I Am John Galt (37 page)

In the same pamphlet he went on to sum up the first decade of the twenty-first century as if he had mentally time-traveled forward almost two decades. “The problem is not that government is spending too little, but that it is spending too much. The problem in schooling is that the government is spending too much on the wrong things. The problem in health care is that the government is spending too much on the wrong things. The end result has been that government has become a self-generating monstrosity. . . . What we now have is a government of the people, by the bureaucrats, including the legislators who have become bureaucrats, for the bureaucrats.”
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In the case of artificially imposed diversity quotas for faculty and staff at his university, he would tell the administration as early as 1974, “Balance and diversity have been and will continue to be valuable by-products of an undeviating emphasis on quality alone. They are not objectives to be sought directly.”
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Friedman would keep sounding his trumpet as the voice of reason and freedom until the day he died.

As late as 2004, at the age of 92 when most economists have long since retired or passed on, Friedman's voice of reason and liberty was as loud and articulate as ever, distilling difficult ideas and coating them with charm to be deliciously palatable to a mass audience. In a Fox News interview in May of that year, he explained the basic construct of government spending.

There are four ways in which you can spend money. You can spend your own money on yourself. When you do that, why then you really watch out what you're doing, and you try to get the most for your money. Then you can spend your own money on somebody else. For example, I buy a birthday present for someone. Well, then I'm not so careful about the content of the present, but I'm very careful about the cost. Then, I can spend somebody else's money on myself. And if I spend somebody else's money on myself, then I'm sure going to have a good lunch! Finally, I can spend somebody else's money on somebody else. And if I spend somebody else's money on somebody else, I'm not concerned about how much it is, and I'm not concerned about what I get. And that's government. And that's close to 40% of our national income.
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The only thing that Friedman failed to anticipate was the enormity of his own influence. He had guessed that
Free to Choose
would be received by the country about as well as Barry Goldwater in the early 1960s. Yet by the early 1980s he and Rose not only had generous sponsorship for their television show and an avid viewership, but they had a conservative Goldwater sound-alike in the White House after Ronald Reagan's landslide victory over Jimmy Carter.

On December 19, 1969, Friedman would appear on the cover of
Time
—another publication that had snubbed him and Rose earlier in the decade. The magazine grudgingly gave him credit for his emerging influence, saying, “Friedman, a 57-year-old economics professor at the University of Chicago, is still regarded by critics as a pixie or a pest, but he has reached the scholar's pinnacle: leadership of a whole school of economic thought. It is called the ‘Chicago school.' . . . Milton Friedman has done much to revive faith in the competitive market and to change the theories by which nations guide their commercial destinies.”
45

In 1962, Friedman had compiled a list of 14 unjustified government activities that included agricultural subsidies, trade tariffs, rent control, minimum wages, control of radio and television by the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), Social Security, public housing, the post office, and compulsory military conscription. So far, only the draft has been entirely eliminated. Yet there have been significant inroads into some areas, including fewer international trade restrictions under the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and elimination of the price controls of the early 1970s. However, during the latter half of the 1980s spending by government had grown to 45 percent of national income. “By that test, government owns 45 percent of the means of production that produce the national income. The U.S. is now 45 percent socialist,”
46
he would opine in a 1989
New York Times
piece.

By 2002—40 years after
Capitalism and Freedom
—Friedman had started to take a more global view and would credit a number of world developments as evidence that, ironically, capitalism was making greater gains outside of the United States, the very birthplace of modern democracy. The collapse of the Berlin Wall and the dissolution of the Soviet Union ushered in a wave of increased economic opportunity in Eastern Europe. Prosperity in China was exploding under freer economic—if not political—policies. Success stories like the East Asian “Tigers” of Taiwan, Singapore, and South Korea (all of which had followed in the footsteps of Hong Kong, which Friedman had long celebrated as an exemplary free economy) showed that largely unfettered, market-oriented systems not only worked, but thrived.

For himself, Friedman refused to take credit for any modest advancement in liberty. He felt it was a function of individual choice and people's gradual recognition that the creep of collectivism ran directly counter to our rational need to pursue our own interests. He wasn't driving the change; he was only describing and presaging the inevitable. “The change in the climate of opinion was produced by experience, not by theory or philosophy,”
47
he wrote in 1982. Then, echoing Hugh Akston, he advised, “The only person who can truly persuade you is yourself. You must turn the issues over in your mind at leisure, consider the many arguments, let them simmer, and after a long time turn your preferences into convictions.”
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Before his death in 2006, Friedman would sum up his work in the humblest of terms: “My contribution to the libertarian cause has not come on the level of values or the like but rather by empirical demonstration . . . by advancing the science of economics and showing the relevance of those advances to the policy of economics.”
49

Hugh Akston might have quibbled with Friedman's phrasing; he would have said that empirical demonstration itself is the result of one's values—the value of reason. But we expect Akston would have been pleased when Friedman said in a 1975 interview, “One of the great mistakes is to judge policies and programs by their intentions rather than their results.”
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Akston might also have quibbled with Friedman's generosity with his intellectual enemies. Akston blasted philosophers of unreason as using “the prestige of philosophy to purchase the enslavement of thought.” Friedman was gentler: “When I come to the question of the dispute and difference I have made with modern liberals, the conclusion that I always reach is that the problem with the modern liberal is not that their hearts are soft, but that their heads are.”
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Now with Friedman gone, recall what George Shultz once said of him: “Everybody loves to argue with Milton, particularly when he isn't there.”
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Sadly, he isn't there. And the arguments against reason and liberty seem louder than ever. But Friedman showed us all how to defend those values; now it's up to us.

Afterword

Learn from Ayn Rand's heroes—don't be intimidated by their exceptional achievements.

Yes, they are steel tycoons who invent new metals, architects who build the tallest buildings in New York, and rebels who save the world by stopping its engine. And today's real-life Rand heroes are titans of technology and finance, among the wealthiest people who ever lived. But these heroes are exceptional only in their epic scale, not in their intrinsic nature. Rand's books—like life itself—are full of characters who build exceptional lives by following Rand's philosophy, even though they do not become world-famous industrialists.

From
The Fountainhead
, think of Mike, the humble but superlatively competent construction worker who works with the brilliant architect Howard Roark. From
Atlas Shrugged
, think of Eddie Willers, the unassuming but—again—superlatively competent assistant to the high-powered railroad executive Dagny Taggart. Or how about Quentin Daniels, the young but—are we seeing a pattern here?—superlatively competent student who strives to reproduce John Galt's technology breakthrough? The most unforgettable may be Jeff, merely a tramp who bums a ride on one of Dagny's trains. It turns out he was once a factory worker—superlatively competent, no doubt—who reveals to Dagny the true identity of John Galt. He then masterfully takes charge for Dagny when the train they're on is abandoned by its crew.

Rand herself summed it up perfectly. Speaking in
Atlas Shrugged
through the voice of Ellis Wyatt, a brilliant oilman who has abandoned his fields to join Galt's strike: “There's no such thing as a lousy job—only lousy men who don't care to do it.”

Whether or not you'll ever be a titan of industry, there are two core lessons that can be learned from each and every one of our real-life Rand heroes.

First, they teach us how much is possible—more than we ever would have thought without them to show us the way. Before there was a Bill Gates, we just didn't know that anyone could get that rich anymore. Gates's self-made wealth hasn't been seen in this world for a century, since the days of men like Cornelius Vanderbilt. Gates proved it can still be done.

Yes, there's that old joke (repeated by envious cynics like Paul Krugman
1
) that when Bill Gates walks into a bar the average income for everyone there goes up but no one is actually richer. That is patently untrue. First, everyone in the world is richer because of the value created by Bill Gates; if they weren't, he wouldn't have been able to get so rich in the first place. But separately, and more importantly, everyone is made richer by the
example
of Bill Gates—the fact that he is living proof that great things are possible, things greater than you ever would have imagined if Gates hadn't proved it in his own life.

Second, our real-life Rand heroes teach us that Rand's value system works. Follow her precepts (she once condensed them into just four words: self-interest, reason, objective reality, and capitalism
2
) and you will succeed.

At the same time, our real-life Rand villains show what happens if you reject those precepts. Whether or not you achieve ostensible success in your life, you will be a parasite and a thief who brings ruin to everyone you deal with. Look at the case of Alan Greenspan. By following Rand's precepts he took himself to the height of fame and power, and the U.S. economy benefited from his steady hand. But by violating them once he had that power, he helped usher in a global banking crisis and the Great Recession, and now lives his twilight years in bitter regret.

John Allison is the clearest case in point. He proves that there is much you can learn from Rand's heroes, because he built a spectacular career and one of America's strongest banks by formally analyzing the virtues that made Rand's heroes great, and consciously emulating them. Then look at Angelo Mozilo, a banker of Allison's generation who took the path of Rand's villains. Today Mozilo clings to the remnants of the fortune he built by corrupting politicians and government agencies to aid and abet his house of subprime cards, but he is a ruined shell of a man who nearly ruined the entire global banking system.

So yes, you can learn from Rand's heroes—the fictional ones and the real-life ones.

From John Allison you can learn not only to live your own life in accordance with Rand's values, but to teach them to others you work with. At Allison's bank, BB&T, every one of the 30,000 employees has been trained in Rand's value system—from the executive suite to the teller line. Self-evidently, it works.

Are you looking for a concrete plan to put the value system of Rand's heroes to work in your own life? Allison has written one for you, by identifying and articulating BB&T's 10 core values. You don't have to work there to put those values to work in your life. Do it on your own, and then put yourself through the ongoing process that all BB&T employees experience: Every six months, give yourself a rigorous self-evaluation based on how you've measured up to the values.

From Bill Gates you learn that you must love your work and devote yourself to it fully. When fate offered the opportunity to build the operating system that would underlie almost every personal computer in the world, Gates's competitor, who was in a much better position to grab the opportunity, was on vacation. Gates wasn't. You might say he became the richest man in the world simply because he didn't take a vacation on one particular day.

You can also learn from Gates that you must not only be consecrated to your work, but always be on the alert to protect yourself from the envious parasites who will seek to bring you down. It's not enough to build. You must defend. Gates came within inches of losing everything because he didn't know that until it was far too late. But you know it now.

From Steve Jobs you learn that your work is your own in every sense. Do the work you love, and love the work you do. Don't think about the money—follow your passion, give it everything you've got, do it your way, and money will come. If it doesn't, it surely wouldn't have if you'd spent the same energies compromising. And don't think about all the other people; ignore the bureaucrats and the naysayers, and shrug off the critics who think you're a single-minded monster. If you have passion for something, there will be enough other people out there who will share that passion if you just wait for them to find you.

From T. J. Rodgers you learn that the passion and excellence you bring to your work can infuse your whole life. If you can do
one
thing well, then you're the kind of person who can do things well—so you can do
lots
of things well. Do so, and don't settle for less. Work only with people who are the same way. Don't waste too much time being nice to incompetents—move on; surround yourself with people who care as much as you do, and who will work as hard as you will.

You can also learn from Rodgers not to be afraid to speak out. Sure, in today's culture dominated by media all too eager to tear down people of achievement and fame, and in a political environment soaked in implicit and explicit obeisance to principles of collectivism, you can feel like a pariah if you speak up for freedom, for individualism, or even for achievement. But Rodgers gets away with speaking his mind, and so can you. His secret weapon? It's the utterly guilt-free and fear-free confidence that he is right. That can be your secret weapon, too. Just don't feel guilty about believing what you believe.

What can you learn from real-life Rand villains?

From Angelo Mozilo you can learn that you can make some quick bucks by conniving with politicians, lying to stockholders, and tricking suckers into buying homes they can't afford with mortgage debt they can't repay, and then get a government agency to take all the risk. Want to be responsible for a worldwide banking collapse and live out the rest of your days as a discredited scumbag? Want to destroy countless lives—many of those you purported to help? Then you know just what to do.

From Barney Frank you can learn to act like a big guy by pretending you care about the little guys, many of whom will vote for you in return. Then when it turns out that you destroy the U.S. housing market—and cause irreparable harm to the little guys whose votes you were courting—because your idea of using taxpayer risk to buy off your electorate blew up, just blame Wall Street and demand to be made an even bigger guy. It's easy.

From Paul Krugman you can learn that all it takes to be a media celebrity is to say anything, whether or not it's true—as long as you make sure to tell the collectivist stories the media wants to hear. Never admit error. Never admit fault. If anyone disagrees with you, accuse him or her of being partisan, dishonest, an ideological racist, or—better yet—a stalker. Creating a political atmosphere steeped in hate is a small price to pay for your fame. Go for it.

And what can we learn from Alan Greenspan, the man who knew better—the man who started as a Rand hero and then, seemingly with the best of intentions, ended up living the life of one of her most pathetic villains? Learn that no matter how smart you are, no matter how right you are, you can't save the world by using the police power of the state to carry out your brilliant ideas. Might makes wrong. Always.

So with all this to fortify you, go forth and be a Rand hero. All you really have to do is take John Galt's oath—and mean it.

“I swear by my life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man, or ask another man to live for mine.”