During the past week or so, as the inauguration of Donald Trump took place against the near hysteria of opponents, what has characterized editorials, marches, and public confessions of faith by famous Hollywood Stars? That’s right—name calling.
Speaking to the “Women’s March” on Washington, the day after Mr. Trump was sworn into office, Hollywood actress Ashley Judd seized a microphone and hissed, referring to the new President of the United States:
“I am not as nasty as racism, fraud, conflict of interest, homophobia, sexual assault, transphobia, white supremacy, misogyny, ignorance, white privilege…. I am not as nasty as your own daughter being your favorite sex symbol, like your wet dreams infused with your own genes.”
Ayn Rand’s literary genius—in fiction and, if possible, still more in nonfiction—manifested itself in command of suspense, philosophical action, evocation of complex sensory experiences, a tone of conviction absent in modern fiction, brilliant parody, lethal satire, and—I am arbitrarily cutting short the list, here—invective.
Invective, or name calling, is a literary device that has been practiced for centuries. I am going to resist the amusing examples. Shakespeare was a master; so was Jonathan Swift. It is easy to find classic instances of name-calling as literary art.
Ayn Rand was a master of literary invective without peer in our time—a consummate name-caller. That is just one of many complaints of her “critics,” who usually have read (at most) one book, and attack her as mean-spirited and adolescent for name calling.
But like all literary devices surviving for millennia, some since ancient Greece and Rome, invective has roots in our conceptual faculty—the analyzing, integrating, learning, storing, and recalling human mind. Like all products of conceptualizing, invective to be valid must be traceable back to reality, that which exists independent of the mind. To create true invective is to name something and what is named must exist.
Judd’s list fails this test. It is doubtful she can cite one concrete action or behavior of Mr. Trump named by her outpouring of mostly politically correct scare terms. Most of her terms refer to alleged intentions, to imputed mental states, to alleged patterns of thought; they do not name demonstrated behavior. Any credibility they seem to possess derives from the rumors, accusations, and innuendoes swirling around Mr. Trump during the election. Most had no content to begin with (racism); others were discredited by investigation of the facts (mocking a disabled reporter); other invoked a bizarre double-standard of judging behavior (the furor over a comment about women).
Frankly, I hate to spend more time on this, but the media’s obsessive focus on instances of Mr. Trump supposedly being politically incorrect forced the entire election process to dwell on such matters. For example, many women find Trump’s quoted comments about sex offensive. An incident on the Howard Stern show has been cited thousands of times. In 2003, when his daughter, Ivanka, was 22, a widely admired and photographed model, often in provocative poses, the famously outrageous Stern asked Trump about her. “She’s beautiful,” said Trump, and repeated, “She’s beautiful.”
Stern asked, “May I say: “a piece of ass”?
Trump said, and I quote in full, “Yeah.”
A father famous for his racy casinos, beautiful wives, and popular reality TV show permits himself to acknowledge, “Yeah,” that is the woman the world sees in hundreds of hot photographs. Later, he says, sure, if he were a young bachelor again, he would be attracted to Ivanka.
I am not offended. By standards of our society—what is shown and the language used on prime-time TV shows, for example—this is the mildest language; but I can’t argue that you should not be offended. I do argue that these instances do not remotely support Judd’s vicious insinuation that Trump is obsessed with incestuous sex with his daughter—the clear meaning of “your own daughter being your favorite sex symbol, like your wet dreams infused with your own genes.”
This is the hate—for the political humiliation of the Left—that dare not speak its name.
Ayn Rand seldom aimed invective at individuals; her genius was to identify and name a pattern of thought (usually as displayed in writing)—the “anti-conceptual mentality”—an ideology—“The Fascist New Frontier,” the “anti-industrial revolution”—argumentation—“The Art of Smearing”—the character of a policy—“Anti-Trust: The Rule of Unreason”—the nature of a principle—racism as “barnyard collectivism”—a relationship—“The Pull Peddlers”—or the state of a country—“Our Cultural Bankruptcy.”
Notice that most of these examples are titles of essays, an indication of the paramount importance she gave to powerful invective. Dozens more could be named: “Activists: The Headless Horsemen,” “The Comprachicos,” and “Bootleg Romanticism.”
So powerful was her art of giving a name or label to what had been nameless, that for decades thousands of her students have made the terms part of their vocabulary of thought and teaching—and some terms are now widely used outside of Objectivism. An example is Rand’s naming “the Fascist New Frontier”—identifying for the first time that the socialism replacing freedom in the United States is not the Russian-Chinese-(and for a time) British model of public ownership of the means of production. It is the economic system under National Socialism in Germany and in fascist Italy. It is difficult to think of a more revealing and far-reaching example of invective—daring to name something—in a single title of an article.
Ayn Rand’s grasp of the nature of concept formation included understanding that naming as such is indispensable to the conceptual level of consciousness. Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology, the most accessible and inspiring work on the theory of knowledge that I know, demonstrated how “concepts” are mental integrations of similar particular entities that we perceive. By identifying similarities in the attributes of all chairs, for example, and distinguishing them from everything else we perceive, we meld a literally limitless number of particulars into a single new mental entity. But a final step is required to nailed down in our mind, and language, that new integration. We give it a spoken/writer tag, a name: “chair.”
Ayn Rand formed concept after concept to enable us to think in new ways about the world, to reason, argue, integrate areas of thought. I have taken as a prime example of her outpouring of conceptual creativity her genius with the literary form called invective: name calling as technique of literary attack. Ayn Rand made invective a “consciousness-raising” but also entertaining aspect of all her writing. Who can forget the “moochers,” “witch doctors,” “evaders,” “looters,” “pull peddlers” and their “blank-out,” “whim worship,” and “concrete-bound” mentality. As our Postmodernist intellectual “elite” and caretakers of the altruist/collectivist ideal in America square off, in years ahead, to battle the tentative, hopeful, but still dangerously unconceptualized rebellion of the American people, names and labels will fly.
To accurately name an as-yet-unidentified aspect of that battle can be powerful. Making explicit the concept of the “politically correct” and “crony capitalism,” for example, has given the Postmodernists, including the media, big headaches. Perhaps, too (it is far too early to tell), will the term “fake news.”
To make a new conceptual identification that is urgently needed, but which no one has pinned down as yet with a name, is a remarkable achievement of thinking. It is an indispensable step in empowering reason in debate.
Stephen Hicks, The Postmodern Assault on Reason
David Kelley, Is Trump for Real
William R Thomas, The Literary Art of Ayn Rand: (2nd edition)
David Kelley, Rand and Objectivity
About The Author: Walter Donway
Walter Donway, one of the first trustees of the Atlas Society, is a novelist, poet, and writer about contemporary issues from the perspective of Objectivism. His articles for TAS publications, his presentations at summer seminars, and his contributions to this site can be found in the archives. His most recent book, Not Half Free: The Myth that America is Capitalist, with a preface by David Kelley, is a comprehensive look at loss of economic freedom in America; it is available on Amazon.
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