On Peter Keating…
I think what Rand is saying (using Keating) is this: consciousness has identity; its volitional nature makes it malleable, but that does not mean it is infinitely malleable.
Keating has lived a lifetime of other-directedness that he has automatized. When he looks at something he has made and asks himself, “is it good”, he is thinking about what others will say about it. Over time, this has slowly destroyed his self-esteem to the point that he does not have enough of the spark required to bootstrap himself to a radical change. If he hits a tough spot (him against popular conventional), he simply does not have the confidence to think independently.
Perhaps if Keating had a great psychologist who could be there to help him through each step, and if he had many years ahead of him to work rebuild his self-esteem and unlearn his bad thinking habits, then he could emerge “fixed”. Indeed, I think that, had it served the purpose of the novel, Rand could have depicted a Keating who had realized his problem and who shows a spark that tells the reader that he might actually be able to work through it. Of Keating, Rand journaled the following:
Keating … … it is only when people begin to desert him that he begins to question his own soul, to realize dimly what it was that he missed, what it was that he had always envied, feared and resented in Roark. When he understands it, it is too late. We leave him, a man without hope, without future, without past, a man who had lived through others, had brought them nothing but sorrow and left them nothing but bad imitations of every bad building created before him. (emphasis added)
I think Rand’s choice of ending for Keating is to show that there can be a line across which there is no return, at least not in a practical time-frame. The idea that it can be “too late” to change is repeated in Wynand’s ending (particularly in the movie). Again, from Rand’s journals:
She knows that she and Wynand have both found the same thing in Roark; only it is too late for Wynand …(emphasis added)
Switching to her non-fiction, here is the passage the Inspector referred to above…
Volition, however, does not mean non-identity; it does not mean that one can misuse one’s mind indefinitely without suffering permanent damage. But it does mean that so long as a child is not insane, he has the power to correct many faults in his mental functioning, and many injuries, whether they are self-inflicted or imposed on him from the outside. The latter are easier to correct than the former.
The evidence indicates that some graduates of the Progressive nursery schools do recover and others do not—and that their recovery depends on the degree of their “non-adjustment,” i.e., the degree to which they rejected the school’s conditioning. By “recovery” I mean the eventual development of a rational psycho-epistemology, i.e., of the ability to deal with reality by means of conceptual knowledge.
In addition, I remember somewhere Rand gave an example of an author who took the view that he would start off by writing trash, earning lots of money doing so, and then – once he was rich – he would write a great masterpiece. She explained how this was easier said than done. If someone has a reference, I’d appreciate it if they posted it here.
In a letter, Ayn Rand again echoes the idea that at some point (some age?) habits of thinking become “permanent”.
Dear Mr. Nicholas:
I can sympathize with the fact that you feel fear when you look at the present state of the world, but I hope that this is not your chronic emotion. It is too early to feel fear of the future when one is under 30, and too late after that. What I mean is that one must never allow fear to become one’s permanent sense of life… (emphasis added)
However, in another letter she says this:
It is never too late to start on a new road, and it is certainly not too late for you. If there’s one thing I have learned by personal experience and by observing the people around me, it’s that a person’s life actually starts from about 35 on; I mean, the best and the most active part of one’s life. Up to that time one merely learns and accumulates experience. …
I would summarize my understanding of Rand’s position as follows: there is a certain level of automatized secondhandness that eats away at one’s self-esteem to such an extent, that – at some stage of deterioration – one does not have even the sliver of self-confidence required to begin a process of change. I hate to say it’s impossible, but it might be, in the context of the years of damage and the years left to go.