In the novel Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand paints American society as comprised of:

(1) a handful of individuals–mostly industrialists–of Promethean ability and drive, who ask no favors, accept no charity, make no excuses, and demand nothing from the world other than to be left alone to do their work without intrusive regulations or confiscatory taxes (we’ll call them “Prometheans”)

(2) a small percentage of the population–foremen, executive assistants, supervisors, line workers–who lack the native talent of the Prometheans, but match their–that is, they ask no favors, accept no charity, and want nothing more than to exchange their efforts for a just return (”just,” of course, meaning a win-win trade of value for value) (we’ll call them “Achievers”)

(3) a large percentage of the population that wants to work for a “fair” wage instead of “just” value–the difference being that these people believe they are entitled to be compensated commensurately with their need, regardless of the value produced by their labor (we’ll call them the “Moochers”)

(4) a fairly small, but significant, percentage of the population–politicians, union bosses, and bureaucrats–who believe that the Prometheans and Achievers have a duty to provide for the needs of themselves and the Moochers, regardless of whether anything of value is given in return  (we’ll call them the “Looters”).

Although the novel is rightly criticized for being, in parts, a thinly disguised polemic with flat characters who serve as little more than a mouthpiece for Rand’s objectivist philosophy (including the infamous 35-page–yes, 35 page–radio address by one of the Promethean protagonists), it captures and defines a single virtue in the same charismatic way a well-cut diamond captures light.

The virtue Rand describes is free video poker how to play backgammon no deposit bonus online casino 888 no download casino play roulette craps game black jack download american roulette play video poker baccarat free casino game no download online casino free money on line casino wagering roulette online online casino betting free online casino slots free craps best casino roulette gambling internet casino gambling uk best casino online full pay video poker no deposit casino code best craps game black jack tournament best online casino site craps online game newest online casino free slots no download play blackjack online free dueces wild video poker black jack gambling online video poker game free casino cash no deposit video poker tutorial play free video poker how to win at black jack casino roulette casino guide how to win at roulette rules of craps casino game onlinemach-zehnder modulator real money backgammon baccarat casino online free video poker game play free video poker video poker odds video poker tournaments earning.  To the extent that vices are distorted, dependent reflections of virtues (may Aristotle forgive me),  earning is the purified form of which robbery is a perversion.  A thief takes at the expense of others.  He contributes nothing, and accomplishes only the transfer of goods without creation.  Only one who earns creates.  He takes his time, his talent, his effort–his life, if you sum the components–and alchemically transmutes them into things or services of value, which he can enjoy or trade to others.  Just as cowardice is parasitic on courage, lust on righteous desire, and lies on honesty, robbery depends upon earning.  Without earning, there is nothing to rob.

Atlas Shrugged simplifies the world’s moral landscape, and tells its story solely through the lens of this moral imperative.  There is much good in Rand’s perspective (as a sidenote, it is also fundamentally flawed.  She is right that earning is a virtue.  She has no basis for her conclusion that it is the only virtue, and the mistake leads her to some scary places).  Rand brings into stark relief the honor we ought to accord the Prometheans and Achievers.  Aside from the fact that we depend materially in every respect on these individuals–on the makers of steel, the designers of tools, the writers of software, the drillers of oil–they are moral examples, like a soldier who displays bravery in battle, a wife who is faithful despite all temptations, and a man who tells truths that should be told, despite the consequences to himself.

Rand’s perspective also undresses the vileness of the Moochers and Looters.  She uses terms we take for granted due to their commonness, like “fairness, “progressive taxation,” “unhealthy competition,” social obligation,” “responsible business practices,” “[everyone’s] right to . . . [xxx],” but in a way that disrobes them from the thoughtless social acceptance in which they typically dress, and exposes them for what they really are.

Synonyms for robbery.

The (compelling) plot of the novel is simple:  through taxation, regulation, fostering of unions, and legion other methods, the Looters seek to benefit the Moochers at the expense of the Prometheans and the Achievers.  Their mantra is simple:  Why should someone who is willing to work do so for peanuts, when others are wealthy?  Why should ability and diligence trump need in the distribution of goods?  To Rand’s credit, several of the Looters act out of a sense of what can properly be called ethics–the world of the Prometheans legitimately offends their sense of fairness.

In response, the Prometheans go on strike.  They simply refuse to exercise their talents.  They disappear, one at a time, or voluntarily reduce themselves to the lowliest forms of manual labor.  The predictable result is that American society starts to decline–slowly at first, then more quickly, as goods and services become scarcer, less dependable, and of lesser and lesser quality.  In the end, vital services like rail transit become so spotty that food cannot be transported reliably, and bare-shelved American supermarkets start to resemble Soviet stores.

In trying to avert crisis, the Looters and Moochers never consider changing–that is, they never contemplate undertaking to earn, to create, or to provide.  Instead, they exercise the coercive powers of the governments they control to try to force the Prometheans to continue producing the goods and services required for society to exist without cataclysmic change.  As a stopgap measure, the government effectively seizes control of large swaths of industry, turns businesses over to coalitions of unions  and second-rate talents, imposes deeply intrusive monitoring, and criminalizes leaving or changing jobs without permission.

This plot device is doubly significant.  On the surface, it advances the march to chaos that is the heart of Rand’s narrative.  On a deeper level, however, these coerced transfers of ownership bring into final, damning focus the worldview of the Looters and the Moochers.  They do not hesitate to seize these businesses.  They do not consider it robbery, and they truly believe themselves justified in taking the confiscatory step.

The reason is that they do not recognize the moral aspect of earning.   Their value system recognizes only need.  They are, therefore, incapable of comprehending why a business ought not be seized, if a “fairer” redistribution of wealth can be accomplished through the seizure.  Similarly, they are incapable of understanding why a business (typically the ones that had been seized) should be allowed to fail, if its workers depend on their paychecks–even if the business, and the workers, are no longer producing anything people are willing to buy.

By the end of the novel, the Looters and the Moochers are frantically trying to legislate back into existence a world that is, without the talents of the Prometheans, no longer physically possible.  They refuse to accept the moral and physical truth that for a good or service to be produced, someone somewhere must do more than need it–he must, with talent and effort, reach into the world and create it.  They also refuse to accept the proposition that, having created a thing, the creator is entitled to keep it or use it for a purpose of his choosing.  The wishful illusion can last only so long–at the novel’s close, the lights of New York go out for the last time.

In a frightening parallel, the United States government has stated plans effectively to seize Chrysler and GM and turn a majority interest of each over to the United Auto Workers in exchange for labor accommodations.  That’s right.  In exchange for accepting cuts to salaries and legacy health care obligations, the UAW gets to own Chrysler and GM.  Rand must be spinning in her well-constructed grave.

The parallel does not end there, however.  Like the fictional Looters, the real-life Washington establishment appears to believe that need is the only virtue.  They appear to hold contempt for the concept that creation gives a right to ownership, or that earning has a moral aspect, and that ownership is its rightful result.  Most frighteningly of all, as shown by occurrences in the auto industry, they appear to believe they can legislate into existence the material future they contend that Americans (and everyone else who makes it across the border) are entitled to, regardless of effort.

They ought to read Atlas Shrugged.