On Topic: 'Atlas Shrugged' and the motor of the world

John Galt, probably the most famous engineer in fiction, is asked what he would do if he were Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Shrug, he replies.

The comment from one of the characters in Ayn Rand's famous 1957 novel, “Atlas Shrugged,” is electrifying in its tone and in its confidence - or arrogance, depending on your perspective on this controversial book and its author.

The plot of the large novel, in case you somehow escaped it in your college readings, concerns Dagny Taggert, who's trying to save the family railroad business, and Hank Reardon, head of Reardon Steel who has invented a new metal stronger than the world has ever seen. Because he won't share its secret formula, competitors and the federal government try to bring him down.

Oh, and Dagny and Hank fall in love.

Meanwhile, smart people - the engineers, the managers, the “prime movers” of the world - are disappearing without trace. Or, put another way, they're intentionally dropping out, frustrated by government intervention and the stupidity of other, less-worthy industry leaders.

Those tired, ineffectual plods are described at one point by Dagny, the railroad queen with her one-track imagination, as being like “extinguished signals.”

As the economies of the planet slowly grind to a halt - after all, the real brains are abandoning their posts as captains of industry - a catch phrase takes hold, repeated in the novel by executives and homeless alike: “Who is John Galt?”

It's used to mean, “Oh, well, what's the point?” In today's pop parlance we say, “It is what it is.” (The origin of that expression, I think, is from the U.S. Army - orders are orders, whether they make sense or not, and soldiers just have to get on with it.)

Yet the main feature of this and Rand's other famous novel, “The Fountainhead,” is its philosophy.

Rand called it Objectivism, promoting what her characters call “enlightened self-interest.” Advocates read it as free-market zeal, in capital letters, while critics deem it Selfish-ism.

Rand's beliefs have had a strong following in American politics for decades. The Ford administration counted several fans, officials who were inspired by Rand as others might quote Harper Lee or Shakespeare.

Rand's views became politicized, molded into an Economic School of Thought - just as the author had intended.

But, my goodness, her characters are a hard-boiled bunch.

Her novels' heroes are “superlatively efficient” at what they do, Rand writes. They want hard challenges, strong affections and tough mates.

And they desire no truck with those who are less steely, weighed down with dreary human failings.

Reardon tells the reader he “despised causeless affection” and those who “enjoy unearned luxury.” His own mother notes:  “Hank Reardon's not interested in man, beast or weed unless it's tied in some way to himself and his work. … I've tried my best to teach him some humanity, I've tried all my life, but I've failed.”

But, see, here's the thing: From the author's point of view, we're meant to side with Reardon, not his - apparently - ungrateful mother.

Reardon and the other unapologetic heroes of Rand's novels “take pride in being proud,” as they declare, and they work to their own aims. Reardon proclaims to a packed courtroom: “I work for nothing but my own profit.”

And: “The public good be damned, I will have no part of it!” The courtroom crowd cheers.

When the mysterious John Galt himself turns up, having stopped the “motor” of the world, he announces to Dagny, “‘The road is clear ….'

“He raised his hand and over the desolate earth he traced in space the sign of dollar.”

Are these truly the folk we want running a world so in need of compassion, innovation, quirkiness and cooperation?

For decades, spay-painted on a bridge overpass leading into downtown Youngstown, Ohio, hard alongside blazing steel mills, were the words: “Who is John Galt?” They may be there still.

Growing up there, I'd no idea what that was about. Today, however, having read Rand's muscular writing - conceding some of it but certainly not agreeing with all of it - I can perceive the symbolism of that unintentional imagery: Those mills are shuttered, many demolished.

In some ways, that motor indeed has stopped.

As we look for the means to restart the U.S. engines, we'll need those determined, hard-focused Objectivists. But we'll also require the people who can comprehend myriad sides to complex, perplexing issues.

Or what kind of world will we be bringing back?