I published an article earlier in December in which I set out to release a new series of articles recounting various lessons embedded in Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. The book is full of nuances that can be further explored to extract critical truths. As promised, I will continue this series here. In this article, we will discuss the “evil money-making scientist.”
In this day in age, almost anything produced for the sake of private profit is lambasted. “If it isn’t for the public good, it’s no good!”, people will proclaim. Such orthodoxies extend to dictate public opinion in regards to STEM – energizing society against private endeavors of such kind – while simultaneously stigmatizing scientists who betray them. Indeed many scientists would react in dismay if you, as a fellow scientist, were to let it be known that you were seeking to profit off of your discoveries. According to their cartel rules, any new discovery must be for the sake of the “common good.”
I meet weekly with a professor, a chemistry PhD and entrepreneur of many years, who owns multiple firms. He would regularly work in a high profile research laboratory many years back, and recounts the many instances in which other scientists were shocked by his desire to conjoin scientific discovery and entrepreneurship. But these shocks were not predicated on deep thought, he explains. Rather they were knee-jerk reactions, instantaneous in their nature, as if repeatable chemical reactions. As if instilled into the minds of these scientists over decades.
Atlas Shrugged
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Atlas Shrugged consists of two major characters – Hank Rearden and Dagny Taggart – that are scientist entrepreneurs, pushing back against the collective body of scientists backed by the state. Before we examine the book, let’s further clarify the issue at hand.
The issue of the “profiteering scientist” can be divided into two areas: political and philosophical, both of which I will examine. In regards to politics, the money-making scientist is viewed as an impediment to “basic research” (research formulated with the aim of improving theories and the understanding of natural phenomena). “Basic research is for the common good and should be dispersed amongst us all!”, proponents proclaim. Applied research, that is to say, research aimed at innovating to satisfy the demands of consumers, is frowned upon.
The question to ask in rebuttal is “who are you to draw a solid line between basic and applied research?” In fact, the two areas are interconnected. Without a good understanding of the theories which guide natural phenomena, why would entrepreneurs, who have money and capital at stake, aimlessly spend? The smart entrepreneur would likely put the most critical work (i.e., getting a good grasp on understanding the theories) on the front end, then begin branching out his research endeavors. If he were to take on the higher costs and forgo growth in the short term, he’d be far better off in the long term. The notion that basic and applied research are diametrically opposed in terms of who they serve (the public or the profiteers) is false.
Furthermore, the government itself can’t seem to grasp the differentiation it seeks to create. Any proclamation by the government in favor of the “common good” implies some sort of applied research as well, for example medicines. Of course, we will never know how many potentially beneficial drugs have been stalled by regulations set by the FDA, but this is for another discussion.
The “profiteering scientist” can also be examined in philosophical terms. The scientist confined to discovery in the lab is always heralded a hero, whereas the profiteering scientist is chastised. But why are these treated differently? In my last article, I discussed the importance of the individual having a purpose in life. This purpose is embodied in the immaterial satisfaction derived when one looks upon their accomplishments and puts into perspective how far they’ve gotten. For each individual, this purpose varies. The scientist confined to the lab may derive great satisfaction when he discovers – after years of trial and error – a new chemical. Likewise, the scientist turned entrepreneur may derive this satisfaction in a different way – perhaps through revolutionizing industries, completely shifting the allocation of resources to more efficient paths, watching fundamental industrial processes change, as did Hank Rearden and Dagny Taggart.
Let’s put this into perspective by examining Atlas Shrugged. While exploring an old motor factory, Dagny stumbled upon the prototype for a new type of motor, which was powered via extracting and converting static electricity from the atmosphere. Like a kid in a candy shop, Dagny was in joy, willing to do whatever it took to work the idea for the motor. She proclaimed “It’s the greatest revolution in power motors since the internal-combustion engine!” Here, she aligns a clearly defined goal with a clearly defined purpose – a means to self-actualization. In a profound way, Rand also shows how both applied and pure sciences can give off the same sensation of realizing one’s purpose – breaking the narrative that one is noble and the other is not. Dagny shows the motor idea to Dr. Robert Stadler, who works at the State Science Institute
(the main state institution featured in the book which claims that science is meant to be a “common good”). Stadler, a brilliant physicist, could care less about developing technologies which impact industries, as opposed to Dagny. Yet both of them, in that moment in time, sit bewildered thinking about the concept of the motor. Stadler sits there thinking about the massive implications for the field of physics while Dagny thinks about the implications for industry. Two different individuals fulfilling their purposes.
Let us also briefly examine the cronyism present in the book, namely with The State Science Institute. After trying to convince Hank to hold off on debuting his new metal, the Institute issues a warning to the public about the metal. Dagny Taggart, whose own firm depends on Rearden’s metal, goes to speak to Dr. Stadler at the Institute. Dr. Stadler tells Dagny that allowing a private citizen such as Hank to succeed with such a metal would cast a dark shadow on the Institute, which has plundered millions of dollars with no success. Clearly, such denunciations as “you’re not thinking about the public good” are used to prop up inefficient government programs, while giving elitist scientists comfortable salaries for discovering nothing of substance. I like to think of the failed effort with Solyndra.
Fundamentally, Atlas Shrugged underscores what happens when society tries to define one’s purpose. Anything outside of what society decides is noble is a sin. The book sheds light on an elitist, groupthink mentality which seeks to constrain others with a comparative advantage in a given area. I am reminded of something which happened in a recent intro engineering class of mine. We were told to recite the “engineering pledge”, an oath which defines the role of an engineer. Most people took it for granted, but I picked up on all the seemingly subtle details. One of the lines of the pledge read: “I will always be conscious that my skill (as an engineer) carries with it the obligation to serve humanity by making the best use of the Earth’s precious wealth.” There I was sitting, thinking that us engineers were supposed to be independent mavericks, with complete freedom in developing new ideas (so long as there are no rights violations). Now I am being told that I’m being constrained by the role of “serving humanity?” Get out of here!
