Who Is John Galt (Part 3 of 3)

In many ways we are traveling back in time.

I began this series in the modern City of Guelph Ontario with the discovery of a statue honoring John Galt.

I then discovered that novelist Ayn Rand had visit the area 60 years ago and that this John Galt was the inspiration for the name of her central character in the novel Atlas Shrugged.

Wanting to learn more about the real John Galt took me back to the early 19th Century and the discovery that the John Galt who founded Guelph held views that were almost the diametric opposite of those Rand had championed in her novel.

Among the ideas the real John Galt advocated was the then new philosophy of John Stuart Mills known as Utilitarianism.

Now I want to go back even further in time and explore the connection between Utilitarianism and the most popular of all Roman gods, the goddess Fortuna.

Or "Lady Luck", as she's now known (and still worshiped) in Vegas.

Most people today have never heard of Fortuna. When they think of Rome they think of Jupiter or Mars or Venus, Rome's great gods of state. And certainly these were the gods the Romans officially worshiped, but they were not the god the Romans worshiped the most.

In terms of the amount of tribute, in terms of the number of shrines, the goddess uppermost in the minds of most Romans was the Goddess Fortuna.

The morality required by the worship of Fortuna will seem very strange to us today. Following a Judaeo-Christian tradition the rules of morality were literally cast in stone. Read the Ten Commandments and you know the will of God in advance of your behaviour. Not so with Fortuna, the goddess of good (and bad) fortune.

Let's take a mundane example. You are at an ATM withdrawing twenty dollars when the machine starts spitting out hundreds of twenties. The lobby of the bank fills with money. Morally what are you to do?

Today it would seem obvious. The money does not belong to you so the morally correct choice is to return it. Thou Shall Not Steal, is the expressed will of God.

But to the ancient Romans the proper moral choice would not have been so obvious. Fortuna was a fickle goddess. You could not know what the right and proper and moral action would have been until after you had acted. You would know it by the way Fortuna rewarded you for your behaviour.

If Fortuna did not want you to have the money and you kept it, you would be arrested and charged.

On the other hand if Fortuna wanted you to keep the money because she wanted to punish the Bank for its greed you would be performing a moral act and would get away with it, living long and certainly prospering. Keeping money that wasn't yours would have been a moral act sanctioned by the gods.

In Roman times no one knew what was morally correct until after taking action and suffering the consequences. It was the consequences Fortuna applied to the preceding actions that revealed their morality. Morality was a matter of interpreting Fortuna's shifting moods.

But what has this to do with John Galt?

Simply this, the ancient moral code of the goddess Fortuna was the inspiration for Mills philosophy of Utilitarianism. the belief that the moral worth of an action is solely determined by its contribution to overall utility, that is, its contribution to the happiness or pleasure of the greatest number of people. It is a form of consequentialism, meaning that the moral worth of an action is determined by its outcome—the ends justify the means.

This is Fortuna's moral code in modern guise, with this exception, that now Mills believed he had understood the mind of the goddess and knew her expectation.

It is a strange world we live in.



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Who Is John Galt (Part 2 of 3)

Alisa Rosenbaum had a problem.

Her novel The Fountainhead had achieved major success and she was deep into the planning of her next work, Atlas Shrugged. But the hero of the new novel lacked a name and for her the name of the hero was critical.

The name had to be strong and short and romantic. "Howard Roark", the name of the central protagonist of The Fountainhead, was perfect. Because the very name of the hero of Atlas Shrugged would be critical to the plot, his would have to be even better.

Alisa was living in California at the time where she had been making a living working in the movie industry for many years, most recently overseeing the movie version of The Fountainhead.

In the mail one day, she received a fan letter from a young Canadian boy named Nathan Blumenthal. Intrigued by the quality of the letter, Alisa invited Nathan to her home for a visit. The visit lead to friendship and more and to Ayn paying a return visit to Nathan's home in Southern Ontario.

It was during that visit that Rand chanced upon the name of the founder of the neighbouring town of Guelph Ontario, Scottish novelist John Galt.

For her the name was perfect, strong and original. Alisa herself had chosen a new name, Ayn Rand, after immigrating to America from Russia. Nathan Blumenthal would also rename himself Nathaniel Branden, and go on to write a series of best selling books on Psychology. The proper name conveying the proper image was critical, especially for the hero of Atlas Shrugged.

However, it is doubtful Rand knew much about Galt, whose name she appropriated. Her Galt would be the enemy of religion and mysticism in general. Her Galt would be the champion of reason, individualism and Laissez-faire capitalism.

John Galt, the Scottish novelist, was a religious man who built the Town of Guelph Ontario around the church. The hero of his most successful novel was a Scottish Parson. A failed businessman, Galt's novels were often light and humourous.

He was also, philosophically, an advocate of utilitarianism, the idea that the moral worth of an action is solely determined by its contribution to overall utility, that is, its contribution to happiness or pleasure as summed among all persons. It is a form of consequentialism, meaning that the moral worth of an action is determined by its outcome—the ends justify the means.

There were few philosophical ideas that came in for more scathing criticism from Rand than Utilitarianism.

For those with a love of irony, you've just struck the mother-load.



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Who Is John Galt (Part 1 of 3)

The opening words of Ayn Rand's massive 1957 philosophical novel, Atlas Shrugged, pose the following question-- "Who is John Galt?"

In the context of the novel the words have become a popular phrase that means, roughly, the equivalent of the sarcastic current phrase "Who knows?" Meaning there are some things that are just beyond us, that have no rational answer.

However, those characters in the novel who are strong enough and intelligent enough and determined enough eventually discover that John Galt actually exists and in finding out who he is, their lives are, not transformed, but unfettered.

Yet John Galt is more than the protagonist of Ayn Rand's novel. Rand learned about him during a visit to Southern Ontario. He is an actual man who lived a real life and accomplished amazing things. Even if some of those amazing things would not sit at all well with Rand's philosophy.

Born in Aryshire Scotland in 1779, Galt moved to Canada in 1826 as secretary to the Canada Land Company. He carried out extensive schemes of colonization, and opened up a road through the dense forest between Lakes Huron and Erie. In 1827 he founded the town of Guelph, and along the banks of the Grand River, the township of Galt, named after him by the Hon. William Dixon.

Despite all this work Galt was not a successful at business and returned to England in financial ruin. In 1829 he began to devoted himself to literary pursuits immediately achieving great success with his first novel "Lawrie Todd". Then came "Southennan", a tale of Scottish life in the times of Queen Mary.

Encouraged he went on to write other novels, biographies and an autobiography and to become one of the most popular novelist of his time. Although his works are seldom read today, his popularity came to rival that of Sir Walter Scott and Galt eventually retired to Greenock, where he continued writing until his death on April 11, 1839. His entire literary career packed into the last 10 years of his life.

Guelph. the little farming town he founded, is now a small but vibrant City in southern Ontario and is home to my youngest daughter and her family.

When we go shopping in the downtown core of the City, we pass by John Galt's statue which stands proudly outside City Hall in a pose that might be worthy of a Rand character. His hand is outstretched because he used the outline of his hand as the model for the downtown core of the city, roads radiating away from the palm like the fingers on his hand.



Tomorrow I'll explore how Rand came to Southern Ontario, discovered John Galt and came to use his name as the central character in her novel.

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Lost Generation

The snow was light but persistent. All the way in to work on the GO Train, I watched it fly past the window, wondering how the day's accumulation would impact on the ride home. The snow was as cold and depressing as the thought of shoveling my driveway again, in the dark, after a long day at the office.

Once I arrived at work, the opposite of cold and depressing grabbed me before I could get my coat off.

"Barry!" Debbi was nearly bouncing with excitement.

"Yes?"

"You gotta come and see this," She grabbed me by the arm. "You'll love it. It's so simple but really powerful..."

She dragged me into her office and then went off stalking anyone else foolish enough to have arrived early for work. In the end she only found Rose.

"So what are we here for," I asked. Rose was standing in a puddle and busy brushing large white flakes of snow off the shoulder of her winter coat while looking as puzzled as I.

"This," said Debbi, hitting the play button on a YouTube video....

About Me (Part 3 of 3) My Best Quality

"Remember how you were telling me the other day about your worst fault?" Linda asked one day, her hair a little tousled and a dreamy look in her eyes. "Well, do you know what your best quality is?

"I'm a tiger in bed?"

Linda laughed. "No, no. Be serious!"

"I look like Sean Connery?"

Linda laughed harder. "Oh stop it."

"I look a little like Brad Pitt?"

Linda's eyes were starting to water. "Please," she pleaded. "Not even in your dreams!"

"I'm honest and pure?"

"Ya right," said Linda, catching her breath and calming down a little.

"I'm hard working and industrious?"

"I asked for your best quality, not the things that drive me nuts."

"I care about my health and follow my doctor's orders? I don't make fun of your friends even when they deserve it? I never say I told you so? I take my dog for daily runs? I cut the grass without having to be asked?"

"Actually some of those are good qualities, but they're not your best. Although don't get me started on you and your doctor. And what's funny about my friends?"

"Well..."

She cut in, "You weasel, you mentioned that just to change the subject, didn't you? You're embarrassed to know you have a good quality, aren't you?"

"No I'm not embarrassed."

"Yes you are, and you're doing it again! Now stop it! Do you want to know what your best quality is?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "Your best quality is that you like people. You actually deep down really and truly like people. All kinds of people. I don't think there's anyone you've ever met that you didn't like."

Surprised, I thought about it. Surely that couldn't be true. "That can't be right," I said.

"Name one person you ever met that you didn't like?"

"Aside from your sister, you mean?"

"I don't like my sister. You pretend not to like my sister for my sake. But deep down, I think you like even her, right?"

"This doesn't sound like a good quality," I said. "This sounds more like a character flaw."

Linda hugged me. "No," she said. "Its a very good quality. You make people feel good. You make me feel good."

I enjoyed the hug for a moment.

"I'd still rather be a tiger in bed," I said.

"Rowrrrr," said Linda.

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About Me (Part 2 of 3) My Biggest Fault

"You know what my biggest fault is?" I asked Linda.

She was concentrating intently on a painting she has been working on for some time. It's close to being finished but something about it just isn't right and it bothers her.

"Interrupting me when I'm concentrating on something else?" she guessed, continuing to study the painting, gently cocking her head from side to side.

"No, of course not," I laughed. What a sense of humour she has! "I mean my biggest fault."

"Persisting in interrupting me when you see I'm concentrating on something else," she guessed again, her gaze wavering only slightly from her work.

"No my biggest fault. You know, the thing that annoys you the most!"

Linda sighed and put down her paintbrush. She looked at me with an expression I couldn't fathom and sighed again. Then with a look of resignation on her face, she asked, "Walking too fast when we're together so you leave me walking two or three feet behind you?"

"No no."

"Telling my stories when we're at a party, so I have nothing left to say."

"No, that's just being helpful. I mean an actual fault."

"Making me guess things you already know the answer to?"

I laughed again and shook my head. I really love her sense of humour.

"Forgetting to pick up the simple things I ask for at the store? Taking me out to see movies you love and I don't care for? Forgetting to give me messages from my friends when they phone?"

"Not lovable idiosyncrasies, I mean that thing I do that really, really annoys you."

Linda shook her head. "So I haven't guessed it yet?"

"You're not even close!"

"Okay so maybe you'll have to remind me. Obviously this is such an annoying trait I've blanked it out as an act of self preservation, or something." She cast a longing glance at her painting out of the corner of her eye.

With her running out of ideas, some of the fun went out of the game for me. We were having such a good time playing. Women, can be such spoil sports some time. Or maybe I don't have as many faults as I thought?

"You know," I finally told her. "It's when you ask me to do something and I do it right away."

It was Linda's turn to laugh. "Alright, well you're going have to give me some examples of that happening!"

"You remember when your dentist told you we should be using an electric toothbrush, and I ran right out and brought one and you were really annoyed."

The light dawned in Linda's eyes. "Yes, well I wanted a say in the choice of brush we got."

"Yes, yes, I was annoying right? And when you wanted that bookcase taken down and I ripped it out the next day."

"I was just wondering what the room would look like without the bookcase. I wasn't sure I wanted it removed."

I was triumphant! "There, you see, it's my worst trait!"

"Well, that's annoying of you alright. But what about it?"

"I promise not to do that any more."

Linda was startled. Actually shaken.

"I thought I should make some changes in my life," I explained. "And get rid of some of my bad habits."

"And that was the bad habit you planned to get rid of?" Linda shook her head in wonderment. "Actually doing something I ask you to do as soon as I ask you to do it?"

I could see the light of understanding in her eyes. "Exactly! I thought that would please you."

Linda shook her head. "Men," she said, along with something else I didn't quite catch.

I guess she was marveling at what wonderful creatures we are!

It really feels good to know you've made your wife happy.

About Me (Part 1 of 3) The Extreme Danger of Marrying Me

Little did Linda know that in the wake of agreeing to marry me an acausal chain of events would be unleashed that would obliterate every site of importance associated with our marriage.

Entire buildings would be reduced to rubble. People would die.

There was forewarning of the catastrophes to come, but it was ignored.

The day the wedding invitations were to be printed, I got a phone call from Linda, in tears, telling me to call the printer and stop the printing of the invitations. The church where we were to marry had just burned down.

This was Linda's church, where her parents were founding members of the congregation, where her father taught boy scouts, where her mother sang in the choir and where her father's funeral service had been held after his tragic heart attack at 43 years of age. The building was only 10 years old. Eventually the cause would be traced back to faulty electrical wiring in the kitchen. But the building was completely destroyed.

Instead of her beautiful church, set quietly back on a suburban street, we were married in a small Presbyterian chapel on busy Kingston Rd. Two years later that chapel was torn down and replaced with a seniors home.

I hope you're keeping score. The church where we were to marry and the church where we actually were married, have both been destroyed. And that was only the beginning.

Our wedding reception was held at the Broom & Stone golf and curling club. It burned down the next year.

Our honeymoon was at the beautiful Inn on the Park, where six people would soon loose their lives in a tragic and deadly fire. According to the New York Times article, "SIX DIE IN TORONTO HOTEL FIRE: Six people were known dead and about 60 were sent to local hospitals. The fire broke out at 2:35 A.M. and was brought under control about 90 minutes later. Guests had to wait for hours in temperatures of 4-below before being allowed back in the building." It has now been torn down.

Our first home was in the town of Parry Sound. A year after we moved in, it was expropriated by the town for the construction of a mall. Where our house once sat, where I carried Linda over the threshold, where our dog Jenny had her litter of puppies, where we had so many good parties with wonderful friends, is now a mall parking lot.

If it was a curse following us, destroying every place associated with our marriage, the curse ended there. Our next home, in Callander, still stands, as does the home we lived in for eight years in Powassan.

And of course, we still stand. But I think it was a close call.