First published Dec. 3, 2003, in the Chicago Free
Press.
Novelist Ayn Rand (1905-1982), best known as author of The
Fountainhead (1943) and Atlas Shrugged (1957), is
rightly regarded as a rigorous defender of individualism and
personal autonomy, of the right to craft a life satisfying to
oneself rather than others, of the importance of thinking logically
and carefully examining traditional assumptions.
Given this emphasis, it is easy to understand why many gays and
lesbians would find in Rand's novels a message of encouragement, a
powerful nudge toward self-acceptance and a foundation for
self-esteem in the face of moralizing religions and social
stigma.
Rand, who was born Alissa Rosenbaum in St. Petersburg, Russia,
is even listed in the "Gay Russian Hall of Fame" maintained by a
Moscow alternative newspaper and The Fountainhead is
called "a landmark of gay culture," presumably for its theme of
personal liberty and individual creativity.
It is all the more surprising, then, that Rand herself held a
strongly negative view of homosexuality which during the 1960s and
1970s influenced many of her followers, leading some gays to remain
in the closet or try therapy in the vain hope of changing their
orientation.
Yet there is nothing anywhere in the novels to suggest any
hostility to homosexuality. Perhaps even the opposite is true in
the themes of strong bonding between some of the male characters.
In Atlas Shrugged, heroine Dagny Taggart remarks to
industrialist Hank Rearden that she thinks he has "fallen" for
Francisco d'Anconia. "Yes, I think I have," Rearden
acknowledges.
And commenting on The Fountainhead, Rand said that the
love of publisher Gail Wynand, a man, for architect Howard Roark
was "greater, I think, than any other emotion in the book." Rand
insisted that the love was not homosexual, but "love in the
romantic sense...." Yet in a later essay Rand defined romantic love
exactly as "the profound ... passion that unites mind and body in
the sexual act." The contradiction is hard to miss.
Luckily in a way, most people just read the novels and took away
whatever message they needed for their own lives, happily unaware
of the author's personal opinions, tastes, and preferences. As D.H.
Lawrence once remarked, "Don't tell me what the novelist says, tell
me what the novel says."
Rand's one explicit statement about homosexuality, however, came
in 1971 after a public lecture in Boston. She made it clear that
her philosophy of personal rights and limited government required
that homosexuality be decriminalized, an enlightened view for the
time, but then went on to say, "It involves psychological flaws,
corruptions, errors, or unfortunate premises .... Therefore I
regard it as immoral ... And more than that, if you want my really
sincere opinion. It's disgusting."
Although Rand offered no further rationale for her opinion, her
designated successor Nathaniel Branden dutifully followed her lead
for a time - with equally little rationale. But Branden gradually
changed his views as did many others through the 1970s and
1980s.
By 1983, a year after Rand died, Branden was willing to say that
she was "absolutely and totally ignorant" about homosexuality,
describing her view "as calamitous, as wrong, as reckless, as
irresponsible, and as cruel, and as one which I know has hurt too
many people who ... looked up to her and assumed that if she would
make that strong a statement she must have awfully good
reasons."
Untangling the story of how Rand's views were gradually put
aside or corrected by her successors is the subject of a new
monograph by New York University scholar Chris Matthew Sciabarra,
Ayn Rand, Homosexuality, and Human Liberation. The openly
gay Sciabarra is author of Ayn Rand: The Russian Radical
and editor of the important Journal of Ayn Rand
Studies.
More than most others, Rand's candid biographer Barbara Branden
retained her independence in the face of Rand's strong personality.
"I never agreed with her about homosexuality," Branden told
Sciabarra. "I considered her profoundly negative judgment to be
rash and unreasonable."
Branden recounted that once she observed a Rand-influenced
psychiatrist start to try to "cure" a young gay man unhappy about
his gay feelings rather than help him achieve self-acceptance.
"I listened seething inside," Branden said. "Afterwards I said
to him 'Please give me your proof that homosexuality is
psychologically unhealthy and should be cured.' The psychiatrist
seemed astonished by the question. Then he suddenly was silent for
what seemed an endless time, apparently thinking, and finally he
replied, very quietly, 'It's something I've always assumed to be
true. ... I can't prove it. I don't know it to be true.'
"
And openly gay Arthur Silber who currently writes the engaging
"Light of Reason" weblog, summed it up to Sciabarra, "Rand did have
an extremely unfortunate tendency to moralize in areas where moral
judgments were irrelevant and unjustified. ... especially in ...
aesthetics and sexuality."
In the end, Rand's gripping novels and some of her essays seem
destined to have a long and productive influence, while her
incidental personal preferences and tastes are likely to be
completely forgotten by the next generation. No one could wish
things otherwise.
Author's note: Sciabarra's 70-page
monograph can be ordered for $9.95 from Sense of Life Objectivists or,
beginning January 2004, from Laissez
Faire Books.