There’s a lot of interest these days in Mormons, with a Broadway play about Mormon missionaries, and two running for president (Mitt Romney and Jon Huntsman). Most Mormons are Republican conservatives, although Harry Reid, the Senate Majority Leader, is a social Democrat.  Whether Republican or Democrat, they usually support immigration controls, the war on drugs, nation-building in foreign lands, and traditional marriage laws.

Are there any Mormons who favor laissez faire and libertarian policies?

I wish to direct your attention to a new book called “Latter-Day Liberty:  A Gospel Approach to Government & Politics,” written by a young libertarian named Connor Boyack and published by Cedar Fort Publishers in Utah.

Boyack is a BYU graduate, and a big fan of Cleon Skousen and our pamphlet “Persuasion vs. Force.”  Generally, Boyack is more libertarian than conservative.  In addition to citing libertarian passages from Mormon scripture and Church leaders, he has extensive chapters on war, immigration, illegal drugs, as well as commentary on controversial subjects such as Christian Communism, Prohibition, and the Welfare State. In the appendix of “Latter-Day Liberty,” he reprints President Ezra Taft Benson’s classic “The Proper Role of Government,” which is libertarian in tone.

It is so well written and persuasive that I agreed to write the foreword when he approached me earlier this year.  This is the first time I’ve agreed to write an introduction to someone else’s work.The book has been endorsed by Congressman Ron Paul, FEE, and the Mises Institute, among others.

For more information on the book, go to the website, www.ldsliberty.org.

“Latter-Day Liberty” is available on Amazon for only $12.23, plus S&H.  Amazon has several positive reviews.

Connor Boyack will be a featured speaker at FreedomFest next year (July 11-14, 2012, Las Vegas).

Dear Friends of Liberty,

Be one of the first to watch this new video, ObamaCare – Live Your Carefree Lifestyle at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkH_aaaSOP0. This video is brought to you by FreedomFest, the World’s Largest Gathering of Free Minds, happening this July 13-16, 2011 at Paris/Bally’s in Las Vegas, the country’s most libertarian city.

This year’s conference will feature speakers such as: John Mackey, CEO Whole Foods, Stephen Moore, editor, Wall Street Journal, Judge Andrew Napolitano, Fox News, libertarian billionaire Peter Thiel, co-founder of Pay Pal and Steve Forbes, publisher of Forbes Magazine. You don’t want to miss it! Plus see the first ever Anthem Film Festival — a libertarian celebration of film.

With so much at stake, and with so much excitement at FreedomFest, I hope you’ll join us! And watch the new video. Let us know what you think!

Yours in liberty, AEIOU,

MSkousen

“Capitalism is turning luxuries into necessities.” — Andrew Carnegie

Watching the shouting matches occurring at the town hall meetings across America, do you ever wonder why nobody holds town hall meetings or writes complaining letters to Congress about food and housing?

After all, food and housing are even more important than medical help.  Most Americans don’t need to go to the doctor every day, but you do need to eat every day and live under a roof.

Read the entire article on Human Events Online.

Suggestion – Liberty Magazine
The Necessary Evil
by Mark Skousen

Today libertarians spend most of their time lamenting the consequences of big government. And rightly so. Today government is less a defender of freedom and more a Hobbesian leviathan that undermines prosperity. When we do talk about limited government, it is often seen solely as “a necessary evil.”1 Too much government and the economy chokes. Too little, and it cannot function. Is there a Golden Mean?

George Washington best summarized the libertarian view: “Government is not reason; it is not eloquence; it is force! Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master.”2 So it is with some trepidation that I suggest that societies or countries may not have enough good or legitimate government. In the never-ending battle against big government, it might be well to consider what constitutes “good government” to see how far we have strayed from the proper role of the state.

Each year the Fraser Institute publishes their Economic Freedom of the World Index (see www.fraserinstitute.org), which measures five major areas of government activity in more than 100 countries: size of government, legal structure, sound money, trade, and regulation. The most surprising thing about the study, according to its author James Gwartney, a professor of economics at Florida State University, is the importance of legal structure as the key to maximum performance for an economy. “It turns out,” he told me in a recent interview, “that the legal system — the rule of law, security of property rights, an independent judiciary, and an impartial court system — is the most important function of government, and the central element of both economic freedom and a civil society, and is far more statistically significant than the other variables.”

Gwartney pointed to a number of countries that lack a decent legal system, and as a result suffer from corruption,insecure property rights, poorly enforced contracts, and inconsistent regulatory environments, particularly in Latin America, Africa, and the Middle East. “The enormous benefits of the market network — gains from trade, specialization, expansion of the market, and mass production techniques — cannot be achieved without a sound legal system.” 3

The Proper Role of the State

Milton Friedman identifies the legitimate roles of the state: “The scope of government must be limited. Its major function must be to protect our freedom both from the enemies outside our gates and from our fellow- citizens: to preserve law and order, to enforce private contracts, to foster competitive markets. Beyond this major function, government may enable us at times to accomplish jointly what we would find it more difficult or expensive to accomplish severally.” 4

Adam Smith suggests that this “system of natural liberty” will lead to a free and prosperous society. As Smith declares, “Little else is required to carry a state to the highest degree of opulence from the lowest level of barbarism, but peace, easy taxes, and a tolerable administration of justice.”5

The division between the positive and negative role of government can be represented visually. In the diagram on the next page, we have on the vertical axis “socio-economic well-being”: some general measure of the quality of life in a free and civil society. For empirical studies, economists might want to use changes in real per capita income, but this may be too confining. On the horizontal axis we have “government activity.” At point O, we have zero government, and as we move along the horizontal axis, the size and scope of government activity increase. The ultimate extreme is the totalitarian regime, which institutes “total government,” though I would hesitate to label this “100% government,” since no government can control all activity.

Too Little vs. Too Much Government

My thesis is that as a society moves from zero government to point P, economic well-being increases to peak performance. Then, as it adopts a larger and less necessary government, its growth diminishes, and can even turn negative if government becomes too burdensome and controlling. Looking at the left side of the mountain, point O (zero government) to P (optimal government) constitutes “too little” government. For example, a nation may spend too few of its resources on personal protection, property control, and government administration. Here we see how increasing the size and scope of government activity initially leads to increased well-being, as measured by individual freedom and prosperity. Point P represents the right amount of government and the optimal amount of expenditure necessary to fulfill its legitimate functions.

This is the ideal of the minimalist state. Any point to the right of P represents too much government, when the central authority becomes a burden rather than a blessing. I’ve drawn it as a gradual downward slope, so that the more bad government a country adopts, the greater the decline in performance, even to the point X where government is so large and so intrusive that it results in the destruction of economic and social well-being, which is probably worse than the costs of anarchy.

Quantifying the Right Amount of Government

Can we quantify P, the optimal size of government? Several economists have attempted to determine the ideal level of government spending as a percentage of GDP. In the1940s, Australian economist Colin Clark said that the maximum size of government should not exceed 25% of GDP. Anything higher would hurt economic growth.6 Professor Gerald W. Scully, of the University of Texas at Dallas suggests that the tax rate ought not to exceed 23%.7 World Bank economists Vito Tanzi and Ludger Schuknecht analyzed 17 countries during the period 1870 to 1990 and concluded that public spending in newly industrialized countries should not exceed 20% and in industrialized countries not more than 30%.8 Is optimal government (point P) the same for every country?

This would make an interesting study, but I suspect that differences in culture and socio-economic circumstances suggest that some nations require more government than others. As Benjamin Franklin states, “A virtuous and laborious [industrious] people may be cheaply governed.”9 And a lazy, dishonest people must be expensively governed.

Graph

Optimistically, I would think that if all nations were featured together on the diagram above, the various points P would constitute a fairly narrow mountain range. Almost every country in the world today is to the right of Point P, and could grow faster and enjoy a higher quality of life by reducing the size and scope of government. Countries from China to Ireland to Chile have demonstrated how dramatically the economy can improve by cutting back the state. I’m sure even Hong Kong, #1 in the Fraser Institute’s study in terms of performance and freedom, could benefit from some improvements by scaling back some types of government services.

According to the latest surveys of economic freedom by the Fraser Institute and Heritage Foundation, countries on average are becoming more free, and not surprisingly, the world’s economic growth rate is rising.10 After noting that government represents 40–50% of GDP in most developed nations, Tanzi and Schuknecht conclude, “we have argued that most of the important social and economic gains can be achieved with a drastically lower level of public spending than what prevails today.”11

Two Case Studies in Little or No Government

Are there any examples of countries to the left of point P, that have too little government? The United States suffered from too little government under the Articles of Confederation, which was the basic law of the land from its adoption in 1781 until 1789, when they were replaced by the Constitution. The Articles limited the federal government to conducting foreign affairs, making treaties, declaring war, maintaining an army and navy, coining money, and establishing post offices. But it could not collect taxes, it had no control over foreign or interstate commerce, it could not force states to comply with its laws, and it was unable to payoff the massive debts incurred during the Revolutionary War. States were already putting up trade barriers, striking a serious blow to free trade, and the economy struggled. After the Constitution became law, the United States flourished because of improved government finances, protection of legal rights, and free trade among the 13 states.

A modern-day example of too little government is Somalia, located east of Ethiopia and Kenya, where life has been difficult and often dangerous without any central authority since 1991. For example, drivers pass seven checkpoints, each run by a different militia, on their way to the capital. At each of these “border crossings” all vehicles must pay an “entry fee” ranging from $3 to $300, depending on the value of goods being transported. Competing warlords vie for control of the countryside, which has frequently collapsed into civil war. Only an estimated 15% of children go to school, compared to 75% in neighboring states. However, a recent report by the World Bank indicates that an innovative private sector is flourishing in Somalia. This vindicates the Coase theorem, named for economist Ronald Coase, which argues that in the absence of government authority, the private sector will step in to provide alternative services, depending on the transaction costs.12 The central market in Bakara is thriving: all kinds of consumer goods, from bananas to AK-47s, are readily sold; mobile phones proliferate and internet cafes prosper. But with no public spending, the roads and utilities are deteriorating. Private companies have yet to appear to build roads — the transaction costs are apparently too prohibitive. Public water is limited to urban areas, and is not considered safe, but a private system extends to all parts of the country as entrepreneurs have built cement catchments, drilled private boreholes, or shipped water from public systems in the city.

There are now 15 airline companies providing service to six international destinations, and airplane safety can be checked at foreign airports. After the public court system collapsed, disputes have been settled at the clan level by traditional systems run by elders, with the clan collecting damages. But there is still no contract law, company law, or commercial law in Somalia. Sharp inflation in 1994–96 and 2000–01 destroyed confidence in the three local currencies, and the U.S. dollar is now commonly used. Because of a lack of reliable data, neither the Fraser Institute nor the Heritage Foundation’s economic freedom indexes rank Somalia. The World Bank concludes, “The achievements of the Somali private sector form a surprisingly long list. Where the private sector has failed — the list is long here too — there is a clear role for government intervention. But most such interventions appear to be failing. Government schools are of lower quality than private schools. Subsidized power isbeing supplied not to the rural areas that need it but to urban areas, hurting a well-functioning private industry. Road tolls are not spent on roads. Judges seem more interested in grabbing power than in developing laws and courts. Conclusion: A more productive role for government would be to build on the strengths of the private sector.”13

In short, most countries could use less government, but a few countries could use more of the right kind of authority. There is an optimal size and structure of government, and when it is reached, the result is, in the words of Adam Smith, “universal opulence which extends itself to the lowest ranks of the people.”14

Atlas Shrugged – 50 years later – At a time of rampant collectivism, Ayn Rand renewed the promise of liberty. But her ethics are dangerous. When Ayn Rand finished writing “Atlas Shrugged” 50 years ago this month, she set off an intellectual shock wave that is still felt today. It’s credited for helping to halt the communist tide and ushering in the currents of capitalism. Many readers say it transformed their lives. A 1991 poll rated it the second-most influential book (after the Bible) for Americans. Read article below.

Atlas Shrugged – 50 Years Later
by Mark Skousen
Christian Science Monitor
March 6, 2007

When Ayn Rand finished writing “Atlas Shrugged” 50 years ago this month, she set off an intellectual shock wave that is still felt today. It’s credited for helping to halt the communist tide and ushering in the currents of capitalism. Many readers say it transformed their lives. A 1991 poll rated it the second-most influential book (after the Bible) for Americans.

At one level, “Atlas Shrugged” is a steamy soap opera fused into a page- turning political thriller. At nearly 1,200 pages, it has to be. But the epic account of capitalist heroes versus collectivist villains is merely the vehicle for Ms. Rand’s philosophical ideal: “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.”

In addition to founding her own philosophical system, objectivism, Rand is honored as the modern fountainhead of laissez-faire capitalism, and as an impassioned, uncompromising, and unapologetic proponent of reason, liberty, individualism, and rational self-interest.

There is much to commend, and much to condemn, in “Atlas Shrugged.” Its object – to restore man to his rightful place in a free society – is wholesome. But its ethical basis – an inversion of the Christian values that predicate authentic capitalism – poisons its teachings.

Mixed lessons from Rand’s heroes

Rand articulates like no other writer the evils of totalitarianism, interventionism, corporate welfarism, and the socialist mindset. “Atlas Shrugged” describes in wretched detail how collective “we” thinking and middle-of-the-road interventionism leads a nation down a road to serfdom. No one has written more persuasively about property rights, honest money (a gold-backed dollar), and the right of an individual to safeguard his wealth and property from the agents of coercion (“taxation is theft”). And long before Gordon Gekko, icon of the movie “Wall Street,” she made greed seem good.

I applaud her effort to counter the negative image of big business as robber barons. Her entrepreneurs are high-minded, principled achievers who relish the competitive edge and have the creative genius to invent exciting new products, manage businesses efficiently, and produce great symphonies without cutting corners. Such actions are often highly risky and financially dangerous and are often met with derision at first. Rand rightly points out that these enterprising leaders are a major cause of economic progress. History is full of examples of “men who took first steps down new roads armed with nothing but their own vision.” In the novel, protagonist Hank Reardon defends his philosophy before a court: “I refuse to apologize for my ability – I refuse to apologize for my success – I refuse to apologize for my money.”

But there’s a dark side to Rand’s teachings. Her defense of greed and selfishness, her diatribes against religion and charitable sacrificing for others who are less fortunate, and her criticism of the Judeo- Christian virtues under the guise of rational Objectivism have tarnished her advocacy of unfettered capitalism. Still, Rand’s extreme canard is a brilliant invention that serves as an essential counterpoint in the battle of ideas.

The Atlas characters are exceptionally memorable. They are the unabashed “immovable movers” of the world who think of nothing but their own business and making money. “… I want to be prepared to claim the greatest virtue of them all – that I was a man who made money,” says copper titan Francisco d’Anconia. But these men are regarded as ruthless, greedy, single-minded individualists. They are men (except for Dagny Taggart, who could be confused for a man) who always talk shop and give scant attention to their family. In fact, no children appear in Rand’s magnum opus.

Her chief protagonist, John Galt, is an uncompromising superman. He is the proverbial Atlas who holds the world on his shoulders. He has invented a fantastic motor, yet is so frustrated with state authority that he withdraws his talents – hence the title, “Atlas Shrugged” – and spends the next dozen years working as a manual laborer for Taggart International.

Mr. Galt somehow succeeds in getting the world’s top capitalists to go on strike and, in many cases, strike back at an increasingly oppressive collectivist government. Rand’s plot violates a key tenet of business existence, which is to constantly work within the system to find ways to make money. Real-world entrepreneurs are compromisers and dealmakers, not true believers. They wouldn’t give a hoot for Galt.

Rand, of course, knows this. And that’s OK, because “Atlas Shrugged” is about philosophy, not business. In her world, there are two kinds of people: those who serve and satisfy themselves only and those who believe that they should strive to serve and satisfy others. She calls the latter “altruists.”

Rand is truly revolutionary because she makes the first serious attempt to protest against altruism. She rejects the heart over the mind and faith beyond reason. Indeed, she denies the existence of any god or higher being, or any other authority over one’s own mind. For her, the highest form of happiness is fulfilling one’s own dreams, not someone else’s – or the public’s.

Galt crystallizes the Randian motto: “I swear by my life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man nor ask another man to live for mine.” No sacrifice, no altruism, no feelings, just pure egotistical selfishness, which Rand declares to be supreme logic and reason.

This philosophy transcends politics and economics into romance. The novel’s sex scenes are narcissistic, mechanical, and violent. Are the lessons of her book any way to run a marriage, a family, a business, a charity, or a community?

To be sure, Rand makes a key point about altruism. A philosophy of sacrificing for others can lead to a political system that mandates sacrificing for others. That, Rand shows with frightening clarity, leads to a dysfunctional society of deadbeats and bleeding-heart do-gooders (Rand calls them “looters”) who are corrupted by benefits and unearned income, and constantly tax the productive citizens to pay for their pet philanthropic missions. According to Rand, they are “anti-life.”

But is the only alternative to embrace the opposite, Rand’s philosophy of extreme self-centeredness? Must we accept her materialist metaphysics in which, as Whittaker Chambers wrote in 1957, “Randian Man, like Marxian Man, is made the center of a godless world”?

No, there is another choice. If society is to survive and prosper, citizens must find a balance between the two extremes of self-interest and public interest.

Adam Smith, the founder of modern economics, may have found that Aristotelian mean in his “system of natural liberty.” Mr. Smith and Rand agree on the universal benefits of a free, capitalistic society. But Smith rejects Rand’s vision of selfish independence. He asserts two driving forces behind man’s actions.

In “The Theory of Moral Sentiments,” he identifies the first as “sympathy” or “benevolence” toward others in society. In his later work, “The Wealth of Nations,” he focuses on the second – self-interest – which he defines as the right to pursue one’s own business. Both, he argues, are essential to achieve “universal opulence.”

Smith’s self-interest never reaches the Randian selfishness that ignores the interest of others. In Smith’s mind, an individual’s goals cannot be fully achieved in business unless he appeals to the needs of others. This insight was beautifully stated two centuries later by free-market champion Ludwig von Mises. In his book, “The Anti-Capitalist Mentality,” he writes: “Wealth can be acquired only by serving the consumers.”

Golden rule anchors true capitalism

Smith’s theme echoes his Christian heritage, particularly the Golden rule, “Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matt. 7:12). Perhaps a true capitalist spirit can best be summed up in the commandment, “Love thy neighbour as thyself” (Lev. 19:18; Matt. 22:39). Smith and Mr. von Mises would undoubtedly agree with this creed, but the heroes of “Atlas Shrugged” – and their creator – would agree with only half.

Today’s most successful libertarian CEOs, such as John Mackey of Whole Foods Markets and Charles Koch of Koch Industries, have adopted the authentic spirit of capitalism that is more in keeping with Smith than Rand.

Theirs is a “stakeholder” philosophy that works within the system to fulfill the needs of customers, employees, shareholders, the community, and themselves. Their balanced business model of self- interest and public interest shows how the marketplace can grow globally in harmony with the interests of workers, capitalists, and the community – and can even displace bad government.

The golden rule is the correct solution in business and life. But would we have recognized this Aristotelian mean without sampling Rand’s anthem, or for that matter, the other extreme of Marxism-Leninism? As Benjamin Franklin said, “By the collision of different sentiments, sparks of truth are struck out, and political light is obtained.”

John Galt – it’s time to come home and go to work.

• Mark Skousen has taught economics at Columbia University and is the author of the new book, “The Big Three in Economics.”

]]> http://www.mskousen.com/2007/03/atlas-shrugged-50-years-later/feed/ 3 http://www.mskousen.com/2000/05/too-many-free-market-think-tanks/ http://www.mskousen.com/2000/05/too-many-free-market-think-tanks/#comments Mon, 29 May 2000 02:13:05 +0000 Mark Skousen http://www.mskousen.com/?p=890

Personal Snapshots
FORECASTS & STRATEGIES
May 2000

by Mark Skousen

“Stimulating independent thought… is being done by all too few individuals and institutions, not only in the U.K. but here in the U.S. as well.” — Milton Friedman (1981)

Donating money to a few of my favorite free-market organizations used to be a pleasant duty, but now I’m literally inundated with demands from hundreds of think tanks and public-policy groups, all vying for my limited funds. Maybe you’re wondering if we really need so many foundations and political organizations.

Back in 1946, there was only one free-market organization in the United States: the Foundation for Economic Education, run by Leonard Read. If you were a classical liberal, you wrote for The Freeman (now Ideas for Liberty) and contributed to FEE. (I write a regular column called “Economics on Trial”; to subscribe, call 800/452-3518, only $35 a year! Or see their web site, www.fee.org) But then along came a British chicken farmer, Sir Anthony Fisher (1915-1988), who established the Institute of Economic Affairs in London. Tony was so enamored with the idea of setting up free-market foundations that he created an organization for the very purpose of creating more institutes around the world: The Atlas Economic Research Foundation, based in Fairfax, Virginia.

Over 350 Institutes in over 50 Countries

By going to their web site, www.atlas-fdn.org, you’ll discover its virtual directory, which contains the web site links of hundreds of public-policy institutes in 50 countries. Of course, the big names are there, such as Heritage, Cato and the American Enterprise Institute. But you’ll also find dozens of smaller, lesser-known groups in Europe, Asia and Latin America.

Think tanks sometimes have an objective name, like the Independent Institute or the National Center for Policy Analysis, while others are purposeful and include in their title terms like reason, liberty, sound economy or free enterprise. Others are named after a location like Manhattan or Mont Pelerin. Many are linked to famous classical liberal philosophers like Adam Smith, Ludwig von Mises, Friedrich Hayek, Henry Hazlitt, James Madison, Alexis de Tocqueville, Lord Acton and Edmund Burke.

Atlas Leads the Charge

The Atlas Foundation doesn’t think there are enough think tanks. It has a section of its web site devoted to showing you how to set up your own institute. In “The Need for More Institutes,” Atlas quotes Milton Friedman (see above). I noticed several free-market think tanks devoted to environmental issues. None of them are very big. Maybe if they combined forces, they could offer a countervailing power” to the Sierra Club or Earth First.

The Growth of State Think Tanks

There are two strong arguments favoring an ever-growing number of educational foundations and public-policy think tanks. First, the wider number of institutes, the greater the ability to specialize and fulfill the needs of reformers. Adam Smith made this point in The Wealth of Nations. An expanding market permits greater specialization and higher consumer satisfaction.

For example, state and local organizations can deal with local issues. Recently a proliferation of state think tanks have attracted substantial sums and made valuable contributions: The Mackinac Center in Michigan, the James Madison Institute in Florida, the Sutherland Institute in Utah, the Cascade Policy Institute in Oregon. Clearly, these organizations are making fresh contributions and avoiding duplication.

Second, increased competition not only means more specialized demands are being met, but the total amount of contributions to free-market causes is maximized.

What is the optimal number of think tanks? The market test is the ultimate decision-maker: whatever the market will bear. Apparently the optimal level has not been reached. When I asked Mary Thoreau of the Independent Institute, “Are there too many think tanks?” her reply was succinct: “Is the world free? Is competition bad?”

LIBERTY – The First Galt’s Gulch Film Festival
Special report from the First International Libertarian Film Festival.

By Mark Skousen

GALT’S GULCH, COLORADO–What better location for the first libertarian film festival than Atlas Shrugged‘s Atlantis, the hidden valley high in the Rockies to which the world’s most productive individualists repaired when they went on strike?

Ragnar Danneskjold, the philosopher turned pirate, was the first to suggest the idea. “Gentlemen, we’ve been stuck here in this boring place for over 30 years, and the world still hasn’t begged us to return.” He closed the book he was reading, How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World, and stood up. “Fellow libertarians, or classical liberals, or Objectivists, or whatever we are, I’m sick and tired of sitting around reading philosophic tomes and self-help manuals. Let’s have a film festival! Every night we’ll see a different picture.”

Francisco d’Anconia, the industrialist turned playboy turned revolutionist, seconded the motion. “Great idea, Rag! If I hear one more note from Richard Halley’s Fifth Concerto…”

It was the first time in years that everyone had agreed on anything. John Galt, puffing madly on a gold cigarette, insisted that each film be strictly benevolent and life affirming in nature. “Our standards must be objective!” he shouted. “A is A!”

Word quickly spread, and Galt’s band of industrialists, scientists, doctors, and philosophers met at Midas Mulligan’s private theater the next evening. His library consisted of several thousand films; most of them pirated by Ragnar Danneskjold. The theater was a cozy little screening room that held approximately 50 guests. Surrounding the theater were photographs and posters of famous stars, including Gary Cooper, John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, and Farrah Fawcett (signed “Please, Ayn, let me play Dagny”).

By 7:00, the place was packed. Luminaries included industrialist Hank Rearden, oil magnate Ellis Wyatt, composer Richard Halley, movie actress Kay Ludlow, and Dr Thomas Hendricks. The last to appear was Dagny Taggart escorted by John Galt. She was still in an arm sling, recovering from another airplane accident. “I’m completely helpless without you, John,” she whispered, staring dreamily into his blue eyes. “I’11 pretend you never said that,” Galt responded, blowing smoke in her face.

Ragnar Danneskjold started things off. To qualify as a libertarian film, he said, a movie should offer protagonists who are rugged individualists and non-conformists, questioning the rules of society. They must be independent thinkers who unabashedly support their own self-interest and are reluctant to meddle in the affairs of others. Naturally, they will be skeptical of organized religion. Libertarian heroes should be uncompromising defenders of laissez-faire capitalism. They should champion the right to pursue the creation of wealth without guilt. Finally, they must oppose state power in all its forms, including the evils and injustices of war.

“Given these qualities, it may not surprise you to learn that most libertarian films have unhappy endings,” he warned the audience.

“Isn’t that a contradiction?” asked Rearden. “Don’t we believe in a benevolent, life-affirming universe?” The others remained silent.

Ragnar announced that he had uncovered a dozen films in the Atlantis library that in his judgment contained libertarian themes. A film was shown each night, followed by discussion and sometimes-heated debate.

First Night: Shenandoah (1965), 105 min., color. Directed by Andrew V. McLaglen. Starring Jimmy Stewart, Doug McClure, Katharine Ross, Patrick Wayne, and George Kennedy.

“This is a superb film that contains all the libertarian themes,” asserted Ragnar.

The storyline: The Andersons are hardworking, honest, independent farmers minding their own business, when the Civil War breaks out. The father (Jimmy Stewart) is a widower who honors his wife’s last request to attend church every Sunday and to say grace at dinner every night. While Anderson is skeptical of religion, he believes in honoring a contract, whether verbal or written. His libertarian prayer is a classic:

“Lord, we cleared this land, we plowed it, sowed and harvested it, and we cooked the harvest; it wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be eating it if we hadn’t done it ourselves. We worked dog-bone hard for every crumb and morsel, but we thank the Lord just the same for the food we’re about to eat. Amen.”

This prayer is repeated at the end of the movie, but it seems rather hollow after the Andersons have suffered the pains of war.

The Andersons are anti-war, anti-draft, and anti-state. They are Virginians, so they won’t support the North, yet they don’t own slaves, so they refuse to fight for the South. They don’t believe in the draft, although they are free to volunteer: “My sons don’t belong to the state.” They don’t believe in the government: “We never asked anything of the state, and we don’t figure we owe anything to it either.” They are anti-war: “Like all wars, the undertakers are winning it. The politicians talk about the glory of it, the old men will talk about the need of it. … The soldiers, they just want to go home. ” They are isolationists:

“They’re on our land?” asks Mr. Anderson.

“No,” responds a visiting Confederate officer.

“Then it doesn’t concern us.

“When are you going to take this war seriously?”

“This war is not mine.”

The audience greeted this dialogue with thunderous applause. “Bravo!” shouted Hank Rearden.

When Federal agents come on the Andersons’ property to confiscate their horses, using authority granted by an Act of Congress, one of the Anderson boys asks his dad, “What does confiscation mean, Pa?” He answers, “Stealing.” The Andersons refuse to turn over the horses and a fight ensues. The federal agents are driven off. Eventually, the Andersons feel obligated to enter the war when the youngest son is taken prisoner by the Northerners. At the end of the film, they get a taste of the horrors of war. Two sons are killed and a daughter-in-law is brutally assaulted.

“In short,” Ragnar summarized at the end, “it is nearly impossible to escape the evils of war, even if you try to mind your own business.”

No one could argue with that, and the film festival adjourned with everyone giving Shenandoah five stars.

Second Night: The Americanization of Emily (1964), 117 min., black & white. Directed by Arthur Hiller. Starring James Garner, Julie Andrews, James Coburn, and Melvyn Douglas. Screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky.

The second film was more controversial.

“This is the best anti-war movie ever made,” proclaimed Richard Halley.

“How can you consider cowardice a moral imperative?” Again, it was Rearden who spoke.

At issue was the personal philosophy of Charlie Madison (James Garner). The story is about  “dog-robbers,” personal valets to American generals and admirals, in Britain during World War II. The plot focuses on the relationship between American Commander Madison, personal assistant to Admiral Jessup, and Emily, a British Navy staff member. Madison is a promiscuous opportunist who has no interest in the war and is, in fact, a complete cynic. Emily (Julie Andrews), on the other hand, represents the traditional view — that the Allies are fighting an honorable and virtuous war against the evil Axis and that all good citizens and soldiers must be willing to sacrifice for the good of the war. When Charlie offers Emily some Hershey candy bars (unavailable to the general public), she refuses. When he makes advances, she slaps him. “I think it’s profane to enjoy this war,” she tells Charlie. She notes that Charlie does whatever is necessary, including bribery, to get his way or provide black-market goods (filet mignon) and services (prostitution) for his admiral. “You’re a complete rascal,” she says. In response, Charlie calls Emily a “prig. ”

“This film reminded me of the book, Overpaid, Oversexed, and Over Here,” commented Rearden. “It’s a book about American GIs in World War II Britain. I’d hardly call them heroes. Does Charlie Madison have any scruples, any admirable qualities?”

“Yes, I’11 defend him,” Richard Halley said. “Charlie Madison is to be honored for his eloquent condemnation of war, the stupidity of war. Besides, I like the music.”

In response to Emily’s self-righteous stance, Madison states, “I’ve had Germans and Italians tell me how politically ingenuous we are, but we haven’t managed a Hitler or Mussolini yet. This war … is the result of 2,000 years of European greed, barbarism, superstition, and stupidity. Don’t blame it on our Coca-Cola bottles.” In a conversation with Emily’s mother, he declares, “I’m not sentimental about war. I see nothing noble in widows.”

“What are your religious views?” Emily’s mother asks.

“I’m a practicing coward. ”

Madison condemns war. “We must resist honoring the institution of war. … We must condemn the traditional heroism of self-sacrificing soldiers.” Rather, Madison elevates selfishness and self-preservation as supreme virtues. “It’s not greed and ambition that makes wars, it’s goodness. … As long as valor remains a virtue, we shall have soldiers.”

Later he proclaims the value of an amoral lifestyle: “Life isn’t good or bad or true, it’s merely factual. It’s sensual, it’s alive…. I want to know what I am, not what I should be.” As he leaves Emily, he tells her that he wants to be remembered as one “unregenerately eating a Hershey bar. ”

Most of the audience roared with approval. Dagny stood up in the darkened room, and it was her lips that said, “He is the ideal man!” John Galt remained silent.

In the end, Emily is “Americanized.” She adopts his philosophy regarding war. She goes to bed with him. Speaking fondly of Charlie’s memory, she says, “We no longer take pride in death in this house. What was admirable about Charlie was his sensation of life, his cowardly, selfish, greedy appreciation of life.”

As the applause died down, Rearden took exception to Charlie Madison’s character. “Despite Madison’s eloquent condemnation of war, what about Charlie himself? Is his denunciation of war simply a justification of his cowardice? The Andersons in Shenandoah were never chicken. They were willing to fight for what they believed in. Moreover, when he miraculously survives Normandy, will Madison be faithful to his bride? Or will he remain a wheeler-dealer in civilian life? Libertarianism must not be equated with a libertine lifestyle! Liberty does not mean license! Charlie Madison is not my kind of hero.”

But even as Rearden spoke, the audience was giving The Americanization of Emily a standing ovation.

Third Night: Hombre (1967), 111 min., color. Directed by Martin Ritt. Starring Paul Newman, Fredric March, and Richard Boone.

“I saw this movie years ago,” commented Midas Mulligan. “Hombre is my favorite western.”

The storyline: John Russell (Paul Newman) is an Apache-raised “hombre” returning to a white man’s world. Russell is not afraid to defend his honor or to use a gun.

“He’s not a coward like Charlie Madison,” yelled Hank Rearden.

“Hush!” shouted Quentin Daniels, clutching a bag of popcorn in one hand and a cigarette in another.

Russell doesn’t believe in getting involved in other people’s affairs. When a gunslinger threatens a man, demanding his stagecoach ticket, Russell does nothing to help the innocent man. After the event, a witness turns to Russell and says, “You should have done something.”
“Wasn’t my business.”
“But if he had taken your ticket?”
“He didn’t.”
“That soldier would have helped you.”
“I didn’t ask him for any. … I didn’t feel like bleeding for him, and even if it isn’t all right with you.”

On the other hand, Russell, raised by Apaches, defends the rights of Indians. “They live where they don’t want to live.” In the beginning of the film, when a cowboy insults a fellow Indian, he hits him with the butt of his gun.

Hombre does not live by the rules of gentlemen and society. He is an outsider. He feels no obligation to assist other passengers on the stagecoach when they are robbed and left helpless. He shoots two of the robbers, one armed, the other unarmed. He takes off immediately, leaving the others behind complaining that “we are all together. ” They finally catch up with him.

“Now that’s my kind of libertarian,” exclaimed Midas Mulligan. His eyes were wistful again.

When the remaining robbers return to exchange a hostage for money, Russell is uncooperative. They threaten to shoot the hostage. Hombre is undisturbed.
“All right, shoot her…. She’s nothing to me.
“What about the others!”
“They say what they want.

Russell has a code of ethics, however. He keeps the saddlebags of bank notes, which had been stolen from the Indians, not for himself, but to be returned to the Indians, the rightful owners.

At the end of the film there’s a stalemate between the robbers and the passengers. Everyone except Russell turns out to be a coward, unwilling to exchange the money for the hostage. Finally, the stalemate is resolved when Russell takes the risk and sacrifices himself. His heroic, selfless act results in his demise. He is killed.

“You see what happens when men abandon their self-interest and sacrifice for humanity? Is that what you call virtue?” It was John Galt who spoke, and three hours later he was still speaking. The others remained silent.

Fourth Night: Cool Hand Luke (1967), 126 min., color. Directed by Stuart Rosenberg. Starring Paul Newman and George Kennedy. Screenplay by Donn Pearce and Frank R. Pierson, based on the novel by Donn Pearce.

Ragnar introduced the film, another Paul Newman appearance as a nonconformist libertarian. “In this case, the film tells the tragic — no, I mean the benevolent and life-affirming story of an individualist who, like many freedom loving souls, has tremendous potential yet fails to achieve it.”

“I’ve never planned anything in my life,” comments Lucas Jackson (Newman). His record indicates that he started as a buck private in the army, earned a Purple Heart in World War II, yet ended his stint the same way he started — as a buck private. Why did he tear off the heads of parking meters in a small town, landing him in a prison camp? “Settling an old score,” he responds, implying an act of revenge against the state, perhaps motivated by the war years. Lucas Jackson’s problem is that he can’t conform to official authority, which he characterizes as “lots of guys laying down a lot of rules and regulations.” The rules are often bureaucratic and nonsensical. When Luke is put into the one-man box overnight, after his mother passes away, a guard tells him, “Sorry, Luke, I’m just doing my job.” Luke responds, “Calling it a job don’t make it right.”

In prison, Luke quickly becomes a leader. He’s the best poker player among the prisoners. He meets incredible challenges (“I can eat 50 eggs”) and never gives up, even when he’s beat (the boxing match).

Luke doesn’t blame others for his problems. “What I’ve done I’ve done myself” he tells his distraught mother. “Man’s got to go his own way.” Luke must work out his own salvation. But the unrepentant prisoner is skeptical of God and religion. He goes into a church alone. “Anybody here?” he yells. There is no answer. Life is unfair, he concludes.

“You’ve got to learn the rules,” he is told. But Luke is a social misfit–opposed not to ordinary people, but to the state. “What we have here is a failure to communicate,” says the warden in a famous line. Luke disrupts the state prison system and pushes state officials to the limit of tolerance. Finally, they destroy him.

“I remember someone like that,” said Hank. “Back at Rearden Steel.”

“I’m not sure I understand this film’s ideological context.”

The hesitant voice was that of Dr. Thomas Hendricks, the famous surgeon. “In Hombre, the libertarian is killed when he finally comes to the rescue of someone who needs help. In Cool Hand Luke, just the opposite occurs: the libertarian is killed when he refuses to conform to society. Libertarians can’t win no matter what.”

Galt’s eyes narrowed. “We never said our lot would be easy,” he said. “Here, Doc, have a cigarette.”

The evening’s performance ended with a question. “Which actor has done more libertarian movies than anybody else?” asked Ragnar.

Nominations included Clint Eastwood, Gary Cooper, John Wayne, Humphrey Bogart, Errol Flynn, and Farrah Fawcett.

“Sorry, you’re all wrong,” Ragnar said. “It’s Paul Newman! Tomorrow we’ll be seeing his third libertarian film.”

Fifth Night: Sometimes A Great Notion (1971), 114 min., color. Directed by Paul Newman. Starring Paul Newman, Henry Fonda, Lee Remick, Michael Sarrazin, and Richard Jaeckel. Based on the novel by Ken Kesey.

“If you think last night’s film puts libertarians in a bad light,” commented Ragnar, “Wait until you see this evening’s picture. You’ll see what Paul Newman really thinks of libertarians.”

“Newman isn’t a libertarian!” yelled Kay Ludlow, the movie actress. “He isn’t even a good actor!”

“Perhaps so,” Ragnar replied. “As a matter of fact, in this film the Henry Stamper family, imbued with the libertarian philosophy, is placed in a highly unfavorable light.” The lights went down and the film began.

Henry Fonda plays an irascible, stubborn father who lives by the family motto, “never give an inch.” He heads an independent family logging operation in Oregon that is anti-union, anti-socialist, and anti-feminist (the women have little or no influence, and hardly ever talk). But they are hard working men of their word who don’t violate their contracts. Consequently, they become scabs when the rest of the community joins in a union strike.

The Stamper family is against anyone telling them what to do, whether a “commie, pinko” government or a threatening labor union. Hank (the oldest son, played by Newman) sardonically talks back to the union leaders: “You’re going to tell us when to stop cutting, who to sell to, and pat our little bottoms and tell us what good little boys we are.

In the final analysis, the family never gives an inch, but as a result Hank loses a father, a brother, and a wife. He also fails to help a theater-owner who later commits suicide. Despite paying this high price, Hank is defiant to the end.

“You must never compromise your principles,” declared John Galt at the end of the movie, “no matter what the price.”

“I’m afraid the price is too high for me.” Everyone turned and stared at the face of Francisco d’Anconia.

Sixth Night: Brazil (1985), 131 min, color. Directed by Terry Gilliam. Starring Robert De Niro, Jonathan Pryce, and Rim Greist. Screenplay by Terry Gilliam, Tom Stoppard, and Charles McKeown.

“This surrealistic story is the best dystopian film I’ve ever seen,” declared Ragnar. “The plot, full of black comedy, is far more entertaining and exciting than the stereotyped attempt to put George Orwell’s classic on the silver screen. The cinematography and production designs are dazzling. It’s a visual feast of imagination and creativity.”

Instead of being ruthlessly efficient, the central authority in Brazil gropes incompetently through a nightmare of paperwork, unreliable services, and a bloated and incredibly complex infrastructure. Nothing works — a vivid reminder of the old Soviet Union. Despite the government’s hoard of advanced weapons, the ubiquitous spy machines, and federal police galore, the underground survives and even thrives. The black market engineer (De Niro), referred to by state operatives as a “terrorist,” is never caught. However, a government clerk (Pryce), who holds fast to his ideals and his Dream Girl (Greist), is tortured and destroyed.

“Brazil paints a picture of the future that is much more believable than Nineteen Eighty-four,” Ragnar commented at the end of the presentation.

“Even more believable than Atlas Shrugged?” The darkened theater was too thick with smoke for anyone to recognize who said it.

Ragnar’s eyes narrowed, but he continued. “The storyline includes no-knock break-ins by federal SWAT teams, national ID cards required for all citizens, constant monitoring through X-ray machines, everyone living in tall apartment complexes, etc. But you also witness bureaucratic mix-ups, thriving black markets, and underground opposition. You can see it coming. It’s eerie.”

“Eerier than Atlas Shrugged?” But the theater was still too thick with smoke.

Seventh Night: The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), 102 min., color. Directed by Michael Curtiz and William Keighley. Starring Errol Flynn, Olivia de Havilland, Basil Rathbone, Claude Rains, and Patric Knowles.

Ragnar bravely introduced the film. “Several pictures have been made about Sir Robin of Loxley, the outlaw of Sherwood Forest, including a recent effort by Kevin Costner, but nothing compares to the original, dynamic Errol Flynn version. He’s my kind of hero!”

“He’s the ‘hero’ that we tried to kill!” It was Francisco’s voice that protested.

“I remember that movie,” said Midas Mulligan.

Francisco remained silent.

Robin Hood’s oath, “To take from the rich and give to the poor,” sounds more like standard fare of the Clintonistas than a libertarian creed. But, like many libertarian heroes, Sir Robin is misunderstood–even by Ayn Rand. The real story, clearly revealed in this film version, is that Sir Robin of Loxley is not simply an outlaw who stole from the rich, but a fighter against unjust taxation and other acts of oppression by the forces of the state, Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham. Conforming to the legend, the twelfth-century Norman authorities impose unbearable fares on the Saxons, beating and torturing them, raping their women, and confiscating their property when they refuse to pay. A law is passed making it a capital crime to kill the king’s deer in Sherwood Forest, even if the hunter is starving. Robin’s band of merry men oppose this oppression, and their efforts to “steal from the rich” are in reality aimed at recapturing the tax monies that are rightfully theirs in the first place. The bold rascal Robin Hood isn’t a reckless outlaw, but a brave patriot. “I’II organize revolt,” he proclaims before Prince John and his entourage. “I’II never rest until I strike a blow for freedom.”

“You speak treason,” asserts Maid Marian.

“Fluently,” replies Sir Robin.

“There’s only one problem with this picture,” muttered Lawrence Hammond, the automobile magnate, glancing warily at Midas Mulligan, who had saved Hammond’s non-competitive business with a well-timed loan of a hundred pounds of gold. “What does Robin Hood do with the tax money he seizes? Does he keep it himself or does he return it to its rightful owners?”

“Better ask Ragnar about that,” said Mulligan. Ragnar had recently opened his own bank.

In this version, King Richard the Lion Hearted is being held for ransom in Europe, and the merry men decide to use the money to pay it off Richard is viewed as a benevolent king who ousts Prince John and reestablishes peace and liberty when he returns. Yet this is the same King Richard who has left England to lead the Crusades against the “infidels.”

Dagny ground her cigarette into her popcorn. “This is an unjustifiable act of religious intolerance and imperialism, an act that no libertarian can justify,” she declared. “Under these circumstances, The Adventures of Robin Hood, however well-performed, cannot be viewed as an entirely satisfactory libertarian film.”

“Aw, pipe down,” said John Galt. “I’11 do the talking in this family.”

“All right,” replied Ragnar, “if you don’t like this version of Robin Hood, you still might enjoy tomorrow night’s alternative. Stay tuned!”

Eighth Night: The Mark of Zorro (1940), 93 min, black & white. Directed by Rouben Mamoulian. Starring Tyrone Power, Basil Rathbone, and Linda Darnell.

“The story of Zorro has been produced on the silver screen numerous times, but nothing beats the 1940 version with Tyrone Power,” said Ragnar.

“That’s your opinion,” said John Galt.

Diego Vega, son of a rich plantation owner, returns from Spain to learn that his honorable father has been deposed as Alcalde of Los Angeles and replaced by tyrants who “make the people more industrious” by imposing heavy taxes (shades of Bill Clinton). Those who can’t pay are tortured and jailed (shades of Janet Reno). His father is an old traditionalist, a stickler for law and order, and refuses to fight back. “Two wrongs don’t make a right.

But the young, debonair, and tepid Diego becomes the brave, resourceful outlaw Zorro at night, recapturing the gold that the rulers have stolen from the “peons.” What does he do with the money?

“That’s what I’d like to know!” exclaimed Midas Mulligan. Ragnar remained silent.

“This gold was wrung from the peons, he tells the local padre. “It’s up to us to restore it to them.”

The story ends when the peons, under Zorro’s leadership, storm the mayor’s headquarters and reappoint Diego’s father as Alcalde.

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Midas Mulligan. “Clearly, Zorro does not suffer from bad motives, as is the case with Robin Hood — and some other people I might mention. I give The Mark of Zorro five stars.”

Ninth Night: Cash McCall (1959), 102 min., color. Directed by Joseph Pevney. Starring James Garner, Natalie Wood, and E.G. Marshall. Based on a novel by Cameron Hawley.

Ragnar stood in front of the crowded theater. “Attention all you unrepentant greedy capitalists Hank Rearden, Ellis Wyatt, Lawrence Hammond, Dwight Sanders! This is your kind of show!”

“And you too, Midas!” shouted Francisco. Francisco had a childlike, benevolent, life-affirming innocence, despite his enormous debts.

Cash McCall (Garner) is the quintessential misunderstood business tycoon. As a takeover artist and financier, a cross between Howard Hughes and Michael Milken, he is feared and loathed by the public, the media, his business partners — even school kids, who have made up a nursery rhyme about him. He is viewed as a vulgar, fast buck, unscrupulous, cold-hearted robber baron that takes over companies, lays off workers, and sells the enterprises at a hefty profit. At the beginning of the picture, McCall is being investigated by the IRS for tax evasion. Later he is accused by his fiancée, Lory Austen (Natalie Wood), of being unfaithful.

“I’m a thoroughly vulgar character, Cash McCall says, playing on his public image. “I enjoy making money. “So do I!” said Kay Ludlow.

“When the hell did you ever make any money?” asked Dagny. “You wouldn’t have gotten to your auditions if I hadn’t given you a railroad pass!” “Aw, pipe down!” interjected John Galt. “Give ‘er a break, will ya’?” Kay Ludlow smiled.

But the reality of the man is completely different from appearances. Cash McCall is, in fact, an efficient, shrewd businessman with a high standard of personal and business ethics. He admits that he is not a “company man.” As an independent financier, he likes to “buy old companies, whip them into shape, and sell them.” But there is nothing shady about him. He honors his commitments and doesn’t try to hide things. He gives potential sellers a chance to get out of his deals. Cash has an opportunity to take advantage of Lory when they first meet, but refrains.

Unlike many other libertarian films, this one actually has a happy ending.

“That’s the most beautiful film I’ve ever seen,” said Kay Ludlow. Dagny remained silent. She was remembering all the times John had refused to take advantage of her.

Tenth Night: Ben Hur (1959), 212 min., color. Directed by William Wyler. Starring Charlton Heston, Stephen Boyd, Jack Hawkins, Haya Harareet, Hugh Griffith, and Martha Scott.

“How in the devil could you include a religious film, Rag?” demanded John Galt. “You never really were one of us, were you?”

“But it’s so romantic,” said Kay Ludlow. “And so realistic, too!”

“Well, maybe you’re right,” said John Galt. “It might be benevolent and life-affirming.”

Dagny Taggart suddenly stood up. “Religion is the opiate of the masses. I’m leaving!” She put out her cigarette and exited the theater, followed by Francisco.

“Have an open mind,” pleaded Ragnar, oblivious to John and Kay’s increasingly harmonious ideological trends. “This movie actually has an underlying libertarian theme.”
The hero, Prince Juda Ben Hur (Heston), is the wealthiest man in Jerusalem, having obtained his wealth honorably as a merchant. He treats his servants as friends and stewards, not as slaves. When Ben Hur is confronted by the new Roman commander Messala (Boyd), his boyhood friend, he defends his country’s right to be free from foreign oppression: “Withdraw your legions, give us our freedom.” Ben Hur is opposed to violence, but will not turn informer and reveal the names of dissident Jews. “They are not criminals — they’re patriots” he explains.

Messala offers Ben Hur power and protection if he will betray his people, but he cannot be bought. “I’d rather be a fool than a traitor.

Ben-Hur has personal integrity. He refuses to kill Messala in cold blood, even though he has the opportunity. He becomes a Roman citizen when he saves the life of the Roman fleet commander Quintus Arias. But he returns his adopted father’s ring after coming back to Jerusalem. He will not take part in the Roman policies of slavery and tyranny.

“Still, he is a thorough-going, practicing Jew, a member of an irrational faith,” Rearden asserted after the film was over.

“It is the only thing that keeps him alive,” explained Ragnar. “The Jewish demand for revenge. It’s life-affirming.”

“Religion denies an objective, rational world — and requires faith in things you cannot see or feel,” insisted Galt. “That’s right,” Kay murmured.

“Granted, Juda Ben-Hur is a true believer in God, but he bases his belief on real evidence — such as the event at Nazareth where he is miraculously given water by the carpenter. That’s one of the most moving scenes ever filmed. And note how skeptical he is about the new Christian religion. He does not believe until he actually sees a miracle his mother and sister are healed of leprosy. Only then do bitterness and hatred leave his soul, allowing him to become a happy man again.”

The debate continued into the night in the midst of a smoke-filled room, although John, Dagny, Francisco, and Kay were no longer present.

Eleventh Night: Dark of the Sun (1968), U.K, 101 min., color. Directed by Jack Cardiff. Starring Rod Taylor, Jim Brown, Yvette Mimieux, and Kenneth More. Based on the novel by Wilbur Smith.

Ragnar Danneskjold was excited about the eleventh night’s presentation. “It’s my favorite movie — an action film full of violence, intrigue, and romance!”

“Better than Rambo, Dirty Harry, and Rooster Cogburn?”

“Much better!”

This is the story of four mercenaries, men who fight and die for anybody, for any cause, anywhere — if the price is right. In this story, they hunt diamonds, they hunt cannibals, and they hunt each other. Ostensibly, they are paid to rescue a community deep in war-torn Congo under threat of attack by vicious rebels, flesh-hungry cannibals; but they also have a clandestine objective of bringing out a load of priceless diamonds. The action is fast-paced, the music is haunting, and the train scenes ale unforgettable.

“This is my kind of life,” proclaimed Ragnar.

“I’d love to be on that train right now,” exclaimed Dagny Taggart.

“Me too,” said Francisco, taking the empty seat next to her.

The mercenaries are men without hope who discover that it is never too late. One finds the strength to die like a man, although he has lived his whole life in fear. Another rediscovers self-respect and the chance to start over again, and the third (Bruce Curry, a role magnificently performed by Rod Taylor) finds that he can love again. Still, the story line ends in violence and tragedy. He who lives by the sword must die by the sword. The question is, can there be any salvation for men who commit the vilest of sins?

“I told you most libertarian films have sad endings,” commented Ragnar.

“Can we expect anything different for us?” Richard Halley asked. Everyone knew the composition of his new opera, Frank O’Connor, was not going well.

Twelfth Night: The Fountainhead (1949), 114 min., black & white. Directed by King Vidor. Starring Gary Cooper, Patricia Neal, and Raymond Massey. Screenplay by Ayn Rand, from her novel.

Everyone applauded when Ragnar announced the festival’s last film. “It’s about time!” said Dagny Taggart.

“It’s about time!” added Francisco d’Anconia.

Ragnar agreed. “A libertarian film festival would not be complete without showing the movie version of Ayn Rand’s philosophical novel about Howard Roark, the iconoclastic architect,” he said.

Roark, like Van Gogh or Michelangelo, refuses to give in to popular artistic design: “I don’t care what they think of architecture, or anything else.” Roark’s standards are so demanding and provincial that he has great difficulty in finding work. “I don’t have clients in order to build, I build in order to have clients.”
“I don’t get it” Quentin Daniels interrupted. “I thought capitalism works because the producer responds to consumer needs. Is Howard Roark anticapitalist?”

“You have a lot to learn, young man,” responded Galt. “Roark sets the highest standard. If the public doesn’t buy it, he will do something else — just as all of you are doing other things here in Atlantis.”

“That’s right!” said Kay Ludlow.

“And what are you doing, my dear?” inquired Dagny.

“The Fountainhead is supposed to be symbolic,” Richard Halley added. “It’s about the moral strength of the individual against the mediocrity of the masses.”

“That’s right — mediocrity,” said Dagny.

“That’s right — mediocrity,” said Francisco.

Roark is the unbridled individualist, the “supreme egoist,” opposed to all forms of self-sacrifice or charity: “I don’t give or ask for help.” The final speech of Howard Roark, “The Individual vs. the Collective,” is delivered with great fervor.

“In a true libertarian society, there would be no government welfare system, that I know,” said Hank Rearden. “But are there to be no charitable organizations, no churches to help the needy?”

“Of course not, Hank. What’s got into you anyway? You’re starting to sound like your wife!” Kay smiled smugly at Galt’s words.

“It’s obvious that Hank is right!” shouted Dagny, snuffing out two cigarettes.

Francisco d’Anconia was disturbed about another aspect of the film. “Frankly, fellow libertarians, the sex in this movie stinks!  Dominique Francon appears incapable of showing real feeling and love. Sex with Roark is impersonal — only afterwards does she discover who he is. Who would want that kind of relationship?”

Dagny looked nervous as Francisco continued talking. “Can you imagine spending weeks alone in an empty country house? What a bore! To Dominique, freedom is empty; it is to want nothing, to depend on nothing. If this film were in color, there would still be no warmth.”

“Oh, who the hell wants color?” Dagny interjected.

Ragnar interrupted. “You might be interested in knowing that Miss Rand didn’t like the outcome of the film either, even though she wrote the screenplay. She wanted Greta Garbo to play the part of Dominique, and she hoped Frank Lloyd Wright would do the architectural designs. Some rank amateur produced some horrible modernistic work instead.”

“You mean she compromised her principles?” asked Rearden. No one replied.

On the thirteenth night, the audience gathered by the light of kerosene lamps. “How romantic!” said Kay Ludlow, but Galt did not reply. Dagny, too, remained silent.

After protracted debate about the morality of voting, an informal poll showed Cash McCall barely topping Shenandoah for Best Libertarian Picture. Paul Newman was voted Best Actor and Farrah Fawcett won Best Actress in a Future Libertarian Film.

John Galt reluctantly congratulated Ragnar Danneskjold for his choice of movies. “But of course,” he added, “the search for the ideal libertarian film won’t end until Atlas Shrugged has been produced.”

“And we can all play ourselves, Kay Ludlow sighed.

The throng of individualists trailed out into the fresh night air. In the distance could be seen the yellowish sign _ of a gold dollar, hovering high in the valley. A man appeared out of nowhere and approached the house, his glossy eyes looking straight ahead at John Galt.

He asked simply, “Who is Cash McCall?”

LIBERTY