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Dennis Hardin

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  1. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from whYNOT in Epilogue for George H. Smith   
    I was deeply saddened to hear of the recent death of libertarian author and lecturer George H. Smith.  The world is definitely worse off for his absence.  From a personal standpoint, his passing has left a painful stain on some of my fondest memories from my early years in California, because he was an important part of those years. The best way I can think of to deal with my sadness is to recount some of my memories of George—positive and negative--in writing.
    I first met George at a taping for one of Nathaniel Branden’s monthly “Seminar” recordings around 1970. The informal question-and-answer session was held at Branden’s hilltop home in Bel Air near Los Angeles.  I had only recently moved to California after graduating from The University of Tennessee in Knoxville.  I had been a devoted follower of both Ayn Rand and Branden for many years, and decided to move to L.A. in large part to derive what guidance I could from Branden, who had opened a psychotherapy practice in Beverly Hills following their celebrated parting of the ways.
    At the time I had no friends—Objectivist or otherwise—in California, and George impressed me as not only highly intelligent but also a kindred spirit.   Nash Publishing had recently published an anthology of essays titled The University Under Seige, offering the perspective of myself and several other students who had been witness to the campus unrest of the late 1960s.  George had only recently signed a contract with Nash to write Atheism—The Case Against God, his now classic and brilliant defense of the atheist position, and he asked me a few questions about my experience as a published author.
    We became friends, and I often visited him and his wife at the time—the lovely Diane Hunter—over the next few years.  I also attended several events at The Forum for Philosophical Studies, a lecture organization he founded in Hollywood.   At that point, George impressed me as having an excellent grasp of the Objectivist philosophy, and I had the sense that I could learn from our discussions.  I remember seeing him present his essay on “Objectivism as a Religion” to a group of avid listeners in a home near Santa Monica, and I became convinced that his view of the break between Rand and Branden was on the mark.   I went on to attend a series of lectures--“The Fundamentals of Reasoning”—which he gave at his Hollywood apartment, and to this day I am aware of the enormous benefit I derived from what he had to say.  
    One seemingly minor example of a lesson I learned from George was the importance of a single principle—persistence.  Even today, I often invoke that concept when working through some challenging problem.  And it was George who planted the idea if my head that few things were as important to long-term success.  When I think of the vital importance of persistence, I think of George.
    Once the lectures were over, George often invited me (and others) to stay and spend some time socializing and watching TV.  As I recall, by this time he had separated from Diane Hunter and was living with Wendy McElroy.  We often watched a couple of highly irreverent television comedies—“Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” and “Fernwood Tonight.”  In the years that followed I occasionally attended parties at George’s home. 
    To repeat, George was very much an important part of my experience of California in the 1970s, and those memories mean a great deal to me.  Through him I eventually met such well-known libertarian icons as the late Roy Childs and Jeff Riggenbach.   I never agreed with George’s staunch position in favor of anarcho-capitalism, and I think this may have prevented our relationship from developing into a closer friendship.   He did not seem to enjoy extended discussions with people who did not see the world as he did. But we were friends, nonetheless.
    The last time I remember seeing George in Los Angeles was in 1989, at a gathering to celebrate the release of Branden’s autobiography, Judgment Day.  At that same occasion, I informed George that I had, along with a colleague, started my own educational organization, The Forum for the New Intellectual.  He seemed mildly curious, but never attended during the several years it was in existence.
    George and I fell out of touch for roughly two decades, until we happened to cross paths again on an Objectivist website.  In the meantime, I had pursued a career in psychology, and George had won considerable prominence as a libertarian writer, teacher and scholar.  Following our rendezvous in the cyber world, we began comparing notes and had several cordial exchanges, often of a very friendly nature.  Although I was delighted to have renewed our acquaintance, I was also shocked and disappointed by a number of things George said.   It was clear that he no longer considered himself an Objectivist, even to the point of being disdainful of those such as myself who strongly advocated for Ayn Rand’s ideas.  Incredibly, he even went so far as to distance himself from many of his own pro-Objectivist arguments in his book, Atheism: The Case Against God.   He no longer considered it important that libertarians have a rational philosophical foundation for their beliefs.
    Then inevitably the topic of anarcho-capitalism raised its obstinate head.  I made my opposition to that (IMO) destructive, rationalistic viewpoint very clear, and he was decidedly unhappy that I would undermine a position that had been the centerpiece of his intellectual career.  At some point, a rancorous online debate ensued.  It went on for days and it did not end well.  George decided to engage in what I considered to be a personal attack on my integrity, and that was the end of it. George displayed a bitterness toward me that cut very deeply.  My background in psychology helped me to see where his anger was coming from, but that did little to attenuate my pain and disillusion. That was 2012.  We never had any sort of verbal interaction again.
    And now—ten years later--I have learned of George’s tragic passing, and all the wonderful memories from the 1970s have come back in an avalanche—all the warmth, all the laughter, all the joy, all the hopes for the future, all the dreams of a better world.  No matter our differences, George and I shared many of those hopes and dreams, and he helped me learn how to live and work for that world and that future.
    Farewell, old friend.  No matter how virulent and outraged and vicious the waves—the loud, turbulent water that has long since passed under the bridge separating us--I will miss you.
    Dennis Hardin
     

  2. Thanks
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from tadmjones in Epilogue for George H. Smith   
    I was deeply saddened to hear of the recent death of libertarian author and lecturer George H. Smith.  The world is definitely worse off for his absence.  From a personal standpoint, his passing has left a painful stain on some of my fondest memories from my early years in California, because he was an important part of those years. The best way I can think of to deal with my sadness is to recount some of my memories of George—positive and negative--in writing.
    I first met George at a taping for one of Nathaniel Branden’s monthly “Seminar” recordings around 1970. The informal question-and-answer session was held at Branden’s hilltop home in Bel Air near Los Angeles.  I had only recently moved to California after graduating from The University of Tennessee in Knoxville.  I had been a devoted follower of both Ayn Rand and Branden for many years, and decided to move to L.A. in large part to derive what guidance I could from Branden, who had opened a psychotherapy practice in Beverly Hills following their celebrated parting of the ways.
    At the time I had no friends—Objectivist or otherwise—in California, and George impressed me as not only highly intelligent but also a kindred spirit.   Nash Publishing had recently published an anthology of essays titled The University Under Seige, offering the perspective of myself and several other students who had been witness to the campus unrest of the late 1960s.  George had only recently signed a contract with Nash to write Atheism—The Case Against God, his now classic and brilliant defense of the atheist position, and he asked me a few questions about my experience as a published author.
    We became friends, and I often visited him and his wife at the time—the lovely Diane Hunter—over the next few years.  I also attended several events at The Forum for Philosophical Studies, a lecture organization he founded in Hollywood.   At that point, George impressed me as having an excellent grasp of the Objectivist philosophy, and I had the sense that I could learn from our discussions.  I remember seeing him present his essay on “Objectivism as a Religion” to a group of avid listeners in a home near Santa Monica, and I became convinced that his view of the break between Rand and Branden was on the mark.   I went on to attend a series of lectures--“The Fundamentals of Reasoning”—which he gave at his Hollywood apartment, and to this day I am aware of the enormous benefit I derived from what he had to say.  
    One seemingly minor example of a lesson I learned from George was the importance of a single principle—persistence.  Even today, I often invoke that concept when working through some challenging problem.  And it was George who planted the idea if my head that few things were as important to long-term success.  When I think of the vital importance of persistence, I think of George.
    Once the lectures were over, George often invited me (and others) to stay and spend some time socializing and watching TV.  As I recall, by this time he had separated from Diane Hunter and was living with Wendy McElroy.  We often watched a couple of highly irreverent television comedies—“Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” and “Fernwood Tonight.”  In the years that followed I occasionally attended parties at George’s home. 
    To repeat, George was very much an important part of my experience of California in the 1970s, and those memories mean a great deal to me.  Through him I eventually met such well-known libertarian icons as the late Roy Childs and Jeff Riggenbach.   I never agreed with George’s staunch position in favor of anarcho-capitalism, and I think this may have prevented our relationship from developing into a closer friendship.   He did not seem to enjoy extended discussions with people who did not see the world as he did. But we were friends, nonetheless.
    The last time I remember seeing George in Los Angeles was in 1989, at a gathering to celebrate the release of Branden’s autobiography, Judgment Day.  At that same occasion, I informed George that I had, along with a colleague, started my own educational organization, The Forum for the New Intellectual.  He seemed mildly curious, but never attended during the several years it was in existence.
    George and I fell out of touch for roughly two decades, until we happened to cross paths again on an Objectivist website.  In the meantime, I had pursued a career in psychology, and George had won considerable prominence as a libertarian writer, teacher and scholar.  Following our rendezvous in the cyber world, we began comparing notes and had several cordial exchanges, often of a very friendly nature.  Although I was delighted to have renewed our acquaintance, I was also shocked and disappointed by a number of things George said.   It was clear that he no longer considered himself an Objectivist, even to the point of being disdainful of those such as myself who strongly advocated for Ayn Rand’s ideas.  Incredibly, he even went so far as to distance himself from many of his own pro-Objectivist arguments in his book, Atheism: The Case Against God.   He no longer considered it important that libertarians have a rational philosophical foundation for their beliefs.
    Then inevitably the topic of anarcho-capitalism raised its obstinate head.  I made my opposition to that (IMO) destructive, rationalistic viewpoint very clear, and he was decidedly unhappy that I would undermine a position that had been the centerpiece of his intellectual career.  At some point, a rancorous online debate ensued.  It went on for days and it did not end well.  George decided to engage in what I considered to be a personal attack on my integrity, and that was the end of it. George displayed a bitterness toward me that cut very deeply.  My background in psychology helped me to see where his anger was coming from, but that did little to attenuate my pain and disillusion. That was 2012.  We never had any sort of verbal interaction again.
    And now—ten years later--I have learned of George’s tragic passing, and all the wonderful memories from the 1970s have come back in an avalanche—all the warmth, all the laughter, all the joy, all the hopes for the future, all the dreams of a better world.  No matter our differences, George and I shared many of those hopes and dreams, and he helped me learn how to live and work for that world and that future.
    Farewell, old friend.  No matter how virulent and outraged and vicious the waves—the loud, turbulent water that has long since passed under the bridge separating us--I will miss you.
    Dennis Hardin
     

  3. Thanks
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from Boydstun in Epilogue for George H. Smith   
    I was deeply saddened to hear of the recent death of libertarian author and lecturer George H. Smith.  The world is definitely worse off for his absence.  From a personal standpoint, his passing has left a painful stain on some of my fondest memories from my early years in California, because he was an important part of those years. The best way I can think of to deal with my sadness is to recount some of my memories of George—positive and negative--in writing.
    I first met George at a taping for one of Nathaniel Branden’s monthly “Seminar” recordings around 1970. The informal question-and-answer session was held at Branden’s hilltop home in Bel Air near Los Angeles.  I had only recently moved to California after graduating from The University of Tennessee in Knoxville.  I had been a devoted follower of both Ayn Rand and Branden for many years, and decided to move to L.A. in large part to derive what guidance I could from Branden, who had opened a psychotherapy practice in Beverly Hills following their celebrated parting of the ways.
    At the time I had no friends—Objectivist or otherwise—in California, and George impressed me as not only highly intelligent but also a kindred spirit.   Nash Publishing had recently published an anthology of essays titled The University Under Seige, offering the perspective of myself and several other students who had been witness to the campus unrest of the late 1960s.  George had only recently signed a contract with Nash to write Atheism—The Case Against God, his now classic and brilliant defense of the atheist position, and he asked me a few questions about my experience as a published author.
    We became friends, and I often visited him and his wife at the time—the lovely Diane Hunter—over the next few years.  I also attended several events at The Forum for Philosophical Studies, a lecture organization he founded in Hollywood.   At that point, George impressed me as having an excellent grasp of the Objectivist philosophy, and I had the sense that I could learn from our discussions.  I remember seeing him present his essay on “Objectivism as a Religion” to a group of avid listeners in a home near Santa Monica, and I became convinced that his view of the break between Rand and Branden was on the mark.   I went on to attend a series of lectures--“The Fundamentals of Reasoning”—which he gave at his Hollywood apartment, and to this day I am aware of the enormous benefit I derived from what he had to say.  
    One seemingly minor example of a lesson I learned from George was the importance of a single principle—persistence.  Even today, I often invoke that concept when working through some challenging problem.  And it was George who planted the idea if my head that few things were as important to long-term success.  When I think of the vital importance of persistence, I think of George.
    Once the lectures were over, George often invited me (and others) to stay and spend some time socializing and watching TV.  As I recall, by this time he had separated from Diane Hunter and was living with Wendy McElroy.  We often watched a couple of highly irreverent television comedies—“Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” and “Fernwood Tonight.”  In the years that followed I occasionally attended parties at George’s home. 
    To repeat, George was very much an important part of my experience of California in the 1970s, and those memories mean a great deal to me.  Through him I eventually met such well-known libertarian icons as the late Roy Childs and Jeff Riggenbach.   I never agreed with George’s staunch position in favor of anarcho-capitalism, and I think this may have prevented our relationship from developing into a closer friendship.   He did not seem to enjoy extended discussions with people who did not see the world as he did. But we were friends, nonetheless.
    The last time I remember seeing George in Los Angeles was in 1989, at a gathering to celebrate the release of Branden’s autobiography, Judgment Day.  At that same occasion, I informed George that I had, along with a colleague, started my own educational organization, The Forum for the New Intellectual.  He seemed mildly curious, but never attended during the several years it was in existence.
    George and I fell out of touch for roughly two decades, until we happened to cross paths again on an Objectivist website.  In the meantime, I had pursued a career in psychology, and George had won considerable prominence as a libertarian writer, teacher and scholar.  Following our rendezvous in the cyber world, we began comparing notes and had several cordial exchanges, often of a very friendly nature.  Although I was delighted to have renewed our acquaintance, I was also shocked and disappointed by a number of things George said.   It was clear that he no longer considered himself an Objectivist, even to the point of being disdainful of those such as myself who strongly advocated for Ayn Rand’s ideas.  Incredibly, he even went so far as to distance himself from many of his own pro-Objectivist arguments in his book, Atheism: The Case Against God.   He no longer considered it important that libertarians have a rational philosophical foundation for their beliefs.
    Then inevitably the topic of anarcho-capitalism raised its obstinate head.  I made my opposition to that (IMO) destructive, rationalistic viewpoint very clear, and he was decidedly unhappy that I would undermine a position that had been the centerpiece of his intellectual career.  At some point, a rancorous online debate ensued.  It went on for days and it did not end well.  George decided to engage in what I considered to be a personal attack on my integrity, and that was the end of it. George displayed a bitterness toward me that cut very deeply.  My background in psychology helped me to see where his anger was coming from, but that did little to attenuate my pain and disillusion. That was 2012.  We never had any sort of verbal interaction again.
    And now—ten years later--I have learned of George’s tragic passing, and all the wonderful memories from the 1970s have come back in an avalanche—all the warmth, all the laughter, all the joy, all the hopes for the future, all the dreams of a better world.  No matter our differences, George and I shared many of those hopes and dreams, and he helped me learn how to live and work for that world and that future.
    Farewell, old friend.  No matter how virulent and outraged and vicious the waves—the loud, turbulent water that has long since passed under the bridge separating us--I will miss you.
    Dennis Hardin
     

  4. Thanks
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from dream_weaver in Epilogue for George H. Smith   
    I was deeply saddened to hear of the recent death of libertarian author and lecturer George H. Smith.  The world is definitely worse off for his absence.  From a personal standpoint, his passing has left a painful stain on some of my fondest memories from my early years in California, because he was an important part of those years. The best way I can think of to deal with my sadness is to recount some of my memories of George—positive and negative--in writing.
    I first met George at a taping for one of Nathaniel Branden’s monthly “Seminar” recordings around 1970. The informal question-and-answer session was held at Branden’s hilltop home in Bel Air near Los Angeles.  I had only recently moved to California after graduating from The University of Tennessee in Knoxville.  I had been a devoted follower of both Ayn Rand and Branden for many years, and decided to move to L.A. in large part to derive what guidance I could from Branden, who had opened a psychotherapy practice in Beverly Hills following their celebrated parting of the ways.
    At the time I had no friends—Objectivist or otherwise—in California, and George impressed me as not only highly intelligent but also a kindred spirit.   Nash Publishing had recently published an anthology of essays titled The University Under Seige, offering the perspective of myself and several other students who had been witness to the campus unrest of the late 1960s.  George had only recently signed a contract with Nash to write Atheism—The Case Against God, his now classic and brilliant defense of the atheist position, and he asked me a few questions about my experience as a published author.
    We became friends, and I often visited him and his wife at the time—the lovely Diane Hunter—over the next few years.  I also attended several events at The Forum for Philosophical Studies, a lecture organization he founded in Hollywood.   At that point, George impressed me as having an excellent grasp of the Objectivist philosophy, and I had the sense that I could learn from our discussions.  I remember seeing him present his essay on “Objectivism as a Religion” to a group of avid listeners in a home near Santa Monica, and I became convinced that his view of the break between Rand and Branden was on the mark.   I went on to attend a series of lectures--“The Fundamentals of Reasoning”—which he gave at his Hollywood apartment, and to this day I am aware of the enormous benefit I derived from what he had to say.  
    One seemingly minor example of a lesson I learned from George was the importance of a single principle—persistence.  Even today, I often invoke that concept when working through some challenging problem.  And it was George who planted the idea if my head that few things were as important to long-term success.  When I think of the vital importance of persistence, I think of George.
    Once the lectures were over, George often invited me (and others) to stay and spend some time socializing and watching TV.  As I recall, by this time he had separated from Diane Hunter and was living with Wendy McElroy.  We often watched a couple of highly irreverent television comedies—“Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” and “Fernwood Tonight.”  In the years that followed I occasionally attended parties at George’s home. 
    To repeat, George was very much an important part of my experience of California in the 1970s, and those memories mean a great deal to me.  Through him I eventually met such well-known libertarian icons as the late Roy Childs and Jeff Riggenbach.   I never agreed with George’s staunch position in favor of anarcho-capitalism, and I think this may have prevented our relationship from developing into a closer friendship.   He did not seem to enjoy extended discussions with people who did not see the world as he did. But we were friends, nonetheless.
    The last time I remember seeing George in Los Angeles was in 1989, at a gathering to celebrate the release of Branden’s autobiography, Judgment Day.  At that same occasion, I informed George that I had, along with a colleague, started my own educational organization, The Forum for the New Intellectual.  He seemed mildly curious, but never attended during the several years it was in existence.
    George and I fell out of touch for roughly two decades, until we happened to cross paths again on an Objectivist website.  In the meantime, I had pursued a career in psychology, and George had won considerable prominence as a libertarian writer, teacher and scholar.  Following our rendezvous in the cyber world, we began comparing notes and had several cordial exchanges, often of a very friendly nature.  Although I was delighted to have renewed our acquaintance, I was also shocked and disappointed by a number of things George said.   It was clear that he no longer considered himself an Objectivist, even to the point of being disdainful of those such as myself who strongly advocated for Ayn Rand’s ideas.  Incredibly, he even went so far as to distance himself from many of his own pro-Objectivist arguments in his book, Atheism: The Case Against God.   He no longer considered it important that libertarians have a rational philosophical foundation for their beliefs.
    Then inevitably the topic of anarcho-capitalism raised its obstinate head.  I made my opposition to that (IMO) destructive, rationalistic viewpoint very clear, and he was decidedly unhappy that I would undermine a position that had been the centerpiece of his intellectual career.  At some point, a rancorous online debate ensued.  It went on for days and it did not end well.  George decided to engage in what I considered to be a personal attack on my integrity, and that was the end of it. George displayed a bitterness toward me that cut very deeply.  My background in psychology helped me to see where his anger was coming from, but that did little to attenuate my pain and disillusion. That was 2012.  We never had any sort of verbal interaction again.
    And now—ten years later--I have learned of George’s tragic passing, and all the wonderful memories from the 1970s have come back in an avalanche—all the warmth, all the laughter, all the joy, all the hopes for the future, all the dreams of a better world.  No matter our differences, George and I shared many of those hopes and dreams, and he helped me learn how to live and work for that world and that future.
    Farewell, old friend.  No matter how virulent and outraged and vicious the waves—the loud, turbulent water that has long since passed under the bridge separating us--I will miss you.
    Dennis Hardin
     

  5. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from Boydstun in Ayn Rand: Her Life, Her Philosophy   
    Pencil sketch of Ayn Rand from Sunday afternoon, June 11, 1967, as she watched Nathaniel Branden lecture on romantic love at the Sheraton-Atlantic Hotel in New York City.  As you can see, I did the sketch while taking notes.  I was sitting two rows behind her.  This was roughly a year prior to their break.  The hotel is no longer there.  It used to be adjacent to the Empire State Building.

  6. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from Harrison Danneskjold in The DIM Hypothesis - by Leonard Peikoff   
    Peikoff: “ [T]he takeover of America by [religious fanatics] is not certain. In my judgment, it is only probable. But it is so highly probable as to border on certainty…Given America’s present condition and the historical factors, it is almost impossible to overestimate the likelihood of its occurrence.” [DIM Hypothesis, p. 341]

    For Peikoff to have used the word “certain,” he would have to endorse historical determinism—and that would be directly contradictory to Objectivism. He comes as close to that as is possible for someone who endorses free will.

    How long is the book? 347 pages. How many pages does Peikoff devote to the importance of resisting the historical forces he describes? 6.

    Someone operating from the benevolent universe premise would have devoted at least half of the book to an explanation of what can be done to stop the “inevitable” from happening. And the book would have been subtitled: “Why the Lights of the West are Going Out—And What You Can Do To Stop it.”

    He obviously regards that last part as comparable to pissing into the wind.

    I wonder what Ayn Rand would have said about her most prominent spokesman throwing in the towel so easily.
  7. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from softwareNerd in Atlas Shrugged Part III Greenlighted   
    I’ve often thought that Ayn Rand was wrong to condemn libertarianism for corrupting her philosophy.  With all their faults, I have often defended libertarians, and obviously many of them are good, admirable people.  After seeing AS3, though—which might  be described as a libertarian perversion of Atlas Shrugged—I would have to say Rand was justified in her fears and misgivings. 
     
    Part Three was the most important part of the trilogy because it was supposed to explain everything that happened in the first two segments.  Instead, it obfuscates the story and totally sidesteps the real philosophical issues involved.  It relegates the collapse of Rearden steel to the cinematic equivalent of a sound bite.  And Galt’s vacuous, disjointed speech explains nothing.
     
    It is not only the implied mixture of Objectivism and religion (with Glenn Beck, et. al., giving their stamp of approval to a philosophically banal Galt’s Speech).  It is the generally pathetic quality of the film itself from just about every angle—writing, casting, directing, acting, et. al.
     
    Consider this comment from The Village Voice:
     
    “Rand's parable is meant to showcase just how much our world needs the best of us, but this adaptation only does so accidentally — by revealing what movies would be like if none of the best of us worked on them.”
     
    Critics love to portray Ayn Rand as a philosophical nitwit.  Now they have a movie from her alleged followers they can offer in evidence.  The film makes Objectivists look not only elitist but pretentious and foolish.  Not to mention singularly unheroic and intellectually confused.  Egoism, like the evil of force, is not an axiom.  When civilization collapses due to the wihdrawal of the “men of the mind,” the typical movie goer could understandably blame Galt and his incoherent defense of selfishness, not government coercion.
     
    Sadly, many potential readers will never buy the novel after seeing or reading reviews of this film. It is so laughably bad they may dismiss Objectivism as some bizarre ideology like scientology.  (Remember “Battlefield Earth”?)  They will never know what they missed.
     
    Atlas Shrugged Part 3 may well go down as libertarianism’s worst crime against Ayn Rand and Objectivism.  Anarchism was bad enough, but the anarchists have never received much attention.  Fortunately, few people have heard of the naïve, rationalist “theory” of anarcho-capitalism.  But now libertarians have produced a “major motion picture” which may further serve to marginalize Ayn Rand and Objectivism as a lunatic fringe.
  8. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from Madhavi in kira argounova's unexplained actions   
    This passage reflects Kira's inner conflicts and mixed feelings about Andrei.  Rand makes clear that Kira does have strong feelings for Andrei despite the fact that he's a communist.  As an indivldual, Andrei does have some heroic and admirable qualities, so sleeping with him was not totally repugnant for her.  At the same time, any enjoyment she experienced in Andrei's bed would amount to a "sacrilege" because of her intense love for Leo.  Her pleasure would be clouded by feelings comparable to the guilt of infidelity.  She does not want to enjoy sex with Andrei--but Rand the novelist is also a woman, and she knows she could not help but enjoy it (and even desire it, to some extent).
     
    I think that, in some respects, We, The Living offers a more realistic depiction of such inner conflicts than Rand's later novels, which portrayed their central characters (with the exception of Hank Rearden) as mostly devoid of such conflicts. 
  9. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from tadmjones in The Childs-Peikoff Hypothesis   
    Libertarian references to NIOF as an axiomatic principle

    “The libertarian creed rests upon one central axiom: that no man or group of men may aggress against the person or property of anyone else. This may be called the ‘nonaggression axiom.’ ‘Aggression’ is defined as the initiation of the use or threat of physical violence against the person or property of anyone else.”
    For A New Liberty, Murray Rothbard, p 27 (second edition-1978)
    Chapter entitled “The Nonaggression Axiom”

    “No one has the right to initiate aggression against the person or property of anyone else. This is what libertarians call the nonaggression axiom, and it is a central principle of libertarianism.”
    Libertarianism: A Primer, David Boaz, p. 74

    From the wikipedia article on the Libertarian Party:

    “Since the Libertarian Party's inception, individuals have been able to join the party as voting members by signing their agreement with the organization's membership pledge, which states, based on the Non-Aggression Principle, that the signer does not advocate the initiation of force to achieve political or social goals.”

    from LewRockwell.com:

    In Defense of Libertarian Purity, Anthony Gregory
    “I consider myself a principled libertarian. Or a radical libertarian. I suppose there are many ways of saying it. Murray Rothbard called it "plumb-line libertarianism," and Walter Block has seen fit to embrace that terminology. I see it simply as the belief that initiating force is wrong.”

    Evicting Libertarian Party Principles: The Portland Purge, by L.K. Samuels
    [Objecting to the “LP Reform Caucus” in 2006]
    “So what are some of the principles that they believe must go? First and foremost is the non-aggression principle, which is considered the main threat to an election-oriented populism. If Libertarians would simply throw away this ideal, explaining LP policies on taxation, the drug war, foreign policy and military intervention would no longer be a campaign embarrassment.”

    From a libertarian blog (technoeudaimonia):
    :
    The Problem with Axiomatic Libertarianism
    “Many libertarians, following in the tradition of Murray Rothbard, propose that liberty is an axiom; that is, liberty is a self-evident fact. They include such thinkers as Hans-Hermann Hoppe with his libertarian version of argumentation ethics, Stephan Kinsella with his conception of estoppel, and Stefan Molyneux with his "universably preferable behavior". Non-aggression is thus singled out and separated from the rest of ethics, which leads to a separation of what is "right" and what is "good"; this is evident, for example, in many of the writings of Walter Block.”

    From a wikipedia entry on Hans-Hermann Hoppe:

    “Argumentation ethics argues the non-aggression principle is a presupposition of argumentation and so cannot be rationally denied in discourse. Many modern libertarian scholars have accepted Hoppe's argument, among them Murray Rothbard, Walter Block, David Gordon and Stephan Kinsella."

    I think the above might suggest that someone here is, indeed, "totally ignorant of the material they are referring to."
  10. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from Nicky in Christianity and Objectivism. Are these compatible in America?   
    As others have suggested, the key thing to note about this quote from Ayn Rand is that she clearly distinguishes between religion and 'religious people.' She often said that many people are better than their premises, but she never wavered from her conviction that religion itself is absolutely antithetical to Objectivism. All religions--and especially Christianity--represent the philosophical enshrinement of the mind-body dichotomy, and Objectivism is diametrically opposed to that doctrine and all of its disastrous ramifications for human life and human happiness.
  11. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from Kate87 in Christianity and Objectivism. Are these compatible in America?   
    As others have suggested, the key thing to note about this quote from Ayn Rand is that she clearly distinguishes between religion and 'religious people.' She often said that many people are better than their premises, but she never wavered from her conviction that religion itself is absolutely antithetical to Objectivism. All religions--and especially Christianity--represent the philosophical enshrinement of the mind-body dichotomy, and Objectivism is diametrically opposed to that doctrine and all of its disastrous ramifications for human life and human happiness.
  12. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from softwareNerd in John Allison on Book TV   
    This talk by Cato president John Allison to The Heritage Foundation on January 15, 2013 is playing on C-Span's Book TV this week-end. It is excellent. Allison should be well-known to Objectivists. He is the former CEO of BB&T and is a major contributor to the Ayn Rand Institute. He does not mention Ayn Rand by name in this talk even though everything he says is pure, undiluted Objectivism. This talk is given to promote his book, The Financial Crisis and the Free Market Cure.

    The most interesting thing about the talk, to me, is the fact that Allison's focus is on a proper moral defense of capitalism. Despite the fact that he is speaking at Heritage--a conservative think tank--Allison argues that capitalism's defenders must take up the ethical cause of rational self-interest.

    Hooray for C-Span!!

    John Allison at the The Heriitage Foundation
  13. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from CptnChan in Question about Nathaniel Branden   
    Thanks, Tony. I agree with what you say.

    One thing I frankly have never understood is why Rand would be totally exonerated because she obtained verbal approval of the affair from Barbara and Frank. Really? That makes whatever she did after that hunky dory? Suppose the rumors are true (and I obviously don’t know one way or the other) that the affair drove Frank to become an alcoholic. Was it then okay for Rand to continue the affair because he had given her the go-ahead? I have a real problem with that. Rand told PLAYBOY that she would step in front of a gun pointed at her husband. Then why would she not care about the pain he may have been enduring?

    To repeat, I am only speculating here. I could be way off base. Perhaps the affair did not cause Frank much in the way of personal anguish. Anne Heller (Ayn Rand and the World She Made) told me she believed Frank was hurt more by Rand’s refusal to let the affair die than the affair itself. Maybe so. I just know from personal experience how excruciatingly painful infidelity can be.
  14. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from BlackInMind in Relationship anxiety   
    It won’t help to simply scold yourself for irrational thinking. Cognitive-behavioral therapy requires that you identify the specific irrational thoughts and challenge them directly. For example:

    You read one of her texts and you think: She’s having doubts about whether I’m the right guy for her. She’s thinking of breaking up with me.

    Albert Ellis or a Cog-B therapist would take that thought and re-process it this way:

    What is the evidence for this? Is there another way of looking at what she said? What is the contrary evidence? If it did turn out to be true, would it really be catastrophic?

    It’s also worthwhile to enhance your self-awareness of your own self-worth—why any woman would be foolish to break up with you.

    Rather than berate yourself, sympathize with yourself for having fears of losing her: Of course you don’t want the pain that would accompany that. Nobody would. Try to accept your fears. Then reinforce your knowledge that you have the inner strength to survive that loss if it should happen.
  15. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from Hairnet in Relationship anxiety   
    It won’t help to simply scold yourself for irrational thinking. Cognitive-behavioral therapy requires that you identify the specific irrational thoughts and challenge them directly. For example:

    You read one of her texts and you think: She’s having doubts about whether I’m the right guy for her. She’s thinking of breaking up with me.

    Albert Ellis or a Cog-B therapist would take that thought and re-process it this way:

    What is the evidence for this? Is there another way of looking at what she said? What is the contrary evidence? If it did turn out to be true, would it really be catastrophic?

    It’s also worthwhile to enhance your self-awareness of your own self-worth—why any woman would be foolish to break up with you.

    Rather than berate yourself, sympathize with yourself for having fears of losing her: Of course you don’t want the pain that would accompany that. Nobody would. Try to accept your fears. Then reinforce your knowledge that you have the inner strength to survive that loss if it should happen.
  16. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from bluecherry in Relationship anxiety   
    It won’t help to simply scold yourself for irrational thinking. Cognitive-behavioral therapy requires that you identify the specific irrational thoughts and challenge them directly. For example:

    You read one of her texts and you think: She’s having doubts about whether I’m the right guy for her. She’s thinking of breaking up with me.

    Albert Ellis or a Cog-B therapist would take that thought and re-process it this way:

    What is the evidence for this? Is there another way of looking at what she said? What is the contrary evidence? If it did turn out to be true, would it really be catastrophic?

    It’s also worthwhile to enhance your self-awareness of your own self-worth—why any woman would be foolish to break up with you.

    Rather than berate yourself, sympathize with yourself for having fears of losing her: Of course you don’t want the pain that would accompany that. Nobody would. Try to accept your fears. Then reinforce your knowledge that you have the inner strength to survive that loss if it should happen.
  17. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from CptnChan in Les Miserables   
    Here is Ayn Rand's statement about the theme of Les Miserables:



    Later in the same book, she says:



    Tom Hooper, the director of the new film, did not rely on the musical as his only source material. He relied heavily on Hugo's novel:



    Ayn Rand would have loved this "horrific" film.
  18. Like
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from FeatherFall in Les Miserables   
    Here is Ayn Rand's statement about the theme of Les Miserables:



    Later in the same book, she says:



    Tom Hooper, the director of the new film, did not rely on the musical as his only source material. He relied heavily on Hugo's novel:



    Ayn Rand would have loved this "horrific" film.
  19. Downvote
    Dennis Hardin got a reaction from SapereAude in "Atlas Shrugged" Movie   
    The theme of The Fountainhead is that the individual creative mind is the source and ‘fountainhead’ of all human progress and advancement. And that sheep-like second handers who live by and through the judgments and thinking of others amount to little more than road kill in the ultimate scheme of things.

    In the world of art, a second-hander would be someone who takes credit for achievements that are not his own. Aglialorro and Kaslow did not do this. They acknowledge that they did the best they could with limited resources. Is every film-maker who does his best to transform a novel into a good movie on a limited budget a second-hander? Obviously not. It is not the case here, but many films turn out to be significantly better than the novels on which they’re based.

    Whatever their shortcomings, a number of very brilliant creative thinkers were involved in the creation of Atlas Shrugged Part One. And by helping to spread the philosophy of Ayn Rand, they are clearly succeeding in advancing human life.

    Which is quite a bit more than I can say for the film’s ‘Objectivist’ detractors.

    Incredibly, it appears that some people are actually condemning the film without seeing it. In other words, they are literally reaching their "independent" opinion by looking at it through someone else's eyes. That is the essence of living life as a second-hander.
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