The character of Gail Wynand is emphasized in this part. Wynand is a man of genius and consummate artistic judgment, who publishes yellow-press tabloids that do not reflect his own thinking or values, but rather those of the lowest tastes of the crowd. Wynand’s pandering and self-betrayal are brought about by his quest for power.
Growing up on the tough streets of Hell’s Kitchen, Wynand accepts the false law of this human “jungle”—that in life one either kills or is killed, rules or is ruled, eats or is eaten. Wynand chooses to rule. He believes that the men of competence and ability are rare flashes of talent in a world of mediocrity. The only means by which the few rational individuals can survive is by gaining power over the mindless dolts who, Wynand believes, form the overwhelming bulk of humanity. He, therefore, panders to the vulgar tastes of the crowd in order to gain wealth and influence.
Despite the way Wynand makes money off of giving the crowd what it wants, Wynand’s better qualities are still alive. Like Dominique, he reveres the greatest achievements of mankind. Wynand so admires the skyline of New York City that he would fling his body into space, if possible, to protect the buildings in case of attack. He speaks knowingly of love as “total passion for the total height.” His private art gallery contains only works of rare distinction. Because of Wynand’s man-worship, his reverence for human beings at their most exalted, he not only loves Dominique but also, later, Roark’s buildings and character.
Wynand and Dominique are—as Dominique points out—variations on a theme. They have committed the same error. Both believe that genius and integrity have no chance in this world, that only the most corrupt make it to the top, and that, therefore, one must choose between a debased success and a noble failure. The Henry Camerons and Howard Roarks of the world will be commercial failures. It is the Guy Francons and Peter Keatings who will be successful. In the face of such an alternative, Dominique and Wynand make different choices. Dominique will seek no value from such a world; she withdraws from it. She tries to give up her relationship with Roark and, though brilliant, pursues no independent career. She chooses to seek no values in a world where noble values are rejected. In order to maintain her spiritual purity, Dominique repudiates the world. She accepts noble failure.
But Wynand chooses the other alternative. “You don’t run things around here, kid,” was the standard response from fools to his youthful suggestions for innovations. Determined that he will, indeed, run things, he sells his soul for the wealth and power that his vulgar tabloids bring him. Wynand refuses to withdraw passively from a world of scoundrels. Rather, he becomes as ruthless as they are. A modern slang formulation of Wynand’s view is that “either one swims with the sharks or one is eaten by them.” Wynand chooses to swim with them—and, to a significant extent, swim as one of them. But the price he pays is enormous: his integrity.
Ayn Rand takes a stand on one of the most important questions of moral philosophy: What is the relationship between moral virtue and practical success? Between moral character and personal happiness? Do the two stand in inverse proportion to each other? The baseball manager, Leo Durocher, once said that “nice guys finish last”—the implication being that, in order to finish first, one must be not so nice a guy. Is this cynical view true? Is it the case that, if one lives an upright life committed to moral principles, then one has no chance of achieving worldly success? Many people—including influential philosophers—have believed, and continue to believe, that this is so. One must, therefore, make a choice—your soul or your wallet, your character or your practical success. Gail Wynand and Dominique Francon both accept this premise, although they make different choices.
But the story of The Fountainhead shows that Ayn Rand rejects this theory. Wynand lives in inner conflict, his commitment to the heroic in man undercut by his pandering and power-seeking. Eventually, when he attempts to use a corrupt instrument like The Banner to defend a genius like Roark, he is destroyed by the contradiction he has tried to live. Dedication to the noble cannot coexist in the same soul with pandering to the ignoble. Wynand’s moral failings do not lead to success, but to its opposite: self-destruction.
Dominique comes to realize that her pessimism is mistaken. She sees that Keating not only fails in the end but does so because of his utter lack of moral backbone. She observes that Wynand not only moves toward some disaster but does so because he has sold his soul. She recognizes that, despite all of Toohey’s scheming, he can neither stop Roark nor take control of The Banner; his evil is impotent against men who are morally superior. Most important, as the final part of the book illustrates, the unqualified success of Howard Roark shows Dominique that the good men not only can succeed in the world, but that they are the only ones who can. Good men alone can achieve success, because they keep their souls intact. Holding principles and values of one’s own, and remaining true to them in action, is a necessary condition of success and happiness. Dominique sees all of this, and she changes her mind. It is not the sordid and corrupt who ultimately matter and triumph, she understands, but the clean and the incorruptible.
