Ivanka Trump (or perhaps there is a better example). She is gorgeous, has plenty of ego and talent but ultimately no will. She believes in herself, expresses her firm opinion, but in the end she lets other people determine the course of her life.

Ellsworth Toohey is the Bill Clinton of the book, and intended by Rand to be the villain. Through charm, intellect, and good deeds Toohey pursues power for its own sake. Like Rourke, he has will and ego, but like Wynand Toohey lacks scruples and morality. Yet somehow Rand would have the reader to elevate Wynand’s greed over Toohey’s lust for power.

I enjoyed The Fountainhead’s celebration of the individual and creativity. It reminded me of how I like to cook, but only if my wife doesn’t tell me what recipe to use or try to collaborate on the process. It’s not only that too many cooks can spoil the soup, but for me the joy of doing something comes from it being a creative enterprise. That joy does seem to evaporate once others begin to impose their ideas and suggestions on it, so I get where Roark is coming from. Some projects are best undertaken alone.

But not everyone feels that way about any given project, and that’s not only OK it’s a good thing. Imagine what the world would be like if everyone thought like Ralph Nader. My wife, and many others, cook better as part of a collective process. We don’t need every human to be solitarily creating things all day long. We need most people to simply work with and enjoy things that others have created. There is little creative originality in picking oranges, processing health insurance paperwork, running a 50-yard dash in the Olympics, or assembling automobiles, but we need people to do those things and we need to value those people in a way Rand seems incapable of.

Rand’s argument for egotism has (at least) two flaws. The first is that while it is worthwhile to celebrate the human ego, Rand needlessly denounces other important human characteristics such as cooperation and charity. There is no need to put one thing down in order to lift another up. While the ego may be essential for works of creation, there are many other important human undertakings where cooperation is more important. A soccer player who can’t pass the ball or a soldier who won’t subordinate his own will to his commanding officer not only reduce their own chances for success — they jeopardize the success of others. The Fountainhead needlessly denigrates government and non-profit organizations — ironic because Rand herself accepted Medicare and Social Security benefits from the government once she succumbed to lung cancer.

The second flaw of The Fountainhead is that it offers no guidance to distinguish between the Howard Roarks of the world, who willfully protect their own ego in pursuit of truth, beauty, and the public good and the Charles Kochs, who convince themselves that egotism is a virtue for its own sake even while pursuing unoriginal projects that pollute the earth and kill people. The Fountainhead empowers men of both good and mediocre qualities to conflate arrogant self-gratification with doing the right thing even in the face of tremendous opposition and at considerable risk to oneself.

Rand is obviously smart, arguably one of the greater thinkers of the past century. Had she not have been blinded by her own ego, she might have seen how other lesser thinkers would use her life’s work to pursue selfish greed rather than selfish good.

[See also Derek Cressman’s Review of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged and Reality(TM) 2048, a dystopian novel that features an Ayn Rand devotee as a major character.]