Was it really too late for Peter Keating?

[Ben Archer]

Hello. This will be my first post on this forum. I've come back to this site to read topics for several years, however.

I recently reread the Fountainhead. One part that has always bothered me is when Roark, after viewing some of Peter's attempts at painting (the line of work Peter should have chosen) says, "It's too late, Peter." Peter followed his mother's advice to be an architect, instead of having the courage to do what he really wanted: paint.

Some would call it luck that Roark was able to do the work he truly loved, but I think it should be considered courage. Had I discovered Ayn Rand's books before going to college in 2002 (I first read Atlas Shrugged in 2004), perhaps I would have had the courage to pursue what I truly love, which is playing piano.

After reading Atlas Shrugged, I wanted to know everything about Ayn Rand. I bought all of her books, and many others about her (Peikoff, Brandon). It wasn't until 2006 that I first read the Fountainhead, however. When I read the aforementioned meeting between Roark and Keating, I couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth in Roark's words: "It's too late Peter."

I originally went to college to study exercise science, because I had spent the year before working myself into top physical condition. I documented the entire process of what I did and ate, and used measurements. I figured I could work with others to achieve similar results. After doing some volunteer work at a Nova Care, working with guys on workman's comp, I realized I just enjoyed getting myself into shape—I wasn't interesting in working with people like that.

Two close family deaths ended my college career in 2006. Since then I've been working with my dad on the family business. It's something I'm good at, but truly don't enjoy. I look forward to going home and working on my songs. I've recorded a few in private. I'm truly happiest when listening to and playing my songs.

Just wondered if anyone else had similar thoughts when reading that passage, or reading what I've wrote about it? Thanks for your time.

[TLD]

One has to know when it is truly "too late" (as in Keating's case) or not. And that does not require Objectivism.

There are alternative paths one can take in life, and it is not always rational to limit oneself to the path that he believes will be the most satisfying. Furthermore, one can pursue multiple paths at the same time.

I too love piano and have written a few songs. When I was finishing college, my goal was to pursue work that best utilized my education. I was soon to be married and needed to establish a stable career. It was already "too late" to consider playing the piano and/or writing music professionally as a primary goal.

That's not to say that I could not gain great joy in continuing playing and writing. And if I were - at any time - to buy a keyboard, create a professional quality recording of my songs and submit it for publication, I would be ecstatic.

And it would not be appropriate to look back and say that I should have done that much younger. I knew when I was in school that a sucessful career in music would be extremely difficult and time consuming; I had to way all the factors in making my career decision.

It appears that circumstances dictated your path. If you believe that you would have truly pursued music as a career under different circumstances, then you can say you were somewhat unlucky. In Roark's case, he pursued the most rational path; that decision was more confidence than courage - and certainly not luck.

Edited May 10, 2010 by TLD

[whYNOT]

Hello. This will be my first post on this forum. I've come back to this site to read topics for several years, however.

I recently reread the Fountainhead. One part that has always bothered me is when Roark, after viewing some of Peter's attempts at painting (the line of work Peter should have chosen) says, "It's too late, Peter." Peter followed his mother's advice to be an architect, instead of having the courage to do what he really wanted: paint.

Some would call it luck that Roark was able to do the work he truly loved, but I think it should be considered courage. Had I discovered Ayn Rand's books before going to college in 2002 (I first read Atlas Shrugged in 2004), perhaps I would have had the courage to pursue what I truly love, which is playing piano.

After reading Atlas Shrugged, I wanted to know everything about Ayn Rand. I bought all of her books, and many others about her (Peikoff, Brandon). It wasn't until 2006 that I first read the Fountainhead, however. When I read the aforementioned meeting between Roark and Keating, I couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth in Roark's words: "It's too late Peter."

I originally went to college to study exercise science, because I had spent the year before working myself into top physical condition. I documented the entire process of what I did and ate, and used measurements. I figured I could work with others to achieve similar results. After doing some volunteer work at a Nova Care, working with guys on workman's comp, I realized I just enjoyed getting myself into shape—I wasn't interesting in working with people like that.

Two close family deaths ended my college career in 2006. Since then I've been working with my dad on the family business. It's something I'm good at, but truly don't enjoy. I look forward to going home and working on my songs. I've recorded a few in private. I'm truly happiest when listening to and playing my songs.

Just wondered if anyone else had similar thoughts when reading that passage, or reading what I've wrote about it? Thanks for your time.

Yes, that's one of the most powerful passages from TF, and one I puzzled over a lot. Despite Roark's compassion in the way he deliverers his statement, there is an air of finality about what he says.

I think Ayn Rand was making some critical points:

Do not live as a second-hander;

Follow your own dream or ambition;

Treat your own life with the ultimate respect;

And all causes have effects.

Now, if Keating had continued his passion for art, while studying architecture, things could well have been different. Roark might have told him on seeing his art "this is where you should be going, Peter - your talent is growing." The two careers did not have to be mutually exclusive, up to that point in time, anyway.

But for Peter, in Rand's dramatisation (and for the purpose of her message), yes, it was "too late."

Back in the real world - for you, Ben, from what you write, also from what I judge your age to be, and from my own experiences, I can say confidently - "No way is it too late!"

[Trebor]

I recently reread the Fountainhead. One part that has always bothered me is when Roark, after viewing some of Peter's attempts at painting (the line of work Peter should have chosen) says, "It's too late, Peter." Peter followed his mother's advice to be an architect, instead of having the courage to do what he really wanted: paint.

...

Just wondered if anyone else had similar thoughts when reading that passage, or reading what I've wrote about it? Thanks for your time.

Someone asked Dr. Peikoff about this part of The Fountainhead":

"In The Fountainhead there is a scene where Peter Keating shows Howard Roark a collection of personal paintings. After examining them, Roark informs Keating that it is too late, and Keating assents. To my mind, keating's paintings are a result of the same kind of inner drive and personal ambition that Roark manafestz; they're the embryonic stirrings of a personal purpose, so why does Roark say it's too late? The questioner goes on to say that I said in some lecture that even if you're 80 or 90 you have the chance to rethink your errors and start again."

You can listen to Dr. Peikoff's response in his podcast, Episode 31 at 07:40.

See here in the "Unofficial Index to Dr. Peikoff's Podcasts." There's a direct link to the podcast so that you can listen, or you can go to Dr. Peikoff's site to find it there.

Unless you know it's too late or you have good reason to assume that it's too late, then there's no reason to do so.

See also something that Dr. Hurd had to say today in his "Daily Dose of Reason" comments, "Error isn't Failure."

[Alfa]

I could be wrong but i've always looked at it more like a "it's too late... to save your soul". So it's not so much about making a career change late in life, i'm sure there are alot of people who have managed that successfully, but rather that Peter had lived his whole life as a second-hander and would lack the ability to become a first-hander(he could not hold values strongly and deeply enough).

[L-C]

I could be wrong but i've always looked at it more like a "it's too late... to save your soul". So it's not so much about making a career change late in life, i'm sure there are alot of people who have managed that successfully, but rather that Peter had lived his whole life as a second-hander and would lack the ability to become a first-hander(he could not hold values strongly and deeply enough).

That was my impression as well. It wasn't about Peter not being able to become a skilled painter, but to change his entire outlook on life.

[SapereAude]

That was my impression as well. It wasn't about Peter not being able to become a skilled painter, but to change his entire outlook on life.

I would tend to take that impression away as well. The life he lived left him without moral muscle.

I think what Roark was getting at was that it was too late to live the life that would build the foundation to realize the potential he was trying to express with his paintings- not that it was too late to try to live a better life.

[Ben Archer]

It appears that circumstances dictated your path. If you believe that you would have truly pursued music as a career under different circumstances, then you can say you were somewhat unlucky. In Roark's case, he pursued the most rational path; that decision was more confidence than courage - and certainly not luck.

Although I hate to use circumstances as an excuse, they certainly didn't help.

Back in the real world - for you, Ben, from what you write, also from what I judge your age to be, and from my own experiences, I can say confidently - "No way is it too late!"

Hi Tony. Your response made me smile—thank you for the encouragement. I guess deep down I knew it wasn't too late, meaning the main thing holding me back is lack of confidence.

Unless you know it's too late or you have good reason to assume that it's too late, then there's no reason to do so.

See also something that Dr. Hurd had to say today in his "Daily Dose of Reason" comments, "Error isn't Failure."

Trebor, thank you for this info. I listened to Peikoff's podcast you mentioned (that website is an amazing resource). Also, Dr. Hurd's "Daily Dose..." was a breath of fresh air.

Thank you all for replying and helping me to understand this. Your responses have definitely helped me think about the options I have.

[whYNOT]

I could be wrong but i've always looked at it more like a "it's too late... to save your soul". So it's not so much about making a career change late in life, i'm sure there are alot of people who have managed that successfully, but rather that Peter had lived his whole life as a second-hander and would lack the ability to become a first-hander(he could not hold values strongly and deeply enough).

I see your point, but I just wonder if Roark was the kind of person to pass a total judgement on someone in this way.

First, his work, his productivity, was of maximum importance to him (we know), almost to the exclusion of all else - so he would I think assess Peter on that alone.

Second, as an egoist with high rationality, would he take it on himself to presume what Peter's future life might be? Though he might, privately, have done so. I'm not certain, but I don't believe so.

Rand has made it clear in other places that she definitely thought a man had the capability to change - his 'potential' - and although we should judge, we should also take that into account.

"Benevolence", if you will.

(A pleasure, Ben. )

[L-C]

Trebor, thank you for this info. I listened to Peikoff's podcast you mentioned (that website is an amazing resource). Also, Dr. Hurd's "Daily Dose..." was a breath of fresh air.

Thank you all for replying and helping me to understand this. Your responses have definitely helped me think about the options I have.

Objectivism is a breath of a fresh world.

[Tyco]

As far as I remember, the key point to that passage was Roark experiencing the emotion of pity. I wouldn't overstate the importance of what particular thing triggered this emotion - it just happened to be the realisation that Keating had squandered his potential to be a great artist.

That's how I interpret Roark's reaction, btw: that as a great artist himself he was able to recognize the great painter that Peter could have been, had he developed sooner. I seriously don't think it had anything to do with Peter's 'soul' like others here are suggesting, just his painting skill.

And this was, what, 30 years since Peter had given up painting as a young child? And Roark was still able to detect traces of greatness in the work? By that reckoning, talent is fairly robust - you should be fine.

[marcabela]

Brilliant question.

To use the analogy many libertarians have used in the past (JJ Rousseau, and others, etc), if someone lives his life like a chicken for too many years, it's probably quite difficult to go back to an "eagle" mindset by the age of say... 30... or 40 (or even later). By then, your wings have seriously atrophied, you have no serious sense of hunting, self-love self-reliance self-respect self-ishness are concepts long forgotten, and the "I'm done with the farm - off back to the forest I go!" is as crazy as it will feel deep inside the belly, i.e. almost suicidal.

The Wachowski brothers left Morpheus with an interesting sentence when he said to Neo (just after having woken him up) something to the effect of:

 

"I feel I owe you an apology. We have a rule... we never free a mind once it reaches a certain age. It's dangerous, and the mind has trouble letting go. I've seen it before, and I'm sorry. I did what I did, because... I had to."

So indeed, past a certain age, the reverse transition "chicken -> eagle" (farmed animal to wild animal) is rendered so complicated and so challenging that many will scream their lungs out to avoid it at all costs. Also, many simply "wake up" so late to the "chicken" abundance to be found inside them and to the lack of "eagle" that the cost of the transition back to the forest is really complicated...

Having said that... it's all in your head. And only there.

Just like Neo wakes up to the fact that he has never used his eyes before (etc) - just like he can actually become the one who fills himself up so completely with enlightenment and new thoughts that he succeeds in seeing completely through all the lies of all and everything and that he finds himself defeating the "chickening process" as he goes bringing down alone all the negative end of the matrix surrounding him and everybody else giving hope to all the fighters around.

If you want my personal opinion: Ayn Rand (herself) must have been a complete (total) chicken - for a very, very, very long time. For indeed, just like it often takes a heavy drug addict to talk clearly and see through every aspect of what it means to be addicted to drugs, or just like there's nothing like an ex-anorexic girl to speak about how anorexia really works, just like one cannot really talk clearly about "enlightenment" (eagle vs chicken, etc) if he/she hasn't tasted deeply both ends of the social spectrum. Yet Ayn Rand still succeeded in waking up people by the million - if not more - to the idea of (at least try to) do the "eagle" thing.

And so just like Mister Anderson made it back safely and ultimately became Neo - you can also always become your own Neo. Always. Now. Can you sustain the eventual sacrifices, can you let go of all the "time lost", can you do with the loss of quality of life which you will have to accept and tolerate, can you tolerate all the people around you who will go on imposing social pressure convincing you you're doing the very wrong thing around, will you have the strength to grow back your claws, to tolerate the forest and leave behind you all the eventual virtual warmth and/or fake comfort of your old farm, that's all up to you...

If Peter Keating was really already on his way to moving back to the "eagle" back inside him - it wouldn't have mattered a single bit what Howard said, let alone thought.

[Tad Milošević]

On 5/12/2010 at 11:08 PM, Tyco said:

As far as I remember, the key point to that passage was Roark experiencing the emotion of pity. I wouldn't overstate the importance of what particular thing triggered this emotion - it just happened to be the realisation that Keating had squandered his potential to be a great artist.

 

That's how I interpret Roark's reaction, btw: that as a great artist himself he was able to recognize the great painter that Peter could have been, had he developed sooner. I seriously don't think it had anything to do with Peter's 'soul' like others here are suggesting, just his painting skill.

 

And this was, what, 30 years since Peter had given up painting as a young child? And Roark was still able to detect traces of greatness in the work? By that reckoning, talent is fairly robust - you should be fine.

This is what I remember. He was experiencing pity, and if I remember correctly, Rand states immediately after that pity is the cruellest thing one man can do to another. Which is an interesting parallel to the nature of the question here. Was Roarke being deliberately cruel? Was his pity beyond his control?

 

[Boydstun]

On 11/28/2019 at 6:50 AM, Boydstun said:

Pity

. . .

Peter later squarely faces the fact that virtually all the merit of his buildings has come about by his parasitism on Roark and past creators like Roark. He confesses this sincerely, with dignity, to Roark. Rand’s ideal Howard Roark tells Peter that no forgiveness from him is needed since he has not been hurt in any important way by Peter’s betrayals. Roark has no drive to punish Keating (HR VIII 623). If the terms egotist and kindness do not sit well together, then one needs to rethink these concepts, for Roark is man most egoistic and most kind (HR VIII 631).

Then Peter shows to Howard something he has in his briefcase, something not shown to anyone else. Peter has been doing a work entirely alone, purely because he wants to do it. Howard looks at the landscape paintings Peter has made in solitude and now has pulled from his case. He sees sadly what Peter had really already known: it is too late in life for Peter to develop the skills needed to bring what he feels in a scene onto the canvas (ibid.).

“When Keating had gone, Roark leaned against the door, closing his eyes.

He was sick with pity.

He had never felt this before . . . . This was pity—this complete awareness of a man without worth or hope, this sense of finality, of the not to be redeemed. There was shame in this feeling—his own shame that he should have to pronounce such judgment upon a man, that he should know an emotion which contained no shred of respect.

This is pity, he thought, and then he lifted his head in wonder. He thought that there must be something terribly wrong with a world in which this monstrous feeling is called a virtue.” (HR VIII 631–32)

Contrast that feeling with Roark’s spontaneous feeling towards Mallory, “a desire to lift him in his arms and carry him to safety” (ET XI 351). This feeling does not go by the name pity or compassion in Fountainhead.

. . .

Self-pity is widely spurned in the world. It is spurned as well by Rand’s Roark (ET I 214–15). In popular culture, one sometimes sees pity upon another spurned as disrespectful by the one who is object of the pity. It is spurned by Joyce Heath in the movie Dangerous (1935) and by Police Chief Gillespie in the movie In the Heat of the Night (1967).

American Heritage Dictionary states two related meanings of the term pity:

1. 1.Sorrow or grief aroused by the misfortune of another; compassion for suffering.
2. 2.Concern or regret for one considered inferior or less favored.

It is that second one that is sometimes portrayed as disagreeable and is sometimes be discouraged in popular culture. American Heritage lists the following synonyms having in common that they designate grief or concern felt for someone in misfortune: pity, compassion, commiseration, sympathy, condolence, and empathy. It goes on state the differences in the usage of theses terms. “Pity implies a disposition to help but little emotional sharing of the distress. Compassion always favorably connotes broad or profound feeling for the misfortunes of others and a desire to aid them. Sympathy is as broad as pity but connotes spontaneous emotion rather than considered attitude. Empathy, with literary and psychological overtones, is a conscious involvement with a person’s situation in the sense of vicarious identification” (1976).

The preponderance of translators of Nietzsche into English render his Mitlied as pity, rather than as compassion. Josefine Nauckoff’s translation of The Gay Science alone plunks for compassion over pity.

Nietzsche wrote against the elevation of Mitlied, against making it a virtue, such as had been done by Christianity and by Schopenhauer (D 132–33, 142; GS 251; Z IV “The Cry of Distress”; AC 7). Major translators of Schopenhauer, E.F.J. Payne and R.E. Aquila, render his Mitlied as compassion. David Cartwright (1988) has argued that Mitlied in Schopenhauer should be rendered compassion and that in Nietzsche Mitlied should be rendered pity.

I should mention something about Nietzsche that I have left only implicit for too long. His call for ever-new tables of good and evil exempts the virtues of courage and intellectual honesty. His charges against good and evil are not charges against the noble and base. (I am indebted to Prof. Pippin for that point.) Courage and intellectual honesty belong to the essence of the noble. Pity does not.

. . .