DonAthos

Regarding the discussion between softwareNerd and Trebor... for myself, the basic issue is this: I believe in reason and reality, and I believe in them deeply. I believed in those things prior to reading Ayn Rand, though I did not recognize all of their consequences in branches of philosophy such as ethics or politics until reading Rand. I've come to believe that it was precisely this -- my committment to reason and reality -- which made Rand so compelling; when I established that she was arguing contra to some of my beliefs and that her arguments were correct, then I was undone in my opposition, and only too happy to concede on those points. This took place one argument at a time; I never reached a stage where I said, "Ayn Rand was right on X" and therefore took her word on Y. I challenged and fought on every topic, and was as happy to lose as anything else, so long as my "loss" was to the best argument. When I say that "I am an Objectivist," what I mean is that I believe that the specifics with regards to Objectivist Metaphysics, Epistemology, Ethics, and etc., are consonant with reason and reality, in my experience, and according to the best application of my mind that I can muster. I believe that Objectivism is true. And in that way, I do hold Objectivism to be an indivisible whole -- not one that can "stand or fall," but only one that stands. However. Should I ever become convinced that Objectivism was in any way wrong -- and as an Objectivist, I'm not very well disposed to speculate on how that might happen -- it would be through that mechanism and no other; I would have to be convinced. And that means: it would only be because it was demonstrated to my satisfaction that Objectivism was inconsistent with reason and reality. While rejecting Objectivism would mean that I would simultaneously reject Objectivist Metaphysics, Epistemology, Ethics, etc., as such, I would never reject reason and reality, nor would I reject any aspect of Objectivism which I believed continued to meet my experience of reality according to my best use of reason. I would leave Objectivism in the exact same fashion in which I had come to it -- not as some undifferentiated mass to be swallowed whole or rejected -- but one argument at a time, with each given thought and weight and its proper accord.

As I'm sure you might guess, no, I'm not. Or at least, that's not my intention. But I did want to comment on the basic situation, and how it relates to my experience and participation in the thread (and more generally on this board). I thought I could do so without exhuming the matter to "get to the bottom of things," and perhaps that was a mistake on my part. There's a lot more that I'm sure we could both say on this subject, but I respect your desire to break off conversation with Jonathan and I don't mean to sidetrack us further. It's just -- and perhaps I should make this into a script (do people still use scripts?) -- I think there's something about civility which is worth mentioning and worth fighting for. Perhaps someday that will be its own thread, and I can build myself a proper soapbox to stand upon there. For now, back to the art... Right. And it's exactly this sort of thing that the word "trash" puts in my mind. This is the sort of thing I feel as though I'm invited to compare to Parrish's work, and it's this which makes me react in the manner I do and say, "no -- that's not trash!" This is not my way of backtracking. We're still in agreement that we can't evaluate Rand's statement without a better understanding of what she meant and her reasons. But I do want the record to show that I react in a certain way when I hear "trash" used in any way to describe artwork like this. I feel like I have some basic understanding of what "trash" is, and Parrish's artwork just ain't what comes to my mind. I agree that Rand wasn't the type of person to throw out rash, unfounded judgements. And I don't believe that this truly represents a difference between our opinions, but I think it's worth stating that even people who aren't the type to do rash things sometimes do them. So we're agreed that we don't know Rand's reasoning -- and perhaps can't know -- and therefore cannot evaluate her conclusion. But I might stop short of saying that "I don't think she threw out an unconsidered judgement." Such may well have been "out of character"... but that remains a possibility, doesn't it? All right, I think I may better understand some of the miscommunication here. We can imagine two distinct senses of "trash." The first is, as you say, "whatever is loathsome to me is trash." By that standard, I could pronounce Hamlet "trash" if I happened to loathe the Danes for some reason, and my judgement could be considered "objective" in the sense that I'm correctly identifying my own experience of disgust. The second sense of "trash" is a verdict on the quality of the play, as such, according to whatever objective criteria we'd ultimately agree are relevant to dramatic art. I believe that both Jonathan and myself have been relying upon this second sense of "trash" -- assuming that Rand's claim must be assessed against objective measures for quality in art. If she was merely saying "I don't like it," then of course there would be nothing wrong about that. But we don't know which sense she intended. We should be careful of what I believe is the potential for equivocation here. A man can say "Hamlet is an awful play" and mean the sense of "awful as art"; if he does, then he hasn't "correctly identified the facts of reality" even if Hamlet is truly awful for him in the personal sense of bringing back painful memories. The correct identification of the facts of reality in such a case would be, "Hamlet is a great play (or perhaps even, 'Hamlet may be a great play') but I don't personally enjoy it; it is awful for me." I grant that this sentence could be summarized with, "Hamlet is an awful play." But I think it's important to recognize that this is a different sense than the one I've identified in the previous paragraph. "Hamlet is an awful play" may mean one or the other, but we can't equivocate and insist that it always carries the meaning of both senses in which this phrase may be used. Windy McElroy? Lol, I know -- that essay went on forever, right?! (I only kid because I'm at least twice as verbose as she...) Actually, I thought that McElroy was very fair and evenhanded in her discussion of the material, especially in light of the personal history she related in her conclusion. I just -- as you well know -- disagree with her conclusions. And since I'm trying to get some separation from that topic even in the thread dedicated to it, I hope you'll forgive me if that's all I say about that particular scene here. (Though I will say with regards to the film clips you embedded that I thought the panda bear a nice touch... )

I understand, and I do not dismiss the importance of definitions. I apologize for the misunderstanding, and no -- I didn't take your post to be an angry one; I did not mean to refer to that post, specifically. However, the conversation "around" my attempts to engage in this discussion productively have featured sentiments like, "It's both amusing and pathetic how far certain people will go to deny reality," and "You bore me . . .This 'discussion' is a waste of my time." To be honest with you? I think that there's something of real interest in this discussion -- the question of what Rand might have meant by "trash," and whether it was proper for her to speak in such a fashion, and what the impetus might have been. I think it's valuable to try to suss this matter out. But more important to me is how this conversation is actually conducted, here and now. It's not pleasant to have to deal with angry people. It makes things seem like a "waste of time," as you've indicated, and in my experience functions to make my life worse for participating. I don't have a fully formulated theory on proper philosophical discourse yet, but it's a subject that this forum has provoked me to spend some time thinking about. There are many seemingly hostile people about. Perhaps that's just "the Internet." But that doesn't mean I have to like it, or that I'll stand pat while we treat one another like jerks. I expect better, and I think we should all expect better. Definitions are critical, no question. But even that is within a certain context. I believe that there are conversations within which understanding is possible without necessarily requiring a formal process of definition. And actually where a call for that kind of process might serve to distract. Specifically, I think that both you and Jonathan can understand one another based on the conversation which has already taken place, I sincerely do. And yet? So far as I can tell, you've been talking right past one another. I've witnessed a discussion of definitions, and it did not appear to serve. As my effort to light a candle (as opposed to cursing the darkness), I submit that you and I can understand one another, if we make an effort to do it. In fact, I think we're already well on that road. I think you're not considering the analogy in full. I'm not claiming that the preference for vanilla is subjective. I am claiming, instead, that using that personal preference as the basis for a claim that "vanilla cakes are good of good quality; chocolate cakes are of bad quality" is. What makes a cake of good or bad quality? I don't know. But if we were to argue for objective criteria, it wouldn't be, "whatever tastes good to you." One's personal tastes are not the standard of objective quality. Or if they are, then it's true that vanilla cakes are of good quality and chocolate cakes are of bad quality... if you're Steve who prefers vanilla. But also true that chocolate cakes are of good quality and vanilla cakes are of bad quality... if you're Rick who prefers chocolate. But that doesn't seem right to me. Does it seem right to you? I agree with you, and I'm similarly at a loss at her statement... but I'm not completely at a loss -- and I feel fairly confident that you're not either. We know this, don't we?: that "trash" is negative. And strong. We know that trash is something that you eliminate from your life. It seems to convey disdain. We don't know precisely what Rand meant, nor the basis for her conclusion -- and without that knowledge, I don't believe I can agree or disagree with her, per se -- but I would be lying if I said that her use of "trash" didn't convey any meaning at all. And I would also be lying if I said that Parrish's artwork looked anything like what "trash" typically means to me. Is your experience of this different? With respect to flavor, do you mean to say that one preference -- of vanilla over chocolate or vice-versa -- is, itself, to be preferred according to some standard? That a man who prefers vanilla is therefore better than a man who prefers chocolate (or the other way around, perhaps)? If so, I have to know -- which is objectively superior?! Vanilla or chocolate? (And I kid, of course. Actually, I think there's a lot that we could discuss on the subject of flavor... but that's a completely different conversation. At the least we can say that there has not yet been any case made for "vanilla as the superior flavor," nor does a taste for vanilla appear to be at the end of a process of reasoning.) As regards art, you and I are agreed that there are objective standards for it. And I don't believe Jonathan disagrees with that either. But he's also contending that there are no conceivable objective standards by which Parrish's work can be considered "trash." Just as, suppose we invented a master baker who creates a wonderful cake -- and I'm stipulating that this is so. (By what standard? I don't know, as I'm as much a baker as I am a painter -- but let's say it is according to the specifications put out by Le Cordon Bleu, if we can trust them to produce a wonderful cake.) Okay. Now we suppose that this is a chocolate cake. The first person who takes a bite of this cake is someone who loves vanilla, but loathes the taste of chocolate. And he steps away from the cake and says in disgust, "this cake is trash! It's chocolate!" Well, what then? How do we view this pronouncement? Is it "objective"? Now, here's where we are with Parrish's artwork, I believe: I look at it and say that I like it. Jonathan, I'm guessing, likes it. Do you like it, too, Trebor? I imagine that you do. And Brian says this: "I do very much enjoy Mr. Parrish’s paintings and find them to be beautiful." All right. But Rand said: "trash." And we don't know how or why she had that reaction, but we must at least recognize the possibility that it was based upon her personal preferences, mustn't we? We agree. If such definitions are truly needed, I am perfectly happy to engage those definitions which you've supplied: We're agreed that there's nothing "arbitrary" or having to do with the "primacy of consciousness" with one's recognition that 1) one prefers vanilla to chocolate, or that 2) he therefore prefers a vanilla cake to a chocolate cake. Indeed it is the very opposite. However, pronouncing a chocolate cake which one has no taste for to be of low quality, or "trash," because one does not like chocolate, is questionable at least. It does not seem to be an "evaluation which corresponds or correctly identifies and evaluates the facts of reality." Earlier I'd also provided an analogy (which perhaps you also think bad? ) of someone who dislikes Hamlet due to their own personal family's history. I don't think that an "arbitrary" thing to do. But I wouldn't say that, should this person therefore claim that "Hamlet is an awful play," that this person has "correctly identified the facts of reality." Would you? I don't. I think you're only recognizing part of my case. Here it is again, with emphasis added, and your reaction leading to this question: As an attempt to break this down: 1) One has a taste preference for vanilla over chocolate. -- Not subjective. An identification of a fact of reality. 2) One prefers a vanilla cake over chocolate cake. -- Not subjective. An identification of a fact of reality. 3) The chocolate cake that one dislikes is therefore "trash." -- Subjective? At the least: not necessarily an identification of a fact of reality. (Or, if the cake is trash, it isn't because the person dislikes chocolate.) Consider these statements: (paraphrased, but based on real life conversations I've had) "Disney's Beauty and the Beast is awful. Why? Because it's a cartoon, and I don't like cartoons." "West Side Story sucks. Why? Because the people sing and dance." Do these seem to be objective pronouncements to you? They do not to me. This has nothing to do with the recognition that someone has personal preferences; it has everything to do with the conclusions one draws about the merits of cakes, or artwork, or etc., on the basis of one's personal preferences. And this is precisely it. This is what I mean. Jonathan's case is: that there exists no "standard beyond 'I like'" (or in this case "I dislike") which could lead a person to conclude that "Parrish's artwork is trash." And in the name of your definition of objectivity, he invites us to examine reality (as this artwork is available for us to see), and then "correctly identify and evaluate the facts." "Look at the art," Jonathan says (paraphrased), "and tell me whether this is 'trash.'" He's not wrong to say that. You and I argue that the missing piece for evaluating, not the artwork, but Rand's statements regarding it is: what did Rand mean by "trash," and how did she arrive at that? But. We must be open to at least the possibility that Jonathan is correct; that "trash" may have been a judgement based solely on Rand's personal preferences. He hasn't made that case -- not to my satisfaction -- but we should recognize what Jonathan would have to establish in order to press his case... or at least the points on which I would have to be satisfied to agree with him. And that was the purpose to my post #70, to which you'd initially replied. Jonathan maintains that Rand's pronouncements were attributable to a preference for "boldness of color," among other things. Well, all right -- can any case be made for or against boldness of color? Can the case be made that Rand actually preferred that? Does Parrish's art "suffer" from a deficiency of such boldness? And so on. I think this discussion (as any other) depends on clarity, insofar as we can manage it, and mutual understanding. I don't agree that an attempt to determine formal definitions always serves this purpose or is always necessary (though sometimes it does serve that purpose, and sometimes it is necessary). I hope you don't bow out. Your perspective and insights are valuable, and I hope you don't take anything I've said as suggesting the contrary, because such was never my intention. (And you may take it from me that I never would want you to bow out from any conversation in which I participate.)

I apologize, but that doesn't quite speak to what I'd intended. I wasn't asking you what the purpose of a definition was. Instead I was indicating that I'm not sure what you're trying to ascertain, which remains true. Let me tell you, rather, what I'm attempting to do at present, and in my last post: convey the meaning of the question that Jonathan has been asking, as a context for my reply to him. I think that what once might have been a productive discussion has degenerated into an angry quibble over terminology, and I'd like to avoid that happening again if possible. I wasn't suggesting any standard for "superior," and actually the question of one's standard for such things is precisely what's at issue. Apparently Rand pronounced the artwork of a particular artist "trash." The question is: by what standard? Jonathan's contention (I believe) is that there is no standard by which it could be pronounced trash, except that Rand may have had a personal distaste for it on the order of one's taste for vanilla or chocolate. To make the meaning clear, Jonathan demonstrated that if you personally disliked the flavor of chocolate, you wouldn't therefore dub the baker of a chocolate cake a "bad baker." Of course. None of this is at issue. Okay, and where does one's evaluation of a painter's work (i.e. "trash") lie? Jonathan is contending that Rand's evaluation of Parrish applies only to her, and to those who also have the particular personal reaction she experiences when looking at his artwork. That another person may find Parrish "great" due to having other particular personal reactions. And that these personal reactions, while attributable to a "reason, not a process of reasoning," (like flavor) are not governed by any universal standard by which men in general may deem art "great" or otherwise. Were this the case, the greatness of an artist like Parrish would be "subject" to who you, as the viewer, are; Parrish's artwork would be both "trash," and "great," depending on who you ask. Well, excellent. I don't think that Jonathan would be upset to proceed based on this -- I think he'd ask whether Parrish's artwork is "trash" in the sense that this is an "identification and evaluation which corresponds or correctly identifies and evaluates the facts of reality"? To put it simply: is Parrish's work trash? Nobody aims to cause any confusion, and actually I feel I'm working overtime to eliminate confusion, so I hope that this assists. The question of whether Parrish's-work-as-trash is an objective assessment or a subjective assessment is the question before us. The argument is that if the assessment is based upon personal preferences like one's personal preference for chocolate over vanilla, that it would be a subjective assessment. Jonathan believes that this must be the source, because: Parrish's work is not trash. Not quite. Rather, if Rand's preference for boldness of color is just like a preference for the taste of vanilla, and if it forms the basis for her opinion of Parrish's artwork, then her pronouncing Parrish's artwork "trash" is "subjective." Preferring vanilla over chocolate in itself is not "subjective." But pronouncing all vanilla-based desserts good and all chocolate-based desserts bad, in terms of quality, on that basis, is. I agree. I don't think that this is necessarily so. I'm doing my best to avoid that kind of conversation -- I am staunch in my belief that people of goodwill can discuss difficult topics, and even those upon which they disagree, without such accusations and insults. I do not expect him to insult me. There may be confusion at times, but I disagree that this is an issue of "clear definitions." I believe that if we all make an effort to understand one another, and if we're equally committed to the kind of conversation that I insist is both preferable and achievable, that we will succeed. All that said, I feel I've done too much in trying to "speak for Jonathan," and so I'd ask him to kindly clarify or correct wherever I may have misspoken.

It's not quite clear to me what you're trying to ascertain, but here's the issue: If I prefer vanilla to chocolate -- which we can regard as a fact -- ought I on that basis proclaim vanilla to be "superior" to chocolate? Because I think that's precisely what Jonathan believes underlies Rand's claim with this art: that she has certain aesthetic personal preferences that are true of her, like a person's preference for vanilla, and on that basis pronounces one artist as great and another as trash. What I'm saying is that, if he is correct -- if Rand's preference for boldness of color is as personal to her and as non-reasoned as a taste preference for vanilla -- and if it was upon that basis (or similar) that she came to pronounce Parrish's work trash, then we may regard that pronouncement as "subjective," and I believe wrong to make. In such a case, it would be more proper to say that "I don't like" a thing, rather than "it's trash." Now, I don't think Jonathan's proven any of that, so we're that far away from any such conclusion, but I present it as the type of case he would have to make (and prove) for me to agree with the conclusion he's after. Or at least, it's the kind of reasoning I would have to do on my own to feel justified in agreeing with him. Does that clarify? Do you disagree?

To better express my position as regards yours, I thought I'd backtrack a moment to this. Let's suppose that, for the purpose of discussion, we adopted the reasons you give for Rand's assessment of Capuletti -- bold colors, clarity, precise details, etc. -- and likewise that Parrish is termed "trash" due to soft edges, toned down color, and so on. Now imagine that I did whatever work necessary, in terms of studying art in general, to have a good understanding of color, brushstroke, and etc., so that I could recognize and assess them (and say "that brushstroke is messy, but that other one is precise"), and then better familiarized myself with Capuletti and Parrish's work. At that point, I would have to take seriously the idea that boldness in color matters, and assess the role of the brushstroke, and so on. In other words, I would have to take it fairly as an argument and weigh it. If instead I were to consign it all to "subjective preferences" without that consideration, I would be begging the question. If Rand were to say that "bold colors are preferable to toned down colors," I guess I would have to entertain the notion. Why, after all, does she claim that? And if you, or Trebor, or someone else took up Rand's argument (since she can't), we could hash it out. Maybe I would finally conclude that the boldness of color is equivalent to one's taste preference from chocolate to vanilla. And on that basis, I would deem Rand's preference subjective, and that she was therefore wrong to pronounce Parrish's work "trash" as opposed to just saying something like "I don't like it." Or at any rate, I might conclude that "Rand was wrong, if that was her rationale." (And maybe it was, and maybe even that could be demonstrated to my satisfaction even without her personal participation in the conversation.) But the point is that my evaluation of her opinion would come at the end of a process by which I would come to understand her position.

That doesn't sound like a wise thing to do, no. As it applies to what we've been discussing, do you mean to say that I'm in a position to determine whether Rand knew "little to nothing about visual arts techniques"? I agree with you completely. Perhaps this was just misunderstanding on my part, but I was reacting to your use of the word "prefer." I think that a person could "be objective" in preferring a mediocre artist over a great one, in the same way he could prefer a mediocre cake over a great one, accounting to his individual preference of vanilla to chocolate. Indeed, I would account it questionable for such a man to declare that he "prefers" the chocolate cake, when it tastes awful to him, in recognition of its "greatness." His preference should take into account the fact that he prefers the taste of vanilla to chocolate, which is no less meaningful for not being universal. But I understand your use of "prefer" now just to mean one's recognition of objective greatness. And we're also agreed, I believe, that a person writing reviews of bakers must be on guard against allowing their preference for vanilla to color their judgement of which chef baked the better cake. (How difficult this would be for a person who loved the taste of vanilla and despised the taste of chocolate is an interesting question...) In the first place, I have to say that I'm very appreciative of your selecting Parish (for Parrish) -- well done. Now I have to be careful, and in the interest of full disclosure tell you that I grew up on the 80s Celts, so if I have anything like a vanilla over chocolate here, the Chief probably speaks to it. Bill Simmons, early in the book I'd referenced, did likewise in admitting his potential for bias as an unrepentant fan of an earlier-era Celtics. And actually, if a pastry reviewer who hated chocolate (which, now that I think about it, seems unlikely ) got stuck reviewing a baker on the basis of his chocolate cake, I'd expect him to talk about his personal dislike for chocolate immediately, to give the recipient of his review that context for evaluation purposes. That said, I do not believe that my individual preferences will render me incapable of telling the difference between Parish and Breuer, or that Simmons' background makes his stated criteria flawed. Indeed, it is the great advantage of providing such criteria and reasoning that we can examine Simmons' claims, and evidence, and reach our own conclusions as to his evaluations -- to determine whether they are truly objective, or whether they may be reflective of his individual tastes (which are also helpful to know). But that's precisely what's missing here with respect to this hypothetical praise of Randy Breuer and dismissal of Parish, or Rand's evaluations. I know that you think a claim like Breuer over Parish is so absurd on its face as to guarantee that it sources from some individual history which is inapplicable to determining objective "greatness." But the truth is -- and so far as I can tell, I mean this, and am not merely speaking rhetorically or out of fidelity to "my side of the debate" -- if you were to make those very claims regarding Breuer and Parish, I would immediately ask you to explain your rationale. Maybe you don't have one, and sputter in the face of my question? Maybe you start talking about your childhood in Minnesota, which gives me an idea as to where your opinions really come from. But I would want to hear you out as a part of my process of evaluation. I would want to feel like I understood you. Oh, to be sure, I'd be immediately suspect, and it would certainly occur to me that you might be speaking out of some kind of ignorance or fan's passion. Depending on the context, I would also believe that you're seeking controversy in your claim, which can cut a couple of different ways. But often when someone says something apparently outrageous, they do have some point that they're trying to convey. This again reminds me of Rand and her intentionally provocative title "The Virtue of Selfishness." How many people in my life have dismissed Rand on that, or a similar, basis? So if you were to make a seemingly preposterous observation regarding basketball, I would be prepared to reject your claim... but in some respects, I would also initially take the very absurdity of your claim as a challenge, and as a suggestion that you might have some hidden perspective. And so I'd demand your reasoning. With this as background, what more would I accord Bill Simmons if he were to make that same claim? Now ultimately, I don't care who Bill Simmons is; his opinions on basketball will stand or fall on their own merit, and without respect to the "authorities" which hold to them. But so long as he generally strikes me as intelligent and knowledgeable regarding basketball -- which he does -- I would want to give even his outrageous basketball claims a full hearing. I think that two things need to be understood. 1) The subject matter. And you're right in that I beg off in part on that grounds alone. But really our debate is over 2) The claim being made. Before we evaluate the claim being made against the subject matter, I believe it is important to understand that claim. (And to clarify, I don't just mean "Rand's statements." The words we use point to our meaning, but sometimes there is an error in communication -- as I believe happened above when I mistook your use of the word "prefer." So I seek to understand what Rand meant, more than just "what she said.") And where Rand says "trash," I believe that you consider your understanding complete (or at least sufficient). But for myself, I do not. Trust me, I get it. You've seen Parrish's artwork, and it's not trash. So anyone who claims that it is must be wrong, and of course Ayn Rand is not exempt from "anyone." Come to this, we're agreed. Even though I'm a novice where painting is concerned, I feel that I know enough to say that Parrish's artwork isn't trash at all. And I think that when we say these things, we are probably in basic concord; while I'll stipulate that you know much more than I about art, I'd bet that we have a similar understanding of what "trash" means (though I look forward greatly to one day engaging you on the subject of abstract art; I miss your conversation with Brian). And if I were convinced that Rand was making a claim contrary to the precise sense which I mean when I say, "this artwork is not trash," then I wouldn't hesitate to assert that she's wrong and attempt to back up my claim. However, Ayn Rand was a philosopher by trade and one of great experience and insight. Apart from my specific knowledge of Objectivism, generally I'll just recognize that she's developed her own aesthetic theories, and that many of her theories run counter to "common understanding." Like Bill Simmons, I finally have no plans on deferring my judgement to Rand, or to any other. I'm prepared to evaluate her claims as ruthlessly as she would do to mine. But I do want to know what she specifically meant by "trash" prior to that evaluation, and I'm not satisfied that I do understand sufficiently for that task.

I think you might be taking "career" too narrowly. Here's a scenario: It's a man's anniversary, but his boss asks him to stay late at work to get a jump on a new project. It's presented as a request -- desired by the boss, but not "mandatory." What should the man do? If you think that Objectivism requires the man to stay at work, because he cannot value family over career, or that Rand would hold the man who goes home to his wife as immoral, then I disagree that this is what we're talking about. I think it might be perfectly proper and moral for the man to opt to go home to his wife in this scenario, and that's almost certainly what I would do in that situation. Instead I look at "career" as a function of "productiveness"; it's part of what I might term the cultivation of the self, or if you will, the soul. And while SapereAude may have beat me to it a bit with C.S. Lewis, consider a Christian's view of his relationship with God. Ought a Christian value his relationship with his family over his relationship with God? Or vice-versa? The relationship with God would be considered primary, right? Though it wouldn't be seen as being any kind of "conflict" with a man's relationship with his family -- instead, the blessings of family would be seen as possible through his relationship with God. We could say, per Christianity, that for a man to be a good family man, he should first "be right with God." While there is no particular call for an Objectivist to be a "family man," the rationale is somewhat the same. There's no prohibition against family, or valuing others highly, and I doubt there exists any Objectivist that doesn't do so. But I regard honest and meaningful love as being contingent upon first being a strong and good human being. Productiveness is a part of that. If I truly wish to be a good family man, I must first be a good man. So I opt to be a good man, not in service to my family, but in service to having the best life possible and all of life's attendant blessings, among which my wife stands out as one of the most radiant things I've ever known.

Agreed. Okay. Is the context of the appraisals we're discussing a published review? Because I would assume, if that were the case, that Rand would have spelled her reasoning out at some greater length than just a summary statement like "trash" or "tour de force." That's what I would expect in a formal review (from anyone). Objectivity would require recognizing greatness for what it is and mediocrity for what it is. Or at least that would be the goal, though I'm sure we could allow a person to be mistaken in their assessment. And I thought that we were approaching agreement that in any person's reaction to a given artwork, there is going to be something of a blend of objective and subjective (meaning: individual) bases for that reaction. Even if there's no "rational basis" for preferring vanilla to chocolate -- or no rational basis we're aware of -- that doesn't mean that the person who therefore prefers a vanilla cake of mediocre construction to a chocolate cake made greatly is irrational. It happens that I would need to hear about all of that, because I don't follow pro football. Perhaps the NBA would be a better common ground? No. But it is somewhat reflective of my ability to judge a tour-de-force, as I see it. Look, this example may do as much for you as the NFL does for me, but have you ever played the board game Go? (If not, I highly recommend it.) One interesting aspect of Go is that there is a huge separation in skill between the very best and the very worst, or beginning. I'm told much more so than Chess. In my experience, "Go masters" (or what passes for mastery among the groups I've known) can play someone of lower skill and identify quickly about how good their opponent is, within one or two ranks. When someone of low skill plays someone of high skill, however? Typically they have no clue how skillful the master is. A few ranks above, or by several more, it all appears to be a sort of undifferentiated "better than me." And that's how I feel when trying to gauge the mastery of this kind of work. I'm not knowledgeable enough to feel like I can say "tour-de-force" or not. Another arena where I'm more comfortable, like television? I feel more confident in my opinions. But fine art? Is beyond me at present. This is what I'm saying: I don't know what Ayn Rand meant. I don't know what she had in mind. I can tell you what I think and feel when I look at those paintings, and I have done somewhat, but I can't defend Rand's opinions on this subject because I don't believe that I understand her opinions, or their basis, or this subject sufficiently to do so. Just as I don't feel that I can defend Rand's opinions on this subject, neither do I feel as though I can disagree with them. Without knowing her rationale, they are essentially arbitrary to me. It's as though if you were to name me your Top-10 All-Time List of NFL Wide Receivers. What should I do with such a thing? I'd have no basis of agreeing with you, or disagreeing with you, unless I had some better idea of the players, and the criteria upon which you'd decided that a wide receiver is great or otherwise. I would have to understand your rationale along with your results. If we do move this to the NBA, it was not so long ago that I read Bill Simmons' The Book of Basketball, wherein he tried to identify his idea of a proper Hall of Fame roster (as opposed to the actual one), and he found it necessary to introduce his rubric, as it were, and to argue for every selection. Some of his choices could conventionally be considered "controversial" (how's that for alliteration!?), but it's neither here nor there whether or not I eventually agreed or disagreed, player for player. The point is that, had he simply produced a list of names without that argument -- without that book that he wrote to demonstrate his argument -- it would be rather empty for me to "agree or disagree" with his list, and that's despite the fact that I know far more about the NBA than either the NFL or fine art. Ayn Rand alone could argue for her opinions, and often did, and typically with merit and unconventional thinking. So absent her argument, why would I dismiss her opinion out-of-hand without feeling confident that 1) I understood her, and 2) I understood the relevant subject in question? By the way, if you think I'm also telling you what you should do, you're wrong. If you think you do understand these things well enough to come to your own conclusion, that's fantastic. And if you think it's worthwhile to explain these paintings, and what Rand believed about them, and the objective criteria against which Rand went afoul, and etc., I'll be happy to receive that instruction. Make that case, and I might well agree with you. But absent that case -- absent my understanding -- I can't simply agree with you that Rand didn't know what she was talking about, because I just don't know that to be true. "Everyone" sounds big and intimidating. I'll shy away from that, at present. Neither does your example -- that I couldn't judge whether Kant or Derrida was right or wrong without a personal interview and a complete glossary -- sound like what I mean. But how's this. I wouldn't dismiss Kant's arguments, or Derrida's arguments until I believed that I understood their arguments sufficiently to recognize them as faulty. At present? I know that Rand didn't think highly of Kant. What should I make of that? I don't know; I've never read him. Since we're talking about this, it was in this precise manner that I came to read Rand. I was presented with a summary of some of her viewpoints, as an argument against me, but I felt that there was no justice in my dismissing them without a proper hearing. So I read The Virtue of Selfishness, to get it from the horse's mouth. And again, I don't know if that's a courtesy I'd extend to everyone. Probably it isn't. I did read Mein Kampf, but not because I believed Hitler deserved the same kind of hearing out. But in this case? Yeah, I think I'd like to understand what Rand meant before placing myself on one side of the line or the other. And I recognize that you find it patently obvious what she meant, and equally obvious that she was wrong. I respect that, and if I believed as you do, I would say so. I've already said that "Parrish's work doesn't seem to be 'trash-like' in any way to me," and I stand by that. It frankly looks great. Perhaps that's enough for you to believe that I do disagree with Rand, but am afraid to say so? The difference, to me, lies in this: if I were at a cocktail party with Rand (or better, a dinner, because I don't really drink), and she said, "Parrish's work is trash," my response would not be, "you're wrong," but, "what do you mean?" I don't know how near or far we'd be at that point from my feeling justified in saying something like "you're wrong." It's just not where I'd start. It isn't where I am now. Does that make any sense?

So yeah, when I saw Loomis' ordering, I was able to guess a bit of his rationale. I think he's ultimately saying, not that his #1 is a better drawing than his #5, as such, but that in being less detailed (and typical of a younger artist), there is more hope for the artist of #1 to turn into someone who doesn't make #5. In other words, he likes (or dislikes) these for the same reasons, but inversely: the fewer details for him (or the more "essentialized"), the greater the potential for something better to eventually emerge than the kinds of details actualized in the "worse" drawings. After all, when he says of #5 that it "verges on those awful drawings in public places," what does he mean? Does he mean graffiti? Or museum art? Or closer to what I meant when I mentioned that the drawing reminded me of Peanuts art? Perhaps he judges it to be derivative? Or thinks that there's something lost in "essentials" when there is also hair and a dress and etc.? I dunno, but if Loomis were here and ready to discuss it, I'd sure like to argue it out!

Well isn't that fascinating?! I'm not sure that "differ significantly" quite captures the variance between his selections and my own; they appear to be perfectly inverted! It's enough to make me speculate on Loomis' reasoning (though I look forward to your next scan, which will present it). I wonder if he's concerned that some of these drawings indicate that the artist has "bought into" a particular aesthetic, which is perhaps bad (in his view) for a budding artist to do...? I dunno, but I'm plenty interested to see where it goes. Thanks for this exercise!

Hmm... I dunno. It seems to me that there are "overall evaluative judgments" and then there are "overall evaluative judgments." Can I attempt to explain? You and I are agreed that any individual's reaction to a given piece of art will include some "subjective" elements. I don't think that we approach art with a consciously-held checklist of "what constitutes good art," intellectually recognize what does or does not meet our criteria, and then emote consequently. I think we have a complex reaction based on the totality of who we are, including preferences on the order of 'chocolate or vanilla', and preferences based on our specific individual history, and then through analysis are able to understand key aspects of our reaction perhaps -- but not necessarily identify the totality. I think it would be a mistake to believe that rational people will assess a work of art in an identical fashion, or that they should. That said. I've written a handful of one act plays over my life. I don't mind telling you that they're not very good. If I were to imagine a rational person comparing my work to Shakespeare, I have to believe that they will consider my work inferior. Moreover, I believe that my work is inferior, markedly and obviously. (Though I have it in mind to improve; I'm comin' for you, Will!) While I can imagine that some given person might find my work appealing for some reason -- my mother thinks quite highly of it, for instance -- if anyone were to tell me that I'd outstripped Shakespeare, I wouldn't be pleased to hear it, but curious about the person who said so. So what am I saying? If someone were to attempt to explain their full reaction to Shakespeare's plays, or to my own, I would expect that their full judgment would rely, in part, upon certain individual preferences and truths that we're agreed are "subjective" in orientation, in that they are personal (though it remains true, speaking to what I believe to be Trebor's point, that their reactions aren't arbitrary; if they have a preference for vanilla over chocolate, that is objectively true of them). However, I think that we'd still be able to recognize as an objective truth that Shakespeare's plays are superior to my own -- that his are "good," and mine do not measure up. In terms of plot, character, language -- those things that apart from vanilla versus chocolate, and whether or not your father happened to be a Danish king, and therefore you hate (or love the more) Hamlet; those things that constitute the art of play writing -- his are just better. Aside from Rand's personal or prescribed methodology, I think it's an interesting question as to whether or not a person should try to be "as objective as possible when evaluating a work of art"... If I react strongly to something on the basis of my preference of vanilla to chocolate -- react in a way that I can't expect others to, necessarily -- am I doing something wrong? If I can't abide Hamlet because my dear old dad was similarly murdered by his brother, do I need to try to "see past" that, somehow? Or is it sufficient for me to try to understand the origin of my own reaction? Perhaps if I were to tell someone, "I hate Hamlet," I would need to asterisk it in some way (or maybe not?). And if I were to say that "Hamlet is bad," it would be important to provide some sort of disclosure if I thought that my personal history was a strong part of my judgment. But can I force myself to like Hamlet? Can I honestly say that "Hamlet is good" if I don't experience any of what I associate with "goodness" when I encounter it, in terms of my own reactions? If I take no pleasure from its plot, or characters, or etc? I don't know. If I were to encounter another, new work, and I dislike it immensely, but I try to ferret out the source of my own reactions and am unable -- let's say that according to "what I know" about objective measures of quality it "should work" -- what then? Do I say, "it's good... but I don't like it?" Do I leave open the possibility that there is some yet unknown (or un-understood) objective standard the work doesn't meet, which accounts for my reaction? Do I assume that there must be some subjective/personal component of myself at play? Obviously greater introspection and examination of the work would be in order. But upon what grounds, and at what point, would I be justified in coming to a conclusion as to the quality of the work? Would that conclusion be based on my intellectual/objective assessment in spite of my strong "gut reaction" to the contrary? Should it? I don't know, but in all cases I would be loathe to pronounce something "good" if I felt that way about it. (Or "bad" if I strongly enjoyed it.) Is that wrong of me? Okay, well, I obviously can't be Trebor for you. But I can say for myself that none of the work you linked out to looked like "trash" to me. Actually, that calls to mind that "documentary" brianleepainter linked out to, as I believe there was speculation on "works of art" thrown out with garbage, and what we'd immediately know to save, and what we wouldn't be able to identify as being different from the garbage. At any rate, Parrish's work doesn't seem to be "trash-like" in any way to me. (I feel much more confident in saying that, than in commenting on Capuletti and whether his is a "tour de force," etc. It's better than I could do, I know that.) That said (and although you may feel I'm playing some sort of game with this, but I swear I'm not), I don't know that I'm in a position to say that "Rand was wrong" on this subject. Because: I really don't know what she had in mind. I mean, suppose fifteen years ago I heard a quote from Rand that said something like "altruism is evil." Well! I surely would have thought something like "that's ridiculous!" But in that case I would have been making a mistake, because when I did eventually hear Rand's theory on the subject, and how she arrived at such a thing, it made perfect sense to me. I don't know why Rand considered that work to be "trash." And it may well be that if I did know what she had in mind, I would disagree with her. (Since I primarily "enjoy" dealing with those aspects of Objectivism which are unsettled for me, I think you'll already find from my other posts here that I've no fear of disagreeing with Rand, or anyone else.) But since I don't really know what was meant, I can only say that it doesn't look like "trash" to me, according to what I would mean by that term. It's a courtesy I would extend to you, too, in a similar situation.

Okay. Here are my (very untrained) assessments, in order of preference: A: My favorite of the bunch. I'm impressed with the hair, which doesn't overcomplicate but clearly suggests blond curls. As compared to the others there's a fair amount of detail. I like the nose and mouth, which I find expressive. The neck also seems well done in a cartoony sort of style. Reminds me somewhat of Peanuts. There's a "breeziness" to the style that I appreciate. C: Similarly detailed to A, though I don't find the details as engaging (expression is a little blank). I note a similarity between A and C in their posture, and it makes me wonder whether there was any kind of modelling, but I'm still interested in the choice to present a profile view like this. I like that there does seem to be choice of some kind on display. It's not just hair, but a partially balding man. He's not just smiling, but is smoking. Details aside, I guess I'm taken with just the fact of someone making decisions about what I'm supposed to be looking at. This isn't just a stick figure, but is a drawing of some person. There are buttons on the sleeves -- that comes from somewhere. And in terms of execution, it's at least as good as B, D, or E (or better), if not so good as A. Something "too careful" here, maybe. E: B and D have dots for eyes, but there are irises/pupils here. Okay. He's crosseyed... but maybe that was intended? And the ears are a little mismatched too... hmm maybe Alfred E. Neuman? Seems friendly enough -- he's smiling with his hand extended. Or maybe he's walking forward with one foot, like the ancient Kouroi? (I'll choose that interpretation over a mistake in leg size.) I get a sense of character here. Strange character, but something I can put into terms -- nutty, friendly, etc. B: Nearly as good as E, though less detailed. There's a sense of movement. The sectioning of the body recognizes a bit of truth among chest/belly/hips, and he alone has functioning knees. The nose is distinctive and abstract in a pleasing way, and the simple smile conveys gentle contentment. It's nothing I'd hang on my refrigerator (unless it was my own kid, of course), but there's nothing wrong with it either. D: My least favorite. While most of the other drawings suffer from shared "defects" with this one, this one seems to have them all and a few more too. There's something shaky and unfocused about it; it lacks confidence, perhaps. While the legs are rendered like B, the lines don't seem as neat or as meaningful. There's no articulation to the body outside of fingers, and we might be one shy of those on the left hand. No neck. No clothes. And yes, there's a smile, but I don't feel much from it -- no "character." I'll be interested in what the experts have to say! Having looked at the links you've provided, I must say that I like all of it. Of course, you've seen what I've done with kids' drawings, so you know what my assessments are worth! But apart from the simple observation that "liking these works is objectively true of me," does anyone wish to suggest that I'm wrong, or have a defective sense of life, or anything like that, on the basis of finding none of that artwork "trash"? Just curious. Okay, so I'm curious: Are you arguing then that there is no possible standard by which artworks like these can be objectively measured? Or are you saying that Ayn Rand's standard (or perhaps her application of it) was obviously flawed, because she erred in her judgement of Parrish and Capuletti? If you're saying the first... how could you demonstrate that by appealing to other peoples' opinions of these artworks? Aren't you relying on them -- or Trebor specifically -- to agree with you that Parrish is obviously not trash, as you say? Doesn't that seem to rely on some sort of objective standard for measuring such things?

Your reading of the scene is that Dominique is acting in a wishy-washy manner? She fights "like an animal." I don't think these actions could be presented in any other scene or context and we'd find them "wishy-washy." We're talking about Dominique's having "found joy in her revulsion," as opposed to "an answer of simple revulsion"? Is this her display of "very strong support of the whole ordeal"? If so, I'll reiterate that this is the description of her reaction to the sex. It's not clear (to me, at any rate) that this was under her conscious control, and thus I don't believe it's proper to characterize this as her having "supported" the sex. Are you able to select your precise mixture of emotional reactions to an event? Especially something frenetic and immediate and violent, like the scene we're discussing? That quote reads that she'd found "joy in her revulsion, in her terror and in his strength." I take that as true. But note the construction -- she found this. It was something she learned about herself, of her terror, of Roark's strength (read: dominance). She hadn't known it before. She hadn't chosen it. But she discovered it. Actually, I think this is an argument I've rejected a number of times, so if we're actually disagreed on this point, I would like that to be clear. Here's my stance: whether Dominique enjoyed the sex or not has no bearing on whether or not she had consented to it. If a woman is raped and yet experiences pleasure, that does not change the fact of rape. Do you disagree? I wasn't suggesting that she should be. Only that if your understanding of the scene were true -- if Dominique were consciously conflicted over whether she wanted Roark -- the scene would read much differently. Instead, Dominique's actions say clearly (again, to me) that she has consciously decided against having sex with Roark, whatever her repressed/rejected/subconscious/deepdown/feminine desires might be. I appreciate your position and your patience in explaining it, but I disagree that this is the scene we're discussing. We may be at simple loggerheads here, because I just don't see it the same way (and don't really know how to convince you otherwise ). This scene just does not read to me at all with the character you're suggesting. It does not seem to me like Dominique just won an awesome car, but is conflicted with her "better judgment." Even in ultimately concluding that this was an ideal masculine/feminine thing (which I'm glad to believe that we both find wrongheaded), McElroy "concedes" that this reads like a rape. And I think that's where we have to start, because it is on that basis that this conversation exists at all. After all, we're privvy to Dominique's internal state, which reads at times like this: "...she felt the blood beating in her throat, in her eyes, the hatred, the helpless terror in her blood." She's feeling "hatred" and "terror" ("helpless terror" to be precise, to emphasize that events are out of her control; which is choice; which is consent). Your scenario, where the person is loving the "seductively evil sunroof" and half-heartedly trying to argue themselves out of it does not evince such hatred or terror, or the seemingly passionate and earnest attempts of Dominique to prevent the thing from happening at all. But even if your scenario captured all that, there'd be the central issue of consent to engage in the act in the first place, which is the question of rape, and I don't think your scenario speaks to that, either. We're not discussing Dominique's refusal or acceptance of Roark after having taken a "test ride" -- again, this is not about whether she enjoyed it; we're talking about her taking or not taking that ride to begin with, prior to noting the sunroof, etc. There's nothing during the sex itself that reads to me like Dominique is thinking "lets not be too hasty now, we can take it for a test ride first and do some more research." You know when I think she starts to think like that? Afterwards. In the mirror. (Not precisely, of course, but I think it's closer in meaning.) So we have it for the thousandth time , here's the quote: So... these stark, clear statements... you think are neither a narrative pronouncement, nor reflective of Dominique's "true" beliefs? You think it says that "[Roark] did it as an act of scorn" and "defilement," but that nobody "really believes" that to be true? This puts me at an utter loss, because it seems to me like we're literally throwing out "evidence" which doesn't coincide with your interpretation of these events. That "evidence" being: the text. But of course my case is based on the text, so I don't know where to argue from without it (or even that I should). If I can't take it as true that "[h]e did it as an act of scorn," then I concede, on this basis: if things happened as described in the scene, then Roark raped Dominique. If things did not actually happen that way (e.g., it says that it was "defilement," but it was not), then it is inconclusive, and Roark may not have raped her. (Though I think in that case the text would be equally incapable of establishing that with any certainty. Maybe when it says that "simple revulsion" would have "saved" her -- why "saved" again? who needs "saving" against consensual, wanted sex? -- maybe that's just confused Dominique's opinion and completely untrue.) You know, a few posts back I referred to mismatched jigsaw puzzle pieces. Honestly (and I hope this doesn't come across as offensive, because that's not how I intend it, but I know it might sound that way), I think you're ditching the puzzle pieces that don't fit the picture you'd like to see. Which I can understand, as a puzzle with mismatched pieces is awfully frustrating, but not support. This sex was defiling. Even if the narrator doesn't think so (but I think she does), Dominique must at least. However we ultimately view this, we must take that into proper account. And your account -- that this is reflective of things that Dominique "tells herself," but have no truth otherwise -- does not match either the tenor or the language of the actual quote on the page. We can recognize that the place she's trying to "push them back" to is the subconscious, right? (Or rather, she's hoping to push them into oblivion, but that's precisely what she can't do.) And the "foreground" to which "they keep popping back" is her consciousness, in the form of emotion, and possibly snatches of thought. And "not very successfully"? She's successful enough to provide a "facade of a rape," which I believe was your language. The person in your car-test-drive example was not very successful in talking themselves out of their interest in the car; Dominique has her elbows to Roark's throat, seeks to run past him and out of the room, tries to snatch up a weapon to use against him, and experiences terror and hatred. If desire to have sex with Roark represents those desires against which Dominique was fighting, I'd say she did a pretty good job of pushing them away -- sufficiently so as to "appear" not to want it to happen at all. And by "appear" I don't just mean in terms of action, but in terms of emotional experience as well. Remember, if there was "joy in her revulsion," there was still "revulsion." So I'd say she was fairly convincing. (For instance, if the scene had been written with the tenor with which you'd presented your car's test ride, I wouldn't be here arguing this. It's not that I can't understand a person's faux, half-hearted resistance against something they know they actually want; it's that this isn't what that is.) Well... I know I promised that I wasn't a feminist and all, but I think it bears saying in this discussion that if a woman is "being dodgy" about whether or not she wants to have sex, that may suck, but it's still well within the realm of her rights and consent. "Being dodgy" is still something a person can choose, albeit not necessarily something they should choose, and they should remain free from force as they make up their mind. But now I'm arguing against rape (which I'd otherwise hope was a given), but more central to our discussion is that this elides over the central question. Roark does not merely "show up for sex," you know? He forces Dominique onto the bed and wrenches her arms behind her and prevents her from running away. It's not detailed, but I imagine that she struggles unsuccessfully to keep her legs together, too. I mean, you're right that Roark's actions force Dominique into "something more decisive," and sure enough her actions seem to follow suit. She tries to fend him off. Seems decisive. It's just that her decision carries no weight in the face of Roark's force. If your suggestion is that, had he asked her -- which means to appeal to her mind -- she would have dithered and not acquiesced... then... doesn't that demonstrate Roark's need to force this on Dominique, to make this happen? He couldn't approach her as a trader. Reason wouldn't have worked. It had to be force (for Dominique's own good). And in the context of sex -- and as clearly demonstrated in this scene -- force is rape. Well... one can't have conscious awareness, true; that's what it means to know something consciously. I don't know how detailed we can be about the conscious versus the subconscious -- I don't know how well I understand it, myself. But if we're considering something like denial, or evasion, there must be some level upon which a person recognizes the thing that they're denying or evading in order to know to deny it or evade it. Is a person therefore aware of that which they deny or evade? I don't think in the same sense, i.e. consciously; I fear we may be equivocating. And as for feelings, it's one thing to experience a feeling and be "aware" of it in that sense, and it's another to know what that feeling signifies or means or portends. I may experience disquiet in a certain situation, but not know why. It's possibly reflective of some kind of subconscious understanding that I have -- and I can examine my feeling via introspection (with more or less success, depending on a host of factors) -- but that I experience the feeling doesn't carry with it the automatic knowledge of everything the feeling means for me, or of me. I submit that Dominique was experiencing a complex blend of emotions, the sum of which she herself did not understand (when we say that "Dominique was confused," this is a lot of what I mean by it). I'm not sure that "desire" is mentioned by name in the sex scene, though I've noted that terror and hatred are. So whatever "desire" existed, it was not unvarnished, nor did it appear to be her overriding experience. But let's say that "desire" was there, too; I don't think that this means that Dominique had any clear or conscious understanding of what her emotions meant, or their precise origins, or etc. I don't believe she had a conscious awareness of wanting Roark, and especially not in that manner, at that time. It does not read like she did. I think that things became clearer for her in the mirror, if not altogether clear. I'm not honestly sure whether it's possible to will away hunger or exhaustion from one's conscious awareness... but I suspect it might be possible to some degree. You think that's not so? Beyond the issue of "conscious desire" (where "awareness of desire," which I dunno that I concede, also means knowledge of that for what one desires; confused people are confused for a reason), suppose there exists a person who is hungry. More than that, they are hungry for chocolate cake. But they are consciously conflicted, and think that to eat the cake will make them fat, so they have decided that they will not eat a particular piece of cake. Suppose you think their reasoning nonsense, and like your example of the person who won the car, you think that they should be made to eat the cake, because when they do, they will love it! So you pinch their nose so that they must open their mouth to breathe, then you take a big slice of cake and cram it down their throat. Is this a display of force, or is it otherwise because we can say that "the cake-desirer desired cake" (which seems obvious enough)? What is the relationship of your actions to the cake-desirer's choice, or consent? Does having a "desire" for a thing mean that that thing cannot be forced upon you, and against your consent? Further, on the issue of consent and desire it seems like we're dropping the idea that "Dominique is confused." We're now supposing that she knew exactly what she wanted, and (in terms of consent) chose to have this sex with Roark. She also chose to put up a pretense of fighting against it... for some reason. (To trick herself into thinking she wasn't attracted to Roark... although we're supposing that her "decision" to have sex with Roark was predicated upon her conscious awarness of her own desire, and decision for him...? So she's consciously lying to herself and consciously aware of the truth? Huh?) So she's confused when "she thinks of it" as defilement. She's confused when she considers it rape. But she's not confused about her clear desire for Roark, though that desire is represented in the text as terror and hatred. It seems as though Dominique is "confused" when it's convenient for this particular interpretation, but not confused otherwise. Is it going too far to suggest that we seek to eat our chocolate cake (or have it crammed down our throats) and have it, too? You're underselling it. Prior to this insight, Dominique experienced an "unbearable need" for the bath. Unless the narrative is wrong again. But I don't think the narrative is wrong. She experiences that need, and then it changes, through her epiphany, into a desire to remain unbathed, to keep the feeling of Roark with her. This seems signifcant. And it has "implications." I think it can only be a recognition of things which had been present, but subconscious. Not recognized, not named. Things that Dominique had been consciously unaware of, prior to Roark's actions... and actually, prior to this epiphany. (Which is fitting, since that's sort of what "epiphany" is all about.) It's not just a decision against bathing. It's a significant shift. But doesn't the very idea of "catching herself in her lie" lend credence to the idea that this truth against which she'd been struggling had been subconscious? Or if you're suggesting that she'd been "lying to herself," but that it had been done with simultaneous conscious awareness of the fact of lying...? I just don't understand that. I'm resigned to the idea that no interpretation will explain everything, unfortunately, and I attribute that fact to a belief in masculinity/femininity which implies a display of dominance and submission that I believe ultimately runs roughshod over individual consent. In other words, I think there's an inconsistency on display. But Dominique still does not consent, so far as I can tell, and so I still categorize this as rape, which I also think explains far more (and raises far fewer unanswerable questions) than the idea of consensual sex. But perhaps we must agree to disagree on this point. For myself, I thank you for expressing your position so fully as you have, and I hope that my efforts to do likewise have been useful (or at least interesting ).

To the second quote first, of course I'll hold off. To the first quote second, of course I'm willing to share my "reasoning." Just let me know.

All right. If the conflict were on the conscious level, I'd personally expect more ambivalence in her actions.... When people are confused in that sense -- warring with themselves, consciously, over whether they want to do something or not -- I find that usually they don't take strong action in any way. Or maybe that's wrong on my part? But that's how I'd see that. Imagine, for instance, a woman approached sexually who neither responds with passion nor seeks to get away, but simply permits the activity, looking uncertain, hesitant. I would read that as a portrait of a woman with a conscious conflict over whether or not to have sex. (And on the issue of consent, I'd say that it would be sufficient to press one's seduction, provided the woman doesn't take a clearer stand against, by retreating or pushing away or similar.) Dominique, by contrast, takes very strong action, ostensibly to terminate her encounter with Roark, or at least prevent their having sex. To me, that indicates that her conscious choice is on the one side, anti-, though we're agreed that there is another force which is pro-, which I believe is largely subconscious. We also cannot dismiss her feelings, as they're relayed to us, which include terror and hatred. Finally, even if it's "only" defilement to her (and I do not agree that this is so -- I believe that it is defilement, by narrative fiat), that's also meaningful. Since we've agreed that defilement and et cetera signify rape, as opposed to consensual rough sex, it indicates that at the least Dominique considers this particular sex to be rape (a conclusion she keeps even after she decides that she enjoyed it). Hmmm... I dunno how "far" she is from success -- apparently it takes a rape to break through, which strikes me as extreme therapy (Howard Roark, therapist... Howard Roark, the rapist! My best argument yet?! ) -- but I agree that she's pushing things out of her conscious mind. To employ jargon I probably would best avoid, she's "repressing." And as I understand it, those things which are pushed from our conscious mind don't simply disappear, but they form part of our subconscious mind... which is, to be honest, what I think I've been saying. But yeah, you're right: she's "trying" to do this. That's the choice she's made, and part of that effort is pushing Roark away. Is it a healthy choice? Perhaps not. But it's the choice she's made. And can she be 100% completely successful? No, I don't believe we can be completely successful in denying reality (which is another way of looking at this). I think that repression, or evasion, or whatever psychological misfortune we believe we're looking at, isn't healthy, and will potentially lead a person to Dominique-level confusions or similar psychological malady. And here's where we disagree. Even though I agree that Dominique isn't -- and cannot be -- completely successful in denying her subconscious desires here, I do not agree that she is "physically struggling against him and consenting." I don't think she's consenting. (By the way, can we at least put to bed the interpretation that others have -- including McElroy -- that Dominique's physical actions are no more than her participating in "rough sex"? As in, "Dominique is into rough sex, and Roark knew to give it to her"?) Something I've brought up a few times, but been unable to draw conversation about, has been the infamous "take a bath sequence." We all know that Dominique decides not to take a bath, which some have construed as being strong evidence against rape... and yet immediately prior to that, Dominique felt an "unbearable" need to bathe, almost as though she'd just been raped. And between those two opposite stances, Dominique appears to have an epiphany: We're left to infer the nature of that epiphany, somewhat. We know that now she doesn't want to bathe, but that also has "implications" for her. And those implications...? I'd suggest that this is part of the "forcing open of her eyes," to which EC had referred. It's her starting to come to understand the nature of the subconscious desires which she had been repressing. It's her coming to terms with the fact that, although she had not wanted to have sex with Roark and had actively tried to prevent it, she still enjoyed it. And beyond mere physical pleasure, it answered a "want" which had been "deeper down" than that which she had been heretofore aware of consciously. Hmm... I see where you're coming from, and I agree that this is one sense in which we could discuss "submission." After all, since we're talking about sex generally, that's what we typically mean by "sub/dom"; the "submissive" partner is no less willing than the "dominant." On the other hand, there is also "submission" in the face of force. It is ultimately compliant in some ways, true, but not consensual. For instance, if a police officer aims his weapon at you, you may well "submit" to his authority. In mixed martial arts, if someone has your arm twisted behind your back, you are encouraged to "submit." In looking up "submission" at Merriam-Webster, I found this example sentence: "The prisoners were beaten into submission." When we "submit" to something, it is not necessarily indicative of our will free from force. For instance, consider again the passage we've been poring over. I'll end it on... the word "submit": I submit (heh -- a third sense!) this as "romantic submission" in the sense of the ideal of femininity, in the face of Roark's masculine "romantic dominance." Specifically he uses force -- as a soldier would when violating (which means: raping; which means: forcing) an enemy woman -- and she submits to it. Her breakthrough in the mirror? Is her recognition that a true woman responds in a certain way to a true man, of their natures. The man dominates her, and she submits. The man penetrates, the woman is penetrated. He does, and she is done to. The joy she takes during their non-consensual sex? Read it again: Note how it is "what he had wanted her to know." I think this scene is inextricable from Rand's conception of sexuality, which is bound up in her ideas of the feminine and the masculine. The man takes. And in taking, gives the woman what she "wants." (In this case whether she realizes that she wants it or not. ) Consider Trebor's earlier (though since disavowed) metaphor of lions. It is true of the way that beasts mate that the man simply takes. Consider how Rand described this scene, even as she was saying that this wasn't rape: Had this seduction come from Dominique at all -- had she initiated it, even weakly through mere consenting such that Roark could understand it -- it wouldn't have the relationship of masculine-to-feminine that I believe Rand saw as ideal. For Roark to have full "responsibility," Dominique couldn't have initially wanted it. She had to be made to enjoy it. She had to have her eyes and (if you'll forgive my crudeness) other body parts forced open. It was a physical contest, a struggle of force, and Roark -- as the man -- won out. He dominated and she was made to submit. As it "should be." I'll look forward to it.

You'll get no argument from me on that score. I'm open to whatever you have to say, and I appreciate your taking the time to find the best way to communicate what you have in mind. Hmm... I may have to let the idea of an "unreliable narrator" go, because I don't think I've accurately conveyed what I mean. And... I don't know ultimately how relevant it will prove. Suffice it to say, there's a difference between an "unreliable author" and an "unreliable narrator." If the narrator is giving us an accurate reporting of things as they appear to Dominique, and if Dominique is "unreliable" (in that she doesn't see/understand things as they actually are), then that is precisely what I mean by an "unreliable narrator." Please note that there's also a difference between a reporting of things "as they appear to Dominique" and a reporting of "how things appear to Dominique." To exemplify what I mean by this seemingly picky distinction, consider the difference between the following: "Dominique looked at Roark. He was angry." "It appeared to Dominique that Roark was angry." The first quote could be Dominique's point of view, or it could be a distinct narrative voice. Traditionally, a narrator who isn't also a character is never unreliable (though I've seen at least one case where there was an unreliable omniscient third narrator). So if it is an omniscient third person narrator, when it says that "[Roark] was angry," we may believe this without question -- and in fact must do so, if we wish to understand the narrative. If it's third person, but Dominique's point of view (and this is a possibility), then "[Roark] was angry" might be right or wrong. It depends on Dominique, and whether we trust her judgement. If she's confused -- and our girl is always confused -- then we cannot trust what we're being told. Roark might actually be happy. In that way, it would be an "unreliable narrative." With the second sentence, however, we may again believe what we're being told. While we may ultimately agree or disagree with Dominique's assessment, the narrator is truthful and reliable. And I believe that the scene we've been dissecting is an example of this second type of sentence. (As well as the first type of sentence, but from a narrative voice not Dominique's.) I believe we can trust the narrator. But I said I was letting this go, right...? Heh. I have the hardest time letting things go... Okay, let's agree on this. Because I do agree with you -- I believe that Dominique is actively trying to avoid understand certain things about her own nature, and how she responds to Roark, and etc. But do we also agree that the question of rape comes down to a question of consent? Because I think that Dominique's desires for Roark are operating on a subconscious level, and that consciously she's pushing him away (which gets translated into actual, physical shoves). I think that Roark forcing himself onto Dominique simultaneously forces her into awareness of her own situation, or as EC said earlier: The difference (I believe) between EC and myself is that he concludes that, "therefore this is not rape." And I don't agree with that. I think that forcing this awakening on her via sex is the very thing which makes it rape. Rape for the best, in this case. Healing, soothing, medicinal rape. Rape in service of a metaphorical or thematic purpose, perhaps. But still rape, because her conscious will is to repress her desire for him, reject him sexually, and thereby she withholds her consent. I think that explains her struggles to fight him off and get away, not that she was just engaging in "rough sex foreplay." I'm still new here (though I apparently signed up a decade ago, I somehow never participated until recently)... so I don't know who thinks what quite yet. But I'm learning... I understand what you're saying. I think that the description I'd provided earlier, equating masculinity to "romantic dominance" and femininity to "romantic surrender" seems so descriptive of this scene, however, that I just can't see them as unrelated. And when I ask myself, "why would a sex scene that 'looks so much like rape' be desirable at all?" I find that this view of masculinity/femininity provides a possible answer. Doesn't mean that we *need* to talk about it, you and I, but that's why I find it relevant. Color me interested. Send whatever you feel comfortable sharing. No worries. I've taken to writing enough in these forums lately as to satisfy anyone's cravings for what I have to say.

Don't mean to intrude too much. My knowledge of these topics is miniscule -- I don't know who Parrish or Capuletti are, for instance. (Should I?) But the topic of agreeing with another person or disagreeing with them -- Rand, in this case -- interests me generally. On one hand, I agree with what you're saying, Jonathan. Certainly a person should make up his own mind about everything, and it ultimately shouldn't matter at all what others believe. On the other hand, Trebor's position also seems right. If someone I respected offered an opinion that didn't immediately make sense to me -- we could say that it "baffles" me -- I should like to hear their reasoning before making any pronouncements on whether they were right or wrong. Where mathematics are concerned, like 2+2=17, it shouldn't be too much work to get to the bottom of things. They were making a joke? Using some funky base? Remember that the context is "someone I respect," so I want to understand what actual meaning they intend to convey. Of course, if I conclude that they mean what we normally do with respect to simple addition, I'll have no problem voicing my equally simple disagreement. At that point I may have to start wondering how they've come to such a lousy conclusion... But art -- we're still talking about art, right? -- whatever its subjective or objective components, is a far richer subject. I can't imagine simply dismissing someone's opinions out of hand on the basis of a statement like "so and so is trash," without trying to understand their actual meaning, let alone the opinions of someone I respect. Again, once I believe I understand their meaning, I won't have any problems voicing my disagreement should it persist. Ayn Rand has no special favors in this regard, and I'm sure that Trebor wouldn't accord her any either. I guess my motto in these sorts of cases would be something like "seek first to understand." Uhm... I'm gonna guess that dress and pipe are the head of the class, buttons and top-center still have possibilities, and the remaining one "verges on awful," though I can't imagine judging any child's art like that. So you'll have to tell me sometime... do I have a future as a fine art critic?

Oh -- I wanted to say a little more on the subject of an "unreliable narrator." The specific passage we're discussing is the description of the act of sex. As a reader, we're using it to picture what's taking place in the scene. Just for a moment, I'd like you to visualize two possible descriptions of a scene of sex. The first reads as follows: "As a soldier violating an enemy woman..." The second is: "As a soldier reuniting with his beloved, having come home from overseas..." As you picture this lovemaking (though only the second can really be described that way), tell me: do you "see" them differently? I'll imagine that you do. That even though they both describe sex, it isn't -- cannot be -- the same sex, in terms of physical actions, facial expressions, etc. When we are told of Roark that, "He did it as an act of scorn. Not as love, but as defilement," this helps us to visualize the action taking place. This is one of the ways in which we "rely" on the specific narration we're given. However, if we agree that this language is Dominique's, and not necessarily "true" (mostly because "Dominique is confused") -- that Roark may have "done it" as an act of love -- then we're not quite sure how to picture it. Our knowledge of the scene is perhaps just reduced to factual matters: well, we know he thrust his hips, and that's about it. And in this way we would regard the narrator as "unreliable." Consider: the narration here could read, "Roark raped Dominique," and yet bluecherry's opinion of the scene -- that it is not rape -- may stand unaltered, because he could judge the term "rape" to be reflective of Dominique's point of view, and not necessarily "true" of the scene. If the narrative tells us that one character rapes another (and I think that the language of this scene actually does just that), but we don't believe that's true, then that's another way we can view the narrator as unreliable. It's occurred to me that you might not be reacting to the same thing I'm reacting to, here. When I talk about "a matter-of-fact pronouncement of 'the way things are,'" I don't mean "unbiased," exactly. I don't mean a "camera lens" style of narration, which doesn't offer any evaluation or commentary. Instead it is "biased"... according to the narrator's point of view, which is often all-knowing within the context of the fiction. The question is, when the narrator describes the sex as "an act of scorn," can we trust that this is true? Or are we led to question whether in fact Roark "did it as an act of scorn" at all?

I'm totally willing to entertain an argument that the language we're talking about, like contempt, humiliation, and defilement could be reflective of Dominique's point-of-view. But I think that there must ultimately be *some* reading of the scene, and I've hopefully given fair reasons for why I've read it the way that I have. In the last analysis, someone thinks of these acts in those terms. And even if it's just Dominique, that's still important, in my opinion, because she was the one empowered to give, or withhold, her own consent.

In some ways this might take us off topic -- I don't want to do an exhaustive survey of sex in Rand's fiction, and I imagine that you don't either -- but could it be that this violent sort of sex is indicative of the initial "conquest"? Meaning that: once won/broken, a woman doesn't necessarily have to be "taken" in the same way again? (This pattern is typical of some of the rape erotica I've taken to referring to repeatedly... maybe I should get around to actually reading some of that stuff, so that I can incorporate that into my eventual dissertation on this subject. ) In suggesting that the narrative is colored by Dominique's views, representing that this which is actually a response to rational values -- and one of life's joys, as we've agreed -- in consensual sex as "defilement," I believe you're proposing an unreliable narrator. We literally cannot trust what we're being told. Here's why I prefer my reading to yours: Consider the language of the original quote, how precise and formal it is. How distanced from the actual action it represents. Whether we're witnessing rape or the "facade of rape," I wouldn't ascribe to Dominique's views anything so cool as "It was an act that could be performed in tenderness, as a seal of love, or in contempt, as a symbol of humiliation and conquest." I do not believe that Dominique is giving herself over to such reflection at that moment. And later, keeping that same voice, the narrator clearly states what Dominique thinks and feels: "she knew that she had given that to him..."; "Then she understood that she was shaking"; "She thought she must take a bath"; "The need was unbearable, as if she had felt it for a long time." No. This continues to read to me as a matter-of-fact pronouncement of "the way things are," and I think that there are clear lines between Dominique's thoughts and feelings and the narrative assessment of the situation. It is an act of scorn. It is defilement. We can trust that as much as that Roark is a ginger. But okay. Suppose for the moment that your reading is the correct one. That this is actually great, consensual sex (if not "ideal") -- not an act of defilement, but an act of love; not the act of a soldier violating an enemy woman, but the act of a soldier coming home from overseas and reuniting with his beloved -- and Dominique just somehow doesn't realize it, because that's how screwed up she is. Well, what does her being wrong on that count get us? It means she misreads Roark's intentions, perhaps. But if she thinks it's scornful and defiling like rape, and acts as though it were rape, trying to fight him off, trying to get away, then... isn't that evidence that she has not consented? I mean, I've seen it suggested in this thread that Dominique is wrong about a great many things. Can she be wrong about the fact of her own consent, and whether she's granted it? Is that how delusional she is? (At what point do we start to wonder about Roark's attraction to Dominique...?) Lol. I know what you mean about "bizarre implications." It is hard to reconcile ideal masculine/feminine pairings (as McElroy suggested in her essay) with scornful, humiliating, defiling sex, which is "like rape," yet somehow not rape, which is like a soldier violating an enemy woman, yet "by engraved invitation," which is terrorizing and hate-filled, yet joyful and "ecstatic." This is why I said earlier that I feel like I have mismatched jigsaw puzzle pieces. I know that this is my interpretation and not yours (and possibly no one else's), but I think that this really does stem from a fundamental inconsistency in Rand's thought -- the same place from which she apparently concluded that homosexuality was immoral and that a rational woman would not seek the Presidency. In poking around on those topics, I came across this: And yeah, I can see how the ultimate expression of that might be precisely rape. It doesn't make The Fountainhead's pieces fit -- that's the nature of an inconsistency, after all -- but it at least helps me to understand why they're ill-matched. I don't think she was being sloppy either. I think that evoking "violation" and "rapture" and such was quite intentional. I think that those words, along with the general description of the event, and well before Dominique ever uses the word "rape" at all, is all meant to put us fully in the mind of a rape. Well that's exciting! Far more than analyzing other peoples' art -- though that's great fun -- I love trying to create it, and for my friends to create it too. I'd love to read something sometime, if you were ever of a mind to share...

(Part II) *** Anyways, we’re getting to the demonstration of Dominique’s consent. Here it comes: Uh-oh. This is the “clear indication” that Dominique consented? That she thinks to herself “I’ve been raped,” and feels humiliated? No, that’s not what McElroy means. She means that Dominique felt “pleasure,” and that she “thinks of the act in exalted terms,” though in what sense humiliation and defilement (which McElroy has also referenced, though unquoted by me) are properly considered “exalted,” I’m not quite certain. In any event, this is all wrong. We do not determine whether Dominique consented to have sex according to whether she felt pleasure during the act, or whether she takes pleasure in considering the fact of her rape. We determine it alone by whether Dominique chose to engage in sex, or was instead forced to have sex. So if this is McElroy’s case, then it’s DOA. Ah wait, there’s more. Here is the better argument: However, we must be careful again on the issue of “consent,” which was supposedly what we were going to be shown. If a person does not do everything within their power to prevent a thing, does that mean that they have consented to it? For instance, suppose a robber comes into my home and takes some possessions, then seeks to flee. I have a gun. I can prevent him from leaving with my things if I shoot him, but I opt not to shoot him. Does this mean that I have consented to the robbery? (Or, more accurately, that it “wasn’t robbery” at all?) Dominique also didn’t call for help. And in real life this sometimes happens, let alone in fictional works. Dominique did not do everything in her power to prevent the rape, yet I contend that she did enough to convey a clear lack of consent, which is really the only issue. Was she prevented from doing “everything in her power,” accounting perhaps to some sort of internal conflict due to a “subtle desire”? Perhaps. But “subtle desire” is not consent, which is a choice. Beyond that, and relevant to McElroy’s specific argument, I do not believe that the quote provided indicates that “Dominique could have ended the act at any moment.” It says that Dominique “had not” given the answer that would have saved her, but it doesn’t indicate that she could have given that “answer,” in terms of making a conscious choice. The context is Dominique’s emotional reaction to the event, which may not have strictly been under her control. “Simple revulsion” would have done it, apparently (as opposed to the terror and hatred described in the scene itself). Dominique did feel revulsion, of course, but it wasn’t “simple,” for “she had found joy in her revulsion.” This may refer to physical pleasure, or to an emotional joy, or both, but that’s ultimately inconsequential, as it’s not reflective of Dominique’s choosing to have or not have sex, but her non-chosen emotional and/or physical responses to the act. It’s like saying, if I rape a woman and she reaches orgasm -- perhaps a little “joy” mixed in with her revulsion -- then it’s now somehow not rape. But again: that’s not what makes rape, rape. The issue isn’t one of pleasure, either physical or emotional, during or after the deed, but force versus choice -- it is an issue of consent. And by the by... "saved her"? What in the world would Dominique possibly have needed any "saving" from? Finally, I think it’s interesting that both of these “arguments” -- Dominique’s “exalted” memories -- take place after the sex scene itself, and specifically after Dominique’s epiphany while looking at herself in the mirror. Dominique continues to view the act as rape -- she has no illusions that she has retroactively somehow managed to consent to the sex, and knows that it was forced upon her -- but she is also cognizant that she enjoyed the experience. I see no real dilemma. She was raped and she enjoyed it, just like in probably hundreds of thousands of rape erotica stories online. As an (almost) aside, note the change in McElroy’s language here. Now we’re no longer dealing with “almost invisible” consent with an “aura of rape,” as before, but “clear consent to rough sex.” It is at times like these that I almost manage to feel the scorn for McElroy that Roark felt for Dominique. Strangely, that doesn't inspire me to intimacy... nor do I even wish to violate her like an soldier would an enemy woman. And again we’re back to “rough sex” as the supposed feminist bugbear. And while I have no idea (nor care) who Brownmiller is, I’m not certain that McElroy has quite tackled the notion of Dominique’s interest in humiliation, or whether that’s masochistic, or whether it fits in at all with her conception of what supposedly took place during this “consensual rough sex.” Whether my personal experiences matter or no to anyone else’s reckoning, I’ll report that I’ve managed to have rough sex without either feeling humiliated or (so far as I can tell) humiliating my partner. Perhaps I’m not doing it right...? And now, seemingly as a bone for me (though I'm not a woman either... sigh), there’s this: It’s not a desire for “tenderness and cuddling,” either in real life or in my fiction, and it’s not contra “romantic realism,” or in praise of “naturalism,” that I consider this sex to be rape. It’s in the face of Dominique’s clear rejection of Roark, and subsequently being forced to have sex -- that and that alone. I agree that this was (in part) Rand’s intention, but not that it was, or is, ideal. I disagree that this was what was demonstrated in The Fountainhead’s scene. I think that it was a contest, not of wills, but of physical force. Had Dominique been physically stronger, she would have succeeded in breaking free from Roark and running away. Perhaps she would have broken the lamp over his head. The essay continues after that, on matters I don’t find strictly relevant. If there are any important matters I’ve glossed over, I would be happy to address them if anyone wishes to raise them here. In any event, I don’t think that this essay succeeds at demonstrating what it intended to demonstrate. I don’t think it established that Dominique consented to have sex with Roark. Instead, McElroy talks about issues of Dominique’s pleasure and joyful reminiscing after the fact, which are relevant to many things, but not to the simple question of consent. Can we infer that, if a woman takes pleasure in sex, that therefore she must have consented to it? I don’t believe we can, and it’s doubly problematic in fiction where fictional rape victims take fictional pleasure in their fictional rapes all of the time. Otherwise, McElroy tried to dissect the psychological motives behind those feminists who supposedly conclude that any violent sex is rape, which doesn’t speak at all to me or to my motivations.

Hi EC, I appreciate the link. I've written a little bit of response to McElroy's essay, though not the full treatment of this debate that I'd really like to write... I just don't know when I'll have the time to make it a priority, at the moment. So I'm going to put what thoughts I have here for further dissection, should anyone find that interesting. They're not particularly focused, but I've decided to leave it "rough" rather than let it languish altogether. It's long, and will have to be broken into two parts. So, apologies for that, but what can I do? (Write less, I know. ) *** I have a problem with Wendy McElroy’s basic approach to the particular scene under discussion. I think that largely what she does is argue that certain sex scenes in Atlas Shrugged are violent-but-not-rape, therefore this is paradigmatic of Ayn Rand (an induction), and then argue deductively that The Fountainhead scene, as an “Ayn Rand sex scene,” is violent-but-not-rape. I believe that this same sort of reasoning is also reflected in (sometimes implicit) points-of-view such as, “Howard Roark is an ideal man; therefore, he would not violate another’s rights in this way.” Or more generally that, “Ayn Rand would never portray a rape as being heroic or good.” However, I do not think that this sort of thing can be argued in this deductive manner, nor is it necessary. After all, we have the sex scene itself for consideration. It is its own data point, and must be judged on its own merits and details; we cannot instead massage it into the shape we think it ought to be. So, in approaching McElroy’s essay, I will largely disregard that which concerns Atlas Shrugged as it relates to the question of whether Roark raped Dominique -- because frankly, I do not believe it helps us answer that question at all. I will engage her analysis, however, as it relates to certain broader philosophical themes which might underlay Rand’s decision to present a rape at all. Now I’ll proceed through the essay. McElroy begins: Immediately I’m put on guard, as McElroy is responding to “modern feminism.” I do not consider myself a “feminist,” as such, and I’m sure that I don’t share the traits and beliefs that McElroy associates with one. What’s more, I have not dismissed Rand, but have embraced her. Yet, I do believe that The Fountainhead scene in question is a scene of rape. So I am not certain that my analysis can be labeled (and subsequently dismissed) as “feminist criticism.” McElroy then uses material from The Fountainhead to show how “feminists” might reach this conclusion: And yes, that material is telling. But it does not present the case in full, and I find McElroy’s soft playing of the scene also telling. It does not relate, for instance, Dominique’s terror, or that she tries to use a weapon against Roark, or that she seeks -- not just a brief physical respite in “tearing herself away” -- but complete escape from the confrontation. The details that McElroy quotes could be read as either rape or as rough sex (as McElroy ultimately does). She leaves unmentioned, however, those aspects which would be more difficult to reconcile with her ultimate conclusion. I appreciate the nod to us “nonfeminists,” and also the recognition that the sex scene itself is written so fully as rape as to shift the burden of proof firmly onto anyone who would contend that it is not. For it is written as a rape. There follows a lengthy section which I do not consider material to The Fountainhead scene, except for a couple of select passages: I agree that Rand’s conception of masculinity and femininity greatly informs The Fountainhead scene, and possibly provides the foundation for the apparent contradiction of "rape by engraved invitation." This is true, with a caveat. Soon thereafter, McElroy states that the question of rape “comes down to a pure question of consent,” which is precisely the case. We must take care then with our understanding of “consent.” For instance, is one’s “deepest psychological motives and most subtle desires” necessarily indicative of one’s “consent”? Or can one have “subtle desires” for a thing, yet not consent to it? And this, relative to The Fountainhead, is precisely what needs to be demonstrated. All right. I don’t believe that “explicit consent” is required, as versus “implicit consent,” so long as that consent is clearly demonstrated. For instance. Suppose I wish to kiss a girl. I do not need her to sign a contract, or in any other written or verbal way get her to “agree” to the kiss. It is enough that, when I lean in to her to initiate the kiss, she either lean in as well, or even just not move away. That is consent enough. However, if she draws back, it begins to be questionable whether she is giving any kind of consent at all; rather, it would seem the opposite. And if she were to start elbowing my throat, as Dominique does to Roark, I would say that she has clearly communicated a “lack of consent.” I note some of this language, and I am put on guard. I seek and thought I was promised “clear consent,” whether explicit or implicit, and yet McElroy is informing me that it is “almost hidden,” “remarkably subtle,” and “almost invisible.” That there is, in fact, an “aura of rape.” It almost appears as though McElroy is here apologizing for the weakness of her own case... (and well she might! ) Right. And here is some misdirected ad hominem. While I wonder what research has led McElroy to conclude that “mock rape...is a popular way that sex occurs on this planet,” it hardly helps us to decide whether Dominique consented to Roark. Of course, no one wants to be a Puritan (except, presumably, a Puritan). But I will brave this unwarranted, cheap misidentification if it means accurately identifying a rape when it occurs. And finally, if it needs (repeated) mentioning, I have no problems with “consensual violence,” either as sex or sport, or with pornography, or with prostitution. McElroy continues dissecting ideological problems within modern feminism, none of which concerns me. She then finally comes around to The Fountainhead scene: I wholeheartedly disagree with McElroy’s methodology here, in seeking to define a class of “Randian sex scene” and then argue deductively from there, as I’d initially written -- individual scenes must be evaluated individually. Beyond that, may I make a few potentially unfair observations? 1) Note that McElroy chooses “ravished” to describe Dominique’s encounter. As in “as thoroughly taken, or ravished, as any woman in the Western literary canon.” Well... ravish is a synonym for rape. I suppose that McElroy ultimately can’t get away from that sort of language, because it’s so... fitting. 2) She argues “If this encounter can be shown to be merely rough sex...then all the other less violent scenes should be exempted from the charge of rape as well.” She means all of Rand’s “less violent scenes,” I know. But because of the context she’d introduced -- the Western literary canon -- we can almost read this as an argument that, “if Dominique was not raped by Roark, then there can be no literary rape whatsoever; it is all ‘merely rough sex.’” And of course that’s not at all what McElroy means, and of course it’s ridiculous, but I believe that misreading still bears some reflection. After all, if The Fountainhead scene is one of the most rape-like (or “ravishing”) scenes in literature... but somehow isn’t rape... then how would rape be more effectively shown?

I don't know whether this is quite on point, but in my own life I've wrestled with the idea of honesty a time or two. Going back well before reading Rand, I had decided that total honesty was the way to go (while I never had to deal with Nazis, I imagine I would have lied to them regardless). Over time, I realized that my approach to honesty was unpleasant for many or most of the people around me, and subsequently hurting my relationships and my life more generally. What I've come to decide is that there's a difference between what I had taken "honesty" to be -- an undiluted, unconsidered, blunt reporting of thoughts as one has them -- and an endeavor to be truthful within the context of specific situations and relationships. That there is room within honesty for diplomacy. For instance, I'm in a writing critique group, and there is a fellow member who is "brutally honest" in the manner that I used to be. If another one of our writers has written a story which sucks, he won't hesitate to say it (and often leads with something like, "This was really bad"). While I may have reached the same basic conclusions as he, I typically won't say those things. Why not? Here's my reasoning, in part: it's not particularly helpful to the other writer's goal of making a story better. If a story sucks, I'd rather spend my time searching for specific weaknesses, or ways I think it can be made better. Instead of saying, "this was really bad," I'll talk about why I didn't feel sympathy for the main character, or why a particular plot point seemed unrealistic to me. Also, while emotions are not tools of cognition, they do often play important roles in human interaction. If I begin a critique in a manner that immediately wounds the feelings of the other writer, I believe that they are less likely to be receptive to the recommendations which follow. And there is also a feeling of bonhomie which I'd like to preserve in our group, and which I think is worth preservation. I'd want people to feel good about their interactions there, and excited to participate further; not afraid to participate (as sometimes happens), and resentful of the advice they receive. I don't think I've chosen to lie, per se, but I certainly have made a decision to filter and shape my reactions in such a way that I believe will be the most useful, both to this hypothetical bad writer, and to myself. But what are your thoughts? Am I "faking reality" here? Be honest.

I quite understand, although I do believe that the masculinity/femininity thing is a factor. (After all, how could it not be? If we grant that Roark was in some way Rand's "ideal man," then how could his sexuality be portrayed without being stamped by her views on masculinity and the relationship of the sexes?) It's not central to answer the question of rape, which is only a question of Dominique's consent, but it has provided me a possible solution to what I believe is an underlying puzzle: that an advocate of individual rights would portray forced sex as good. I think it also helps to elucidate some of the seeming contradictions that arise from trying to make sense of this scene in the context of the novel, and in light of Rand's notion of "rape by engraved invitation." Just to clarify (as I will have to do again, when I eventually tackle that essay in full), my position has nothing to do with "violent sex" or "rough sex" or "kinky sex" or anything else. I have nothing against those things, of themselves. Neither against "rape fantasy" nor roleplay. The sex could be as gentle as the morning fog, and I'd still draw my line at consent versus non-consent. The violence of this scene is material only in that it suggests to me that Dominique is being forced to have sex. I know that sounds good. It had occurred to me, too. To be honest, nothing would make me happier at this point than to find the "magic bullet" and honestly reach the conclusion that this wasn't rape. But I can't settle for less than that, as I hope you can understand, and I can't "will myself" to change my mind. So here's my problem with this. Suppose that this phrase -- "the degradation she had wanted" -- reflects Dominique's appraisal. And we're certainly open to the idea that she might employ "double think," because as what must certainly be one of this thread's running gags, Dominique is a confused lady! To embrace the idea that this wasn't rape, but was instead "exactly what she was looking for - sex with somebody she's attracted to...", it probably shouldn't actually be "degrading." Right? If it was degrading, I hope we'd both agree that this was more suggestive of rape, because being forced to have sex against one's will might well be degrading, but having sex that you want with an attractive partner is typically one of life's joys. Okay. Let's now go back to a quote we'd parsed a little while ago: How do you read this quote? I take this as having the imprimatur of narrative authority. In other words, this is not simply "Dominique's confused worldview" on display, but a description of things as they are. Note some of the language used to describe their sex: contempt, humiliation, conquest, scorn, defilement, shameful. I take these as being hand-in-glove with Dominique's reading of the act as "degrading," if "degrading" is meant to demonstrate how she did understand it. And to me, this lends further credibility both to 1) interpreting the act as rape on its own merits, as "good sex they both wanted" does not lead me to "contempt, humiliation, conquest...degradation"; and 2) Dominique's ability to clearly understand the nature of the sex act itself, and her subsequent description of the act as rape, which I think is especially important, given that she would know above anyone else whether she had consented to the sex in the first place. If it had been Rand's clear intention to portray consensual sex, then it boggles my mind that she would include language like "the act of a soldier violating an enemy woman," not in opposition to the deed, but in parallel to it. This isn't an argument. But. As a (beginning-and-not-very-good-yet-aspiring) writer myself, I try to take some care with my words. Rand, a person way smarter and more accomplished than myself, would not have been careless, I don't think. Hell, my assessment has thus far been that no one is more careful. I cannot imagine her describing consensual sex in a way that looks so much like rape, has so much rape-charged language ("violate," "rapture," etc.), evokes feelings and actions in one of the participants that is so like rape, is described after the fact as rape by that very participant... and yet somehow not "be" rape. Again, not an argument on my part. The only "real" arguments are going to be about Dominique's actual consent or lack there-of. However this whole thing strikes me like a jigsaw puzzle where some of the pieces simply don't fit.