Brief: Self-determinism vs complicity

Zeth duBois
3 min readMar 6, 2018

He adhered to his principles without regret - in turn, it was the world that did not benefit from his greatest work

When Howard Roark was asked to compromise his designs to appeal to the fad-stylings of the public, he refused. He did not yield to altruism or self-proclaimed noble cause. Neither the wealthy nor the influential could sway him from his determination to only do his best work. Outraged by his self-righteous determinism, he made enemies in the ranks of his peers, between socialites, and opinion writers, who sought his censure. Propaganda drove public opinion to believe that he was too risky to contract, and in time, his business slowed, sliding into financial despair. The rare client who would approach him, claiming to want to hire him for his talents, insisted on superfluous modifications that were not consistent with his design -steadfast, he refused.

Eventually he shuttered his business, choosing to perform manual labor in a rock quarry over subordinate roles in other firms, thus abandoning the profession for which he was best suited.

The book to which I refer, The Fountainhead, is not nuanced. To be honest, it leans heavily into pedantic allegory. Like in fairy tales, the characters are one-dimensional; bad or good, and every plot point is merely a chance to advance the underlying symbolism. If you enjoyed it, it was not for the literary styling, but rather for the gratuitous moral heroism - like watching Master Li Mu Bai easily defeated his enemies with superior swordsmanship and grace.

This reminds me of the real-life story of Hollywood, ala Miramax, that trickles through my filters to fill every incidental glance. To be certain, there’s a cultural reckoning around men and women in the workplace; sickening power-games played by the sexes, physically [dangerously] dominated by men. There’s no denying this. But the cumulative story that I assemble about the Hollywood Monster, is about how both victims and enablers, silently complied, complicated, and held back adequate response. These participants desired to get their work produced, so cooperations with the lusty monster were believed to be a strategic necessity; many compromised themselves for professional gain. How many men were complicit or silent? How many women of power were complicit or silent? How many became victims, relenting, adjusting, hiding? It’s not an easy story to tell or to hear. Today’s Hollywood players must surely operate in a rancid pit of vile deception and compromise.

If this could have unfolded differently, is not my observation. I'm not interested in judging individual acts. Given the number of moving parts, the cultural climates being what they are, it is easy for individuals to be swept up in collective momentum, and loose sight of their own values.

The comparison between a fictional hero swept up in a personal cultural battle, and the real-life fiasco of global image making media empires may be lost on the reader. What I attempt to shed light on is our response after the fact, to the actions and inactions of the players. When Roark encountered unprincipled illegitimate force (albeit cloaked in the guise of virtue) he adhered to his principles without regret. When the total force of irrational players denied him a suitable market, he left the ring. In turn, it was the world that did not benefit from his best work, while he continued to live with integrity.

Yet, as a general rule, it is popular for Roark to be viewed as "selfish" and "anti-social", for unerringly sticking to his values with integrity. Meanwhile we sanctify those who have fallen prey to self-inscribed entrapment. We all make mistakes, and deserve compassion, and kindness, but I suggest we should be wary of idolizing the victim as a champion.

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