Other Things Worthy of Your Time
The Moral Dilemma of Success
(Fountainhead Essay
Contest 2004)
4/15/04
"The conventional view is that in life an individual can either achieve practical success or be moral, but not both. Do you think Ayn Rand accepts or rejects this conventional view in The Fountainhead? Explain by reference to characters and events from the novel."
One cannot achieve practical success
and remain grounded in a moral concept.
To be moral is to know the difference between right and wrong, and to embrace
what’s right. Howard Roark was a hero, not only to the society that so badly
needed one to thrive, but in general, as the man who followed his own
convictions of what was right. To be immoral is to discard what’s right, and to
do so willfully. Ellsworth Toohey was a villain in the truest meaning of the
sense—he took a knowledge of right and wrong and chose that which is wrong, to
harm others around him, and enjoyed a thorough success in life, not despite it,
but because of it. Amidst the opposite extremes in the morals of Roark and the
corruption of Toohey though, stood personalities capable of understanding the
integrity and advantage of a moral existence, but driven enough to succeed that
they could deviate from it to reach their goals, and feed their desires.
Success is achievement that has to be achieved. Like any goal, it involves labor, adversity, and sacrifice. The sacrifice isn’t always personal though, unless one considers the misfortune of others that they caused personally degrading. But how does one achieve practical success? Certainly they’re not handed the fruits of achievement. They have to seize them. They have to take them. The realization of success is essentially the abandonment of morality by design.
Peter
Keating is a prime example of a person finding success through immoral methods.
From the first moment he stepped into his career at Francon & Heyer, he had his
eye on the top; only then could he be successful. It started with his
influencing Stengel,
and causing him to go independent and design
the Dunlop house. After that it was Keating forcing Francon’s partner,
Lucius Heyer, into retirement—in the form of a
heart attack he might as well have caused intentionally.
In both cases, Peter would take their former positions, working his way up in
the firm. Eventually, it would be Keating admitting his shortcomings and
accepting someone else’s work as his own. The fact it was Howard Roark’s made
it so much worse. He had always been the closest thing to a nemesis Keating
had ever known,
and to accept the superiority of Roark’s work over his own, Peter would be
admitting insufficiency, admitting defeat. In an act at the summit of
immorality—deserting what’s right—he’d be giving up on himself.
His inadequacy constantly preceded him though. Keating was a second hander who continually fell short, not only in his aspirations and maximum(?) magnitude of practical success, but in his heart and ability to crush the opposition with immoral measures when necessary. He knew what was right and knew that he’d have to go against it to accomplish his goals, but couldn’t face the consequences of that livelihood and was overwhelmed by guilt. Not only did he fall short as being worthy competition to Roark in terms of talent and creative capacity, but fell short in being an antagonist in the story whatsoever, getting lost somewhere in the middle.
Ellsworth Toohey, however, was the polar opposite of anything moral; he was everything wrong in the world. The hypocrite humanitarian who knowingly committed crimes against humanity, destroying nobility in the hearts of men, he was the puppet master of immoral people with immoral actions. Controlling, conniving, and at times the epitome of wicked, he was a proven success.
Knowing the boundaries of right and wrong, Toohey knew better than anyone how to warp them. He could take the purest heart and destroy it, either with corruption—as he did with most of the intellectual community that surrounded him—or with blatant cruelty—as he did with his niece Catherine. Given the time and the power, a man such as Toohey would just as soon ruin the world. He’d spread poison to the type of people who would spread it themselves, and destroy anyone who might have a chance at saving them. He was a success story—of immorality—at the center of the opposition that combated moral heroics such as those of Roark.
Still, to be immoral is an act, a venture that’s attempted, something that can fail or succeed, and, the degree of capability of those who performs the immoral actions, a type of success, in and of itself. Immorality requires a knowledge of morals. Destruction requires a knowledge of the foundation to the thing that’s going to be destroyed.
Dominique was a woman who, as the daughter of one such Guy Francon, had never known anything other than success and a fruitful existence. Coincidentally, she had no problem abandoning morality, and, like Toohey, could do so knowledgably, aware of the boundaries between right and wrong. She was willing to destroy the man she loved—even if it was because of that love—and knew how. She wasn’t ignorant of her own immorality. She knew that the type of things she needed to do to reserve Roark’s place in her life—and only her life—could only harm him. She knew that even such a triumphant man could be hurt to the point he was destroyed. She knew these things and how to accomplish them, on account of her own love for him. It was an immoral act so magnificent that Roark himself could respect it.
Before you can pass judgment on the outcome of an action, you must first examine the motive. One’s initial concept of their actions often differs from the eventual outcome of them. Perhaps Dominique saw Roark as a mere object to her pleasing, yet another luxury to feed her spoiled tastes. He was a grand toy—a man—and the grandest form of such things that could ever be. She might have initially misunderstood the manner of her obsession though. Never having experienced love, she’d have to realize her attraction to Roark wasn’t as an object—the portrait of the perfect man—but as Howard Roark—a living, breathing man—a significant other in her life that she would share her life with, and experience true love with, as an equal individual.
A woman can destroy a man even better than he could do so himself, but she can also please him in such a way that he could not experience never having known her. Dominique Francon did all she could to destroy her interpretation of Roark, but, in the process, with her mere presence to complement him, only contributed to the ego, the life, and to the grand existence of Howard Roark the being.
To be moral is to be aware of right and wrong and choose what’s right. Sometimes perception of what’s right differs from one person to another, but these people still believe in their own ideals whole-heartedly. The only variable is interpretation. Morals depend on an individual’s own version of them, and the character of a person as moral or not depends on the criteria they believe for themselves. Morals and conviction go hand in hand.
Howard Roark rejected success for the sake of the things he believed in—his morals—on more than one occasion. He was steadfast in his convictions about the way things should be done, inviting an expulsion from his higher education thanks to the Dean who’d see those ideals thrown out. He’d refuse the likes of Wilmot and Weidler, who’s stubborn wishes were as insufficient as they were hindering to Roark’s creative energy, but also vessels to which he could climb the ladder of his chosen trade. He’d even turn his own creation when it was spoiled, in the Cortlandt Homes, to rubble, truly aware of the chance that his crime could halt his progression forever. He stuck to his beliefs on what was right at the expense of success. He embraced his morals whole-heartedly and knowing the potential circumstances. Besides the cited parallels and conflicts between practical success and moral foundation, The Fountainhead is a novel about people’s moral duty to themselves.
Circumstance always affects actuality. If only Keating had any less a capacity for conscience, and more ability to seek success at the cost of moral guise, he would have risen even higher in the ranks he aspired for, even equal in capability to Roark. Had Toohey instead embraced righteousness as his path in life, with the equal effort and attention he gave deceit, he would have been a truly dignified character, but lacking in terms of material accomplishment. Were Dominique any less immorally selfish, she might have fallen from the integrity her name reserved for her, and certainly wouldn’t have been worthy of influencing Roark’s energy, or even warranting his attention. If not for the presence of immoral people, blinding each other and themselves in the name of altruism and false goodwill, there would be no need for the type of morally and fundamentally sound hero of Howard Roark, someone who could neglect success and function as a guide to moral sanctuary.
In The Fountainhead, the conventional view of practical success opposing moral stability not only applies, it governs.
NOTES
This wasn't actually the essay I submitted. The one I did was everything before the corrections in red. I wrote it start to finish the night before the deadline, corrected it the next day, and submitted it that night. I obviously should have gone over it once more at least judging by the amount of corrections. I've since perfected it (hence the red ink), but, shamefully, this edition probably won't ever be seen by the judges.
If it were, even regardless of how miniscule most of the changes are, I'd be inclined to believe it would win.