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Lately I've encountered the phrase going Galt,
which derives from the novel Atlas Shrugged
by Ayn
Rand, published in 1957. Before we get to Galt, we should
address Atlas. In classical mythology, Atlas was a Titan,
one of a race of giants who were overthrown by the
Olympians, led by Zeus.
As one of the losers, Atlas was condemned by Zeus to
bear the heavens and earth on his back. An illustration of
him at work appeared on the title page of a book of maps
published by Rumold Mercator in 1595, and thus the common
noun atlas.
In the Rand novel, an egalitarian and overbearing
American government burdens energetic, creative and
intelligent folks like John Galt, the protagonist. They
withdraw to a remote mountain spot named Galt's
Gulch,
loosely based on Ouray. Colo.
These Atlases shrug from carrying the burdens of the world, and civilization begins to disintegrate.
It's an appealing fantasy when you're 16, as I was when I read its thousand-plus pages. At that age you're sure you're going to grow up to be a commanding Atlas, rather than some sniveling wimp who suffers from altruism, pity, piety and similar deviations from Rand's Objectivism.
Some scholar has doubtless noted the similarities
between Rand's Atlas heroes and the Ubermensch (the
overhuman
who transcends the morality of the herd)
in the writings of German philosopher Frederick Nietzsche,
more than 70 years before Rand's novel appeared.
But such analysis would take far too much space for a
newspaper column, and so we move to the prospect that some
of our superiors will decide to go Galt.
Should we be worried?
For one thing, there's the old saying that the
graveyards are full of indispensable men.
Granted,
there have been great discoverers and inventors with great
discoveries and inventions. Sir Isaac Newton devised
calculus in the 17th century -- but so did Gottfried
Leibniz, working independently. Alexander Graham Bell
invented the telephone -- filing his patent application the
same day as Elisha Gray's. The singular great person
theory often breaks down upon a close reading. Thus
there's little reason to worry about the withdrawal of some
current Galt, since others might well be ready to step up
to the plate.
For another, what if the contemporary Atlases did hide in the hills and engage their refractor beam to keep us from noticing them? Do they really benefit society?
After all, was it a bunch of moochers who made trillions
of dollars vanish? Or was it some of those brilliant
masters of the universe
at AIG, who are now trying
to get their hands on even more public money?
In Colorado, suppose billionaire Phil Anschutz had
gone Galt'
25 years ago. Without Anschutz, we might
still have service from a Colorado railroad. We might have
been spared the felonies of Joe Nacchio at Qwest, and
USWest retirees might enjoy full pensions.
Or ponder the consequences if Bill Gates and Microsoft
had gone Galt
after his company got hit with an
anti-trust suit in 1998. The Windows monoculture means it's
easy for computer bugs to spread; with computer diversity,
we have a healthier computing environment. Productivity
would have improved. Nearly every time I turn on a Windows
machine to try to do some work, it stalls me by wanting to
install updates, detect new
hardware that's been
there for months, or display an instant message about
Angelina Jolie.
And let's not forget all the security flaws in Windows, or the frequent arrivals of the Blue Screen of Death. As nearly as I can tell, we'd all be better off if various modern Atlases henceforth confined themselves to shrugging in Galt's Gulch.
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