I Chose Liberty - Ludwig von Mises Institute

220 I Chose Liberty: Autobiographies of Contemporary Libertarians
“Who is this?”
“My name is Tibor Machan.”
“Good bye.”
In my view there is nothing peculiar about Rand’s persona or impact, including some
of their more negative aspects. Obviously, some of her prominent and not-so-prominent
followers did forfeit their independence to a degree. But it should also be noted that a great
many emerged easily enough from that dependency. I think that the emphasis on the cultism
is little more than an ad hominem from people who really should not be tossing around
labels in any case when it comes to the phenomenon of exaggerated personal and ideological
loyalties. (It is often the most rabid factionalists who decry the rabid factionalism of others!)
Almost all great intellects have generated the kind of social upheavals around them that
Rand did. And most have been tempted to lord it over their students or disciples. There is
nothing terribly surprising about this—given how large the egos are of such people, and
how reasonable it is that they should fear being exploited.
Ludwig Wittgenstein, whose philosophy no one accuses of spawning a cult, once taught
at Cambridge University. At the same time, it is reported, Frederick Waismann was also
teaching a seminar in which Wittgenstein’s ideas were being discussed. Wittgenstein is said
to have stormed into the administration offices, demanding that Waismann stop mentioning
him, or else he would immediately leave Cambridge! That’s just one story—for more
one might consult Paul Johnson’s The Intellectuals (a somewhat intemperate and overgeneralizing
book itself).
The internal convolutions in the philosophical movements spawned by brilliant people
such as Marx, Mill, Freud, Wittgenstein, Popper, or Rand are partly a result of the fact that
no one outside the immediate circle of followers cares all that much about the participants’
emotions and thoughts. Of course these figures have their idiosyncrasies—and they may
be culpable for some of the ways their ideas are inappropriately appropriated. But this kind
of problem, I think, is inessential. It is at any rate temporary. Sure, novel ideas and their
creators are usually going to get embroiled in personal feuds, and these will reach a pitch
that hardly matches the normal antagonisms of ordinary men and women. But only because
many more people—namely, all those who are intensely hoping for personal enlightenment
and the salvation that comes from knowing “the great one”—are privy to the intimate
details. In the end, what counts most will still be who if anyone is right on the crucial
questions that these innovators address. And little of the material that has emerged from
discussing their triumphs and foibles instructs us about that.
Ayn Rand’s work has changed my life considerably. It helped me to see my life coherently
and to identify its purpose. Especially given my awful childhood, which involved a great deal
of belittlement and self-doubt, Rand’s affirmation of the value of one’s life and the virtue of
living it by standards of one’s nature as a rational animal, have been very welcome to me. I
doubt I could have lived as happily as I have, even with all the pitfalls, without Rand’s genius
for me to draw on. I will always be grateful to her for what she has done to support the uniquely
American political tradition, one that has helped me and others to stay free of tyranny. (My
book, Putting Humans First, Why We Are Nature’s Favorite, tried to punctuate this point visà-vis
the misguided environmentalist and animal rights movement.)