I’ve been making my way through Ayn Rand’s epic Atlas Shrugged.  It’s a good read:  cliff-hangers, compelling characters, the lot (not even kidding).  But it’s also laced with such thinly-veiled political commentary that you’d have to be made of stone to read and not respond.

First, in the interests of full disclosure:  I consider myself politically left-of-center.  Now, that’s left-of-center by American standards, so who knows, maybe I’d be considered centrist in Europe.  But really, I’m not that concerned with assuming any one political identity.  I reserve the right to think for myself.  That’s why I’m a registered independent (before you open your mouth, MA independents don’t lose the right to participate in primaries).

If there’s one message readers of Atlas Shrugged cannot escape, it’s that money is not the root of all evil.  Enterprise for the singular purpose of profit–individualistic, self-serving, what’s mine is mine profit–is a virtue, not a sin.  The sinners (or “looters,” in Rand’s parlance) are those who produce nothing of value, but manipulate the “men in Washington” to pass laws diverting industrialists’ hard-earned assets to the craven masses… and of course themselves.  Francisco d’Arconia condenses the message in a pithy (ha) six-page speech about half-way through (which also includes that exciting moment when a character says the title of the book!)

Good.  Now you’re all up to speed.

No one can argue with the premise, as Rand lays it out.  But at the same time, I can’t believe someone of Rand’s obvious intellect could really fail to notice the endless examples of industrialists and entrepreneurs who deserve no claim to morality by any definition–including “capitalist morality” (my term, not Rand’s).  The thing is, Altas lays out a simple binary:  businessmen are either competent or incompetent.  The reader is meant to admire Rearden because he has the strength of character to bulldoze any obstacle (government cronies, pusillanimous public) that stands between him and expression of his entrepreneurial genius.  The reader is meant to despise Orren Boyle, because he has a million-and-one excuses for his chronically underperforming steel venture.  What Rand’s typology omits is the businessman who makes money hand-over-fist–not from honest industry, but by providing sub-par or  morally suspect goods and services.

Example.  In the 1970s, the august Ford Motor Corporation discovered a design flaw with it’s new Ford Pinto:  even a slight rear impact caused the cars to burst into flames.  In a case in point, Ford executives calculated it would be cheaper to shell out for a few wrongful-death claims than to recall their cars.  In this case, it proved to be a bad business decision–Ford paid more in punitive damages in one highly-publicized case than they expected to pay in total.  But the satisfaction of knowing that Ford shareholders took a hit that quarter doesn’t bring victims back to life.

Example.  In the early 2000s, researchers working on behalf of pharmaceutical giant AstraZeneca found alarming side-effects associated with the drug Rosuvastatin (commercially, Crestor).  Not wanting to lose the money they’d invested in R & D, AstraZeneca suppressed the results of the clinical trials.  Crestor hit the market on August 13th, 2003, despite the protests of consumer advocacy groups.  Almost immediately, people began dying of renal failure.  Controversy has surrounded the drug ever since, but it remains on the market in small doses.

Ford and AstraZeneca:  two wildly successful business ventures.  But they bear no resemblance to Rand’s captain of industry, Rearden, who would sooner die than issue a defective product.  In Rand, the righteous man takes pride in the quality of his product, and the profit he earns as a result.  In real life, men take pride in profit.  Full stop.

Your move, Rand.  Look me in the face and tell me what that is, if it’s not evil.  And what was their motive?  Profit.  Money.  I accept your larger point:  that being profit-driven does not necessarily mean inhuman indifference to one’s fellow man.  But when CEOs think to themselves “Yeah, I can deal with people being burned alive if it means a fatter wallet,” well… we may have a problem.