Collectivity: Howard Roark's Sociological Imagination

In the film, The Fountainhead, based on Ayn Rand's book, two philosophies are counterposed and represented by two characters. Ellsworth Toohey, a mover and shaker who believes in the collective and is angered by those who would stray from the standards set forth by the collective. And Howard Roark, an individualist whose insistence that he is in control of his own destiny is so committed that he is willing to sacrifice all he has rather than conform. Rand's simple view of the world cannot contain the story she sets out to tell because film requires interaction and interaction demands collectivity. Thus, the very writing of the book and the very making of the film undermines the message of individuality.

Toohey exclaims, "Artistic value is achieved collectively by each man subordinating himself to the standards of the majority."

Roark defends his position, "No creator was prompted by a desire to please his brothers. His brothers hated the gift he offered. His truth was his only motive. His work was his only goal. His work, not those who used it, his creation, not the benefits others derived from it. The creation which gave form to his truth. He held his truth above all things, and against all men. He went ahead whether others agreed with him or not. With his integrity as his only banner. He served nothing, and no one. He lived for himself. And only by living for himself was he able to achieve the things which are the glory of mankind. Such is the nature of achievement."

Both are wrong and both are right.

There is no doubt that creativity cannot be achieved via compliance. The nature of art and creation of art can only be distinguished from the factory by its breaking out of that container and pushing boundaries outward. Compliance produces duplication and mass appeal, but does little to enrich or please. To suggest that art must bow to the will of the masses is to doom us to a dull life of repetition leading to all sorts of consequences, not the least of which would be plain old boredom. One only needs to travel in the American Southwest or the Yukon to understand that beauty is about diversity and variety. If Toohey really meant what he said, his philosophy would lead us to the most unnatural of existences.

But Rand's insistence on a dichotomy doesn't work because Roark's viewpoint is lacking as well. His own life's story undermines his assertion that he alone controls his creation. Simply recognizing the existence of others in the equation means collectivity is influential. His own baser needs for food, clothing and shelter lead him to menial tasks to make a living. His willingness to do these tasks rather than compromise his art is admirable, but the tasks are still part of the collective and he is dependent upon others to pay him and to make food for him and to rent shelter to him and to sell clothes to him. He is even dependent upon others to allow him to create his art, design his buildings.

Probably the most telling quote in the film is Roark rejects his clients' rights to demand a particular kind of design from him and is told that his uncompromising attitude will cost him business and, possibly, his career:  "I don't build in order to have clients. I have clients in order to build!"

What seems to lost on Rand is that in either case, he needs clients. He needs someone to fund the project. He also needs someone to build the building once the design is complete.  This is collectivity.

Taking a step back from the book and the movie, the very act of creating both undermines the message as well. Rand needed a publisher and readers. After writing, she often spoke in public and thoroughly and obviously enjoyed the interaction with her audience, especially her followers.

The making of the film required collaboration and collective effort. The story could only become a film with a shared vision among those who funded, who directed, who operated the equipment, who acted, who created the sets and so forth. It also required an audience that continues to watch the film years after most of those involved have passed away.

Rand's own life undermines the message as well. Her disdain for the collective did not spring forth from her as a isolated revelation about the true nature of human beings. Her early years in communist Russia shaped her beliefs about the dangers of the collective and led her to glorify the superiority of individualism. Her own experiences with oppression and the strength of her determination to break free from that oppression were the birth pangs of her own artistic vision as an author and speaker.

I actually love The Fountainhead as a film about the complexities of collectivity. It is a wonderful meditation on the tensions between the individual and the collective, the creative and the mundane, achievement and oppression. I'm quite certain that my reading of the film and the story is quite different than what Rand (and probably director King Vidor) had in mind. But that is another joy of art. The unintended consequences that can only be discovered when art is shared.

What does emerge for me when contemplating the film is a basic question (or really set of questions) about collectivity.

Somehow there is a whole as well as parts. As each individual within a particular group acts, something is created that can be understood as the group acting as well. Sometimes the individuals involved are quite aware of the parts they are playing. Both Toohey and Roark have thought long about their positions and have articulated their reasons for their actions. But more often individuals just do things without much thought.

They do things out of habits long ago formed. They do things because it is "the way it is done." They do things because they want to shake things up. Whether mindlessly following traditions that feel natural or reactively rebelling against those traditions, the perceived whole shapes the action of the part and then, in turn, the action shapes the whole.

So, in a sense, the collective is always a sum of the past. It is our way of understanding what has already happened, has already been decided. The present and the future are shaped by this past, but are at the mercy of the actions of individuals. Toohey is just as much an independent actor as Roark. His decisions to promote the collective, to promote the compromise, to promote the mundane is just as proactive as Roark's decision to reject these things as a basis for his designs. Toohey's action shapes the collective as much as Roark's action is shaped by the collective even as each protests the other's positions.

One advantage to developing a sociological imagination is the ability to see these forces and respond to them intelligently. In the end, that is what Roak is doing. He is not acting independently as he asserts. He is reacting just as much as those around are doing mindlessly. But his mindfulness does give him an advantage. His mindfulness of the collective affords him the ability to see that he must stand his ground in order to keep his integrity. He has to see the world not only from his own point of view, but from the point of view of others. He has to understand how his actions and the actions of others are interconnected. He has to see how he fits in the big picture and how his actions can lead to unintended consequences if he does not pay attention to these larger visions. He must actively resist the pressure brought to bear on him and his creativity. In other words, he must see that he is part of a collective system in order to maintain his individuality. That is the essence of sociological imagination. To see one's part is to be empowered to act upon the collective as well as be connected to it.