My Cocktail Position: Ayan Rand's Objectivism Vs Collectivism

Ayan Rand’s Fictions

People associated with me always grimace when I say I enjoyed Ayn Rand's book immensely. How can someone who was born and reared in a collectivist society like India enjoy objectivist fiction? Being from a collectivist society with a degree of individual freedom may have conditioned my mind to appreciate extreme objectivism while coping with the negative side effects of a collectivist society. That is the first reason. Negative effect: I think I should clarify that only in instances of individual freedom is a person's willingness to make unintended sacrifices questioned. These sacrifices reach a point where a person forgets about his own happiness, even if he is joyful, claiming that everyone's happiness is his own.

The second reason for my admiration of her fictional work may be a parallel to my own search for the inner self and for giving my life meaning or finding a purpose through activities in creating me. (Whether it be career or existence)

When making a statement in a collectivist society, there is an element of truth in certain circumstances. Compared to Western families, the interdependence of family members in India is a model of collectivism that is securely coupled. I have always believed that individuals in India should be independent and self-reliant, but what is the reality? With a few exceptions, we do not live in a utopia where individuals walk, learn, and carry out all actions of their own accord.

Let me challenge Rands’s achievement from today’s perspective. We are talking about her, today due to a collectivist organisation and a publication which is a result of collective effort, though ideas and writings are from an Individual thought. We can't deny a society that carries her ideas, which becomes a collective effort. It could be direct or indirect. Remember there is an Ayan Rand Institute. There I make a statement, every phenomenon (small or big) in this world may be a product of an individual’s vision and defined objectives or as a result of objectivism. But in most cases, that’s achieved through collective effort. If I make it even simpler, even the activity of brushing teeth in the mornings becomes an action that comes out a result of the collective effort of making toothpaste factory men that started as a seed in individual minds.

Wikipedia: Objectivism is a philosophical system developed by Russian-American writer and philosopher Ayn Rand. She described it as "the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute". 

My Position: A cocktail of objectivism and collectivism.

The only question, in my opinion, is where objectivism begins. Where does it apply? Where does it end? I am aware that Ayn Rand avoided the subjective emotional aspect of the human condition. That is not consistent with objectivism. I would like to see a blend of emotional quotients in the objectivism theory. Let's term it a novel philosophy if it does not already exist a mixture of subjectivism and collectivism. (A cocktail of objectivism and collectivism.) I will not separate emotions from this theory, its objective intentions or its subjective realities. Because there I discover a space of unity.

For example, I write this for my own happiness with me as my primary subject. That satisfies Ayan Rand’s first line of objectivism. Now returning to the example, I write this blog for my own pleasure and for the enjoyment of my peers. Even if only a hundred people read this article, "I" and the hundred become one.  Let it be platonic. At that moment, I become friends with “We” the collective. “I” and “We” becomes one during that thought process in the conscious even though people are detached from me, it’s my objective vision and collective vision at the same time.

At this juncture, I blend emotion with objectivism and develop a more subjective perspective of the world; if not at the execution level, the subjective emotional integration becomes a part of the objective at the platonic level. In rare instances, it may also occur at the level of execution, when someone reads her book after reading this essay. Most objectives are accomplished with varying degrees of collective effort.

Politics and Capitalism.

Having said that, I will be completely in agreement with her in many areas of her philosophy.

Wikipedia: Man’s mind will not function at the point of a gun. Therefore, the only type of organized human behaviour consistent with the operation of reason is voluntary cooperation. Persuasion is the method of reason. By its nature, the overtly irrational cannot rely on the use of persuasion and must ultimately resort to force to prevail. Thus, Rand argued that reason and freedom are correlated, just as she argued that mysticism and force are corollaries. Based on this understanding of the role of reason, Objectivists claim that the initiation of physical force against the will of another is immoral, as are indirect initiations of force through threats, fraud, or breach of contract.

Regarding capitalism, she supported a free market economy. A laissez-faire capitalism. My views slightly change here. Indian conditions created my thought process, hence a level of control on essentials concerning states’ objectives and people’s objectives required. There may be a level of control required from the governments on selected areas like education, food and housing. I know it’s a never-ending debatable area.

Wikipedia: Laissez-faire capitalism is a theory of free-market economics that suggests that the government should not interfere with the economy. It is based on the idea that businesses should be allowed to operate without regulation or intervention, as this would foster competition, innovation, and productivity.

Although I agree with the fundamental instincts of humans for advancement in terms of how competition, innovation, and productivity have helped states and people advance and fostered the growth of thriving industries in the last three hundred years to create the world we see today. You can’t deny all the positives that came out of man’s quest to create the world we live in today. I am not an extremely pessimistic poet lamenting progress. But the checks and balances required due to the destructions because of creations need to be identified and supported. There I would place collective intentions above individual purpose.

At the same time, it is unacceptable for individuals to be punished, attacked, or killed if they object to a collective. An example would be a person who rejects a religion attacked by the same group of individuals. This occurs in the present day. That is true. There, I oppose a group of men who is in charge of that. In such situations, individual aims do not align with team objectives. Respect the liberty of the individual. I stand with Ayn Rand on this point. The world is not entirely black and white.

Mohan Lal Or Shakeela ?

2003 - Florida Weston

"Let us argue, for argument’s sake." The Telegu boy, Sasidhar, initiated it as a friendly conversation.

"I have no problem."

"Don’t take it personally." Sasi wanted to be sure of his argument not hurting me.

I smiled. "No. You can tell me anything in this world. I will never take it personally. "

"We thought Malayalam movies were B-grade movies; sex movie heroines like Shakila overtook superhero Mohan Lal. We also heard such movies are more popular in Kerala than super star movies.”

"I am not aware of it." After a pause, I continued, "Of course, I read some bits and pieces in the newspaper two years back, about her movie being a hit. That was a hit in B-grade and c-grade theatres."

The Telegu boy tried to grasp the crux of my explanation.

Then he repeated, "I see, for us, Malayalam means those fatty girl movies, you know what I mean."

"Sasidhar, you know, I have not even seen that kind of movie in theatres, the Mallu ones you said popular in Andhra."

[My readers don’t ogle me. That’s the truth. I've seen video cassettes; - international educational films.]

"But, that’s what we hear in Andhra. Malayalam means B-Grade." Sasidhar aired his point of view, not to insult me but to argue.

"You know, Sasidhar, that’s what we also hear in our locality. Telegu means B-grade." Sasidhar was not comfortable hearing that even though argument was his proposal. I noticed some resistance from his side to my argument.

"How come? Telugu movies are collecting world-wide. Just see the money they are making. At times it’s much more than Hindi movies."

“I don’t dispute, at times, very good movies may not make that much money. I am not saying money-making movies are bad. Sasi, I am talking about so-called very good movies. Just by analysing the national academy awards of the last 20-30 years, you will see Malayalam movies' position in Indian cinema. Look at the fact sheet. "

“You know, no one in India knows about it correctly. Everyone knows only about Hindi and Telegu movies.”

“I have no idea of what movies you are talking about. Even if it is a logical argument, Sasi, I thought Bengali movies came out on top overall if we look at overall historical data. Never forget the name Satyajit Ray. "

"I agree with Satyajit Ray. He also won the Oscar award. Then, why Malayalam movies never got an Oscar? "

"Sasi, Oscar is majorly for movies made in Hollywood. Of course, there is a section for other languages. It is an exception. Oscar is not our cinema meter."

I thought he was not convinced regarding money making point. Our argument ended there. There was no animosity with Telegu boy at any point. It was straight forward friendly, a bit heated conversation in certain points.

Was it a fan fight? No, just casual arguments. I remember I never had any problem with him, because he was logical most of the time. In the end, I have reminded him watching Cheeru and Nagarjuna movies to reassure his friendship.

 

School Notebook

However, there was a narrow golden line to remember during the third grade. Like every storyteller started the story in the olden days, it was a cliché start. He started opening the concentric memory circles one by one. First, the bigger circle of memory, then the next circle, jumped from one to another. Once upon a time, while in 3rd grade, Linsa was the best student. That was always the case during those days. Someone alerted him,  “Not those days, that’s the case always.” Girls outscored boys. Ether, a Linsa, a Princy, a Jincy, and the endless list goes on.  Maybe that was only prejudice Lona acquired during his childhood days. He accepted that as inherited prejudice, though never announced it as prejudice. He was comfortable with reality.

One day, it happened. It was a big compliment for him. Nobody knew it was a big compliment. During the class break, the best student Linsa stole his notebook from his school bag without telling him. There were three or four good studious girls and boys. He was not sure why she had to steal his book. The topper of the class need not take notebooks from such a low-scoring person.  He was proud that she took his notes.

But the story took a turn. A naughty boy Yohannan found out about her stealing act. He came near Lona, “See Lona, she has stolen the book from your bag. I have seen with my naked eyes. This is not right. She could have asked you.” Lona kept silent as if he did not hear, though, from the school veranda, he noticed Linsa stealing the book. It was fun to watch her childish smartness. Lona continued the silence. After some time, the same naughty boy came again with four other naught boys to question her actions. “After all, she is a girl. She should have asked you before taking the book.” Lona kept silent like former Indian prime minister Manmohan Singh, not any sign of maturity, but boys never knew, the class topper stealing his notebook was like getting a special jury appreciation, nor those boys would understand that feeling.

They kept on pressuring Lona to question her uncultured act. “After all, that’s not right.” After continuous pressure, Lona acted angry with the iron slate in his hand swinging above her head, as if he may hit her anytime. While speaking about something, the thin edges of the slate made a blood-red mark on her forehead. Suddenly the scene changed, she started crying loudly. Celia-sister came into the class, Lona started arguing about the accident. Somehow she escaped from her guilt by crying out loud at Lona’s mistake.

After a few days, a quiz competition was conducted in the class. The batch was divided into two groups. One person from a group can ask a question to a person from another side. The tactic to win that game was to ask a question to a weaker student from the opposite group. Sister Celia gave Lona the chance to ask the first question. He asked one of the easiest questions on the planet and selected topper Linsa to answer the question. He pointed the fingers in her direction; she jumped out of excitement and answered the question, scoring a valuable point for her team. Sister Celia looked at Lona’s face. The meaning of glancing was evident. “Are you stupid to ask such a silly question to Linsa?” At that age, he could not make her understand the happiness of his heart. But after a minute of sarcastic look, it seemed sister Celia learned the naughty trick of innocent love of making another person happy, especially after a hitting incident.

The notebook incident repeated after many years. This time, it was the tenth-grade topper. But she asked that politely.  There was no stealing. She wanted the notebook from him for the days she missed the classes. He reminded her to get it from two other usual toppers, if she wanted to get good notes instead of his notebook, his handwriting was never better than a medical prescription by most doctors he had seen. But she was sensitive in asking for his notes. Somehow she was clever and found out a confidential way to request for his notebook in a place that nobody in the school would notice. He was happy about that great achievement. But, Lona was surprised, why she took the difficult route of finding him alone in a place where he never expected her to find him. The answer to his question was simple. One word. “Paparazzi.”

 

Bangalore Sumitha

“What do you do other than a job? What’s pass-time?” Sumitha asked that question casually while IBM jobs.

“It was my dream to publish a novel. I think it may...”

“Then, I need a hundred autographs now itself.”

“Why hundred? One is not enough?”

“No. I need a hundred so that I can sell it and make a living out of that.” She said with a smile.

There was excitement in hearing that. Tactfully I suppressed the eagerness. I was happy to hear spontaneous words and expressed my gratitude for the kind words. But the self-talk was different. ‘What kind of woman is this! Who knows? It should come out properly right. Autograph, nonsense.’ I never told her that directly.  The duality of mind. The excitement and the act of controlling it. When certain people start the walk on oceans chasing endless borders appearing so near, but so far, children from the seashores jump and clap. Some others warn you of the dangers. What was her view from the sandy coastline? I may paint new poems on the borders of the sea, the sky. However, I accepted her words with a pleasant smile.

Lonappan @ Heaven Part

A veranda. All painted in white. Someone is walking through that corridor. Is he dreaming? Maybe. It’s impossible to see such a scene in life. It must be a dream. His thoughts inside the dream confirmed it as a dream. He found that man. Man or woman? Long white dress, he must be a man tired of answering all the questions of this universe. He stopped for a moment. He turned back. Now Lona could see his face. An old man with a rock star face, unlike other rock stars, his face appeared to be calm. Ponytail hair. Triangular bearded. Goggles with a golden frame. It seems to be a never-ending walk. Lona stopped looking at the old man figure. He glanced at the mirror. He could see another face, is it Lona or Lonappan? his great grandfather. This is utter confusion, he thought, it should have been Lona. Instead, it shows Lonappan, a dream can have any nonsense. Still, he lamented, a mirror should not tell a lie even in a dream. The mirror should be a mirror. He looked again. This time, he realized the mirror was right. He could see hundreds of heads in the same mirror. Reflections. It was like a saloon mirror. One mirror in the front and one in the back. He looked again at that old man figure. Is he the man controlling all the evolutions happening across the globe, this entire nature? In another flash, the face of the old man changed to appear like an old woman. Is he driving all these changes in science, technology, and communication? Is he driving this entire galaxy? Who is this old figure?

Lonappan thought that the transitions and transformations of human beings were not easy. The world loves to watch Niagara Waterfalls. They don’t need to think about how that happens. The little drops of water come together and become a bigger one. These small drops flow along with others that move like streams, join a river, go around places, touch several shores and stones, embrace several tree roots, finally come over and fall into Ontario lake, further flowing and meeting in the vast ocean. Lona preferred the streams, rivers, and lakes instead of looking at the wild and mighty waterfall. He used to speak to those tiny water droplets which are flowing through the silent streams. “Oh, beauty, you will reach that big ocean. If you find a river on your way, join that river, never re-route to a pond, flow freely to the ocean.” 

How clever is that man! The man who encapsulated even the evolution of the world into those drops of water. To that drop, painted the hidden beauty and magic of all senses of human beings, the one who created a never-ending sensation of nature's beauty.

This magnificent creation flows along with evolution. On the way, it cleanses the soil, stones, and plants. How did this white-robbed old man create all these streams? People call him God. He glanced into the mirror again. He is not Lona. He is Lonappan. This time, the picture was clear to Lonappan. This is heaven. This is never the dream. It is the reality of Lonappan. He thought, “It can’t be left like this. I need to ask that strange figure, God.” He knew it may not be easy. Many people attempted it in the past. It’s his turn now.  

Thursday Depaul School Class - Snippet - Sex Guides

 Lona recalled the Kalabhavan comedy drama where students ask the biology teacher how babies were born. At the age of ten, that satisfied the curiosity of most of his friends. Students ask questions like, what if a boy of age 8 and a girl of age 8, ding dong dim. Biology teacher blushed when he heard the question. “What ding dong dim…Don’t ask stupid questions. Nothing doing.”  But students were adamant in getting the right answer from the right teacher. “Teacher, teacher …It’s our serious-doubt, what if a boy of age 9 and girl of age 9 get married, will they deliver babies?”  With hesitation, the teacher says, “No marriage at nine.” Students pursue again; “What if a boy of age 10 and a girl of age 10 marry, will they…”  Teacher answered loudly “No.” After that the teacher gets the next round of questions, “what if a boy of age 11…..” The teacher continued…”stop stop….you will come to know when your time comes.”  

That was the first coaching. Lona  remembered his friend Romeo helping him while the drama was going on. Romeo said; “Lona, the truth is, I have seen real things live. Don’t believe this comedy drama. After marriage, men and women go under a big carpet. I have seen that through the window while delivering the milk. That’s how everything happens, you know.”

Lona asked; “What happened under the carpet, Romeo?.”

Romeo answered with maturity, “At the age of ten, this is enough.”

Though he was unusually angry, the school principal was open-minded. Everyone feared him for multiple reasons, everyone liked him for obvious reasons. At DePaul school Principal Fr. George delivered the most important Thursday sex classes that cleared most student’s doubt’s without paying any additional fee. Being a priest, he could teach the nuances of missionary position with a polite language. He was the best to teach the Grammar - 12 tenses in English without any tension, best to teach grammar of sex and best to teach history. Though the positions were contentious among the senior erudite crowd in the class, it served the purpose.

Beautiful Honda Client

“How much time does it take to complete this work?” Honda asked the question politely.

 “Approximately seven or eight months.”

 “How much?”

 “I mean seven or eight months…”

 She frowned. “7 OR 8”

 “Yes, Yes, 7 OR 8.”

 She raised her voice intensely. “I am asking you; if it is exactly 7 or exactly 8?”

 He thought for a moment. “That way….” biting the nail he continued “It should be 8 months.”

 “Why?”

 He flipped “We can do it in 7 months also”

 “Why?”

 “May I take some time to study this one and tell you later…?”

 “Oh man, you could have said this first instance…”