I am a card-carrying member of the I Hate Ayn Rand Club, and it appears that movie director Neil Marshall might share my sentiments.
His 2002 caution against the perils of individualism, "Dog Soldiers," demonstrates the inherent dangers of Randian thinking and condemns the sickening, egoistic fallout that clouds today's developed societies.
Objectivism, philosopher/mediocre novelist Ayn Rand's arguably repugnant philosophy, underscores the importance of preserving unbridled individualism, rational egoism (i.e., self-interest) and laissez-faire capitalism. She essentially believed that one's singular purpose in life is to pursue his or her own "rational self-interest," meaning that one's life focus ought to comprise only that which is best for the individual.
"Soldiers" centers on British soldiers Pvt. Cooper (played by Kevin McKidd) and Sgt. Harry Wells (Sean Pertwee), who, with a band of expendable young cadets, embark on what should have been a routine war-game-that is, had they not encountered a small horde of marauding, quasi-invincible lycanthropes, or werewolves, for the layperson.
Now, thanks to that inauspicious rendezvous, the ill-fated militiamen have to contend with the subhuman wolf-things for the rest of the movie.
Functioning as symbols of collectivist (the opposite of individualist) thinking, the squad and the lycanthrope pack epitomize a sort of anti-Rand archetype: the family. The soldiers, who behave like brothers, and the werewolves who, we find out later, actually constitute one wretched family operate in a gestalt manner. They work together, sacrifice for each other every once in a while and at least give credence to the needs, thoughts and desires of others.
Marshall, who also wrote "Dog Soldiers," seems to unwaveringly believe in the importance of self-sacrifice. "Dog's" soldiers are poised to disregard their own well-being to act as decoys or cover for their brethren-for situations do exist in which the needs of others, and the group, surpass the needs of the individual.
Rand admonished against any such sacrifice and bore a potent aversion to altruism. She believed that preserving one's life is objectively the highest possible value because without one's life intact, one can have no values.
In "Dog Soldiers," to preserve their lives, the soldiers must depend on their teammates: an idea that probably would have induced dry heaves in Rand. At several points in the film, a character is literally eviscerated. That individual's death, in turn, figuratively eviscerates the rest of the cadets, in that each constituent loss undercuts the group's buttresses.
In this case, nullifying altruism as a weakness not only disfavors any sort of empathy but also guarantees one's death. A person's fate in "Dog Soldiers" hinges on the destinies of others. As the squadron's numbers diminish, so do its members' chances for survival.
In Western societies, very few people act purely altruistically.
We're socialized with individualist values and do things either because we expect a reward or fear a punishment-not out of duty or devotion to our family, friends or the human race.
In pre-urbanization, when people had to legitimately work, nobody would have tolerated 21st-century egoism. Shirking the group for self-serving pursuits would land a person on the streets.
This fundamental value shift ultimately comes down to pronouns: The We has been replaced by the Me.
Perhaps this insidious brand of Randian individualism illuminates a failing in Western thinking.
We have no qualms about importing cheap labor to make more money because it comports with the notion of laissez-faire capitalism. Our government ousts foreign leaders-in Chile, for example-to protect Rand's concept of rational self-interest. Worst of all, we actually weigh a human life's value against our own self-interest.
Darfur anyone?
But can we really blame Ayn Rand for polluting the world with her filthy individualism?
Yes. Yes, we can.
This has been Ben Zalkind reminding you that bad movies make you think.
b.zalkind@chronicle.utah.edu
