“I’m a dangerous person,” laughs Ellsworth Monkton Toohey, knowing that few will believe him. “Somebody ought to warn you against me” (Rand 307). He thinks he holds society in the palm of his hand, but he has failed to take one factor into account. As long as individuals, independent in mind and spirit, continue to exist, he cannot achieve total ascendancy over humankind. Howard Roark is one such individual, and he will be Toohey’s downfall. Toohey’s attempts to dominate Roark and Peter Keating and the reactions of each dramatize the confrontation between the forces of collectivism and individualism in man’s soul.
Toohey represents the forces of collectivism, Keating the rotten fruits of its victory, and Roark the superior force of the individual. Toohey schemes to destroy man’s ego and thereby subjugate the human soul. He is motivated by a desire for power over others and for the dependence of others on his guidance. He seeks this power to compensate for his physical weakness and mental mediocrity. Suffering from an inferiority complex, he attempts to destroy every sliver of integrity left in the world, because he knows he has none. On the one hand, Keating mindlessly follows Toohey. Driven by an insatiable hunger for the adoration of others, he ignores the most important judge of his actions—himself. He believes that by existing entirely for others, he can attain happiness. On the other hand, Roark resists and ultimately defeats Toohey. His greatest assets are his determination to maintain his integrity and his dedication to his vision. As a man with a self-sufficient ego, he neither needs nor wants a demagogue to dictate his thoughts and actions. Therefore Toohey can never break his will.
Toohey’s schemes could halt the progress of humankind. With his influence as a popular columnist of The Banner, he elevates mediocrity and condemns greatness, urging his fellow citizens to embrace the weak, the helpless, the inferior. “Let all progress stop. Let all stagnate. There’s equality in stagnation” (639). Thus, he elevates himself in the public eye above true geniuses like Roark, whom he could never otherwise hope to surpass. Powerless to fight Roark alone, Toohey writes cunning reviews that subtly turn society against original creators. He intends to crush all greatness merely to compensate for his lack of self-worth. To this means, Toohey preaches the dogma of altruism, assuring people that they are worthless as selfish individuals. He enthrones the collective society as an object of veneration. As gullible, weak-willed people sacrifice themselves for the so-called greater good, they unwittingly enslave themselves to Toohey. Furthermore, minions such as Keating depend on Toohey for support. By forfeiting their souls for an outside cause, they leave themselves without internalized support. Their vacant minds are ready to be filled by Toohey, for they have lost their identity and their free will. They are shadows of the inhabitants of Toohey’s ideal world—a world of parasites instead of self-sufficient individuals. Ironically, Toohey admits, “Peter…I’m the most selfless man you’ve ever known. I have less independence than you, whom I just forced to sell your soul” (638). He depends as much on his followers for his life as they depend on him for their lives. The result? None of them truly lives at all.
Toohey guides Keating’s attempts to achieve success--success as defined by a society that does not truly understand it. Keating mindlessly builds upon the achievements of the Classical architects and shamelessly relies on Roark to improve his second-rate designs. Yet he never contributes anything original to the field of architecture nor gives Roark the credit he deserves. By refusing to part with traditional styles, Keating adheres to his self-imposed doctrine of conformity. He wants society to perceive him as a great architect, although he knows he is a failure. Like Toohey, he basely defames true greatness to arrogate undeserved respect, the delusion of prestige (607). Furthermore, Keating betrays his one true love, Catherine Halsey, to marry Dominque Francon, a woman he is not worthy to touch. This decision is the watershed of his life, for he betrays not only Catherine, but also himself. Only with Catherine does he feel at ease with himself. Regardless, he marries disdainful Dominique for prestige and comes away feeling more inadequate then ever. Moreover, he inadvertently kills feeble Lucius Heyer by extortion. But when he learns that Heyer has left him everything he owned, Keating exults at the prospect of impressing others with his newfound material wealth. However, he ignores his guilt, for he values not his self-image, but the image he projects to the rest of the world. In addition, Keating professes to adore anything Toohey endorses, including the absurd, incomprehensible works of Lois Cook. Unquestioningly, he trusts Toohey and does not attempt to judge the pieces himself. Just as Toohey intends, he wastes his time reading gibberish to construct a façade of literary erudition without bothering to actually develop or use his intellect. Ironically, while he relies on the gullibility of others for his prestige, he is equally gullible to the lies of a tyrant who elevates vulgarity. Most importantly, Keating follows, worships, refuses to understand what Toohey stands for as long as Toohey helps him garner prestige. Only after Toohey deserts him does Keating begin to face the truth: he has been collaborating with the greatest evil known to humankind. Unfortunately, the realization comes too late. Keating can no longer redeem himself nor salvage his life. He sold his soul long ago.
Roark stands for everything that Toohey loathes and fears. From the beginning, Roark causes certain people to feel nonexistent in his presence. He knows, without doubt, who he is. But these people define themselves by the standards of others and cannot exist independently. In Roark’s anchored presence, they dimly sense their own nonentity. As the story progresses, Roark seeks out the outmoded architect Henry Cameron for instruction despite Peter’s objections. As a rational, independent individual, Roark perceives the genius in Cameron’s work and cannot be dissuaded from this rational judgment. Even though others condemn him as a fool, he continues to act according to his own decisions. Likewise, Roark refuses to compromise his designs for the tastes of a hidebound public. Thus, he preserves the flawless integrity of his vision against jealous men like Toohey and an ignorant society. Rather than accepting the verdicts of others, he judges his work by his own standards and is sure of its greatness. Roark’s fundamental motive is self-fulfillment—not through acceptance by society, but through acceptance of himself. He achieves this goal by doing only his un-compromised best. In fact, Roark chooses to work in a quarry rather than classicize his design for the Manhattan Bank Company skyscraper. Above all, he values the integrity of his occupation. Since he cannot perform the job according to his terms, he leaves to take a job that allows him to be himself. Although nearly penniless, he refuses to accept money from a smug Keating. He treasures his independence and avoids becoming indebted to or dependent on anyone. He proves that, contrary to Toohey’s reasoning, the soul can be neither ruled nor broken (635).
Roark’s unflinching resistance and ultimate triumph over Toohey and his followers demonstrate the power of the self-contained individual over the forces of collectivism. After second-hand architects defile his vision of Cortlandt Homes, Roark demolishes the structure and allows authorities to arrest him and put him on trial for the second time. “A man like Roark is on trial before society all his life. Who does that indict—Roark or society?” demands his friend Gail Wynand (623). Plainly, Toohey’s influence has grown potent and far-flung. Toohey did not engineer the changes in Roark’s plans; his faceless followers made them arbitrarily. Has society warped into Toohey’s twisted vision of the future? To find out, Roark sets up a test case. If he loses, he will know that Toohey has succeeded in indoctrinating the creed of altruism in man’s mind and in subjugating man’s soul. He will know that the world is no longer fit for him to live in, that the world is indeed “perishing in an orgy of self-sacrificing,” and that his best alternative is to give a decade of his life in prison as a tribute to his predecessors and to the past greatness of his nation. Fortunately, this course of action proves unnecessary. The jury acquits Roark. Toohey’s efforts and exertions have proved futile. Roark has exposed the powerlessness of second-handers like Toohey to all those who care to understand. The second-hander has always been destined to fail.
Roark’s victory foreshadows the ultimate, inevitable prevalence of the first-hander. His victory foreshadows a world of egoists, a world in which each person exists for himself—and asks no other person to live for him (681); a world in which all people are first-handers, innovators, creators—in which all recognize the human ego as the fountainhead of progress (Peikoff 695).
Yet today, young Americans face the risk of becoming second-handers, those who live off the approval of others and cannot think for themselves. We are in dire need of that which was Howard Roark’s greatest asset: we need a strong sense of self-worth. We must learn to value ourselves as we are, rather than starving ourselves to look attractive to others, drinking dangerous amounts of alcohol to prove ourselves to others, or eschewing serious study because our peers might call us nerds. We must learn to live for ourselves, not for outside approval. We each must learn to have a self-sufficient ego. Only then will Roark’s prophecy—Ayn Rand’s vision of the future—be fulfilled.