When Hank Rearden encounters Ragnar Danneskjold on a dark summer night, the philosopher-turned-pirate proclaims that “[u]ntil men learn that of all human symbols, Robin Hood is the most immoral and the most contemptible, there will be no justice on earth and no way for mankind to survive.” (533) Is Robin Hood really immoral? The answer is yes. The answer is no.
Objectively speaking, Robin Hood, in his barest and most metaphysical form, represents a force that transfers wealth from those who do not deserve it, to those who do. It is the subjective interpretation and definition of the “deserving” and the “undeserving” that determines its ethical righteousness. The moral Robin Hood takes money from the “thieving poor” (532), the looters and criminals, who “seize wealth by force” (533), and returns the stolen property to its rightful owners. Conversely, the immoral Robin Hood robs the productive and rightfully rich and redistributes their capital – in the name of charity and altruism – amongst bums and beggars, who affirm that their existence alone justifies a claim to the wealth of others. When Ragnar Danneskjold states that he is out to destroy Robin Hood, he is only referring to the latter. The reason for this is simple: Danneskjold himself is a personification of the moral Robin Hood.
In context, the historical Robin Hood could actually be classified as a moral figure. In the original legend, he stole from the degenerate aristocracy of the time, who stockpiled their gold on the backs of an exploited working class. The wicked Sheriff of Nottingham, the epitome of moral reprobation, certainly didn't come to power and prosperity on the basis of effort. Rather, the system in place ensured that no matter how hard the baker, the butcher or the candlestick-maker worked, the Sheriff would always be the one to profit. He could
demand ridiculous taxes and absolute servitude, leaving his denizens the “free choice” between compliance and death. Consequently, society called for a just individual to stop the flow of wealth and property from the productive to the oppressive. Robin Hood answered that call and restored justice in a system where effort was not rewarded and a static, omnipotent ruling class tyrannized the life of anyone who was not lucky enough to be born in a crib with satin duvets.
If the historical Robin Hood was really a man of virtue, how can it be that Ragnar Danneskjold is out to destroy him? Would that not be against his own convictions? No. As Danneskjold himself points out, Robin Hood is actually not remembered for his original deeds, rather, he is remembered “as a champion of need, not as a defender of the robbed, but as a provider of the poor.” (532) As a consequence, “[h]e became a justification for every mediocrity who, unable to make his own living, had demanded the power to dispose of the property of his betters.” (532) Society has twisted the moral justice Robin Hood originally represented and thereby created an immoral Robin Hood who conforms to its altruistic beliefs.
Nevertheless, Collectivists such as Wesley Mouch or James Taggart celebrate this immoral Robin Hood. He dispossesses individuals “of superlative ability” (532) and donates his loot to the needy poor, whose sole claim to these riches is their mediocrity. For many centuries, this “ideal of righteousness” (532), an utter corruption of morality and justice, has been propagating the idea that productivity is vice and incompetence is virtue; that only the idle are morally entitled to rights and riches whereas the productive must live a life of suffering and sacrifice, in the name of the “common good”. Therefore, the most efficient way to
achieve prosperity under such circumstances is not to work for it, but to want it, in the knowledge that need and failure – not achievement – will be rewarded by some philanthropic entity of the likes of Robin Hood – such as a collectivist government.
The only possible way to justify such a system of thought is to negate the laws of reason and replace them with irrationality (or bend them through social engineering). The proof for this lies in the fact that there is a single question which individuals who amass their wealth through alms rather than personal effort fail to answer properly: how the rich got rich and how the poor got poor. How did the immoral Robin Hood's forced donors acquire their capital in the first place? Why are Hank Rearden and Francisco D'Anconia wealthy and successful, while others are poor and miserable? Luck, they may claim. Destiny. Happenstance. However, when reason is employed, the answer to these questions is a lot more definite than that. In fact, the answer is contained in a single axiom, proclaimed by John Galt in his radio-speech to the remainder of the civilized world: “the law of causality” (954). According to this basic principle, wealth is not obtained through serendipity or supernatural phenomena, i.e. miracles, as religion may profess; “[w]ealth is the product of man's capacity to think” (411); it is the result of reason, purpose and valiant effort to fulfill one's own rational self-interest. Therefore, it is only fair that the (financial) reward of the man “who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by sweat and dust and blood” and “who does actually strive to do the deeds”, as Theodore Roosevelt once said, is greater than that of the lazy spectator, whose face is marred by need.
However, when the unproductive of the world are confronted with this truth, that they are poor not because of chance or fate, but because they did not work hard enough for the
rewards they demand to be given, the cries of “Injustice!” and “Equality!” are still not silenced. Would it really hurt the rich if they gave a little of their wealth to those in need? Would it really hurt successful firms if they gave less fortunate ventures a slice of the market share? Can't the big guys be a little selfless? These questions fail to account for how society would suffer. They ignore the fact that when an altruistic government issues an Equalization of Opportunity Bill and thereby forces one of its greatest entrepreneurs to hand over Rearden Ore to those “in need” of it, society is deprived of a successful business in favor of a mediocre one. When products are consequently more expensive or of lesser quality, it is consumers who suffer the greatest loss, not the entrepreneur – in this case Hank Rearden. Such is the price of what collectivists call equality and justice.
The moral Robin Hood, embodied by Ragnar Danneskjold, is the complete antithesis to his immoral counterpart. He is the force that seizes property from those who acquired it through coercion or fraud in an act of crime. He then returns that property to its legitimate owners. Danneskjold describes himself as a policeman, whose task it is to “protect men from criminals” (533). However, the moral Robin Hood, and therefore Ragnar Danneskjold, could also be interpreted to represent a much greater institution than the police force: government. It is the duty of a government to ensure that no ill-thinking man or woman deprives one of its citizens of the opportunity to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” through the use of force or deceit. In the dystopian environment of Atlas Shrugged, “where robbery is done in open daylight by sanction of the law” (529); where the dysfunctional government itself has turned marauder; where the use of reason and rationality is no longer an option, a moral Robin Hood, Ragnar Danneskjold, emerges to take the place of government.
You may ask whether Danneskjold's use of force is morally justifiable, after all he “chose to live by means of force, like the rest of them” (530). He himself gives us the answer: “I am merely complying with the system which my fellow men have established. If they believe that force is the proper means to deal with one another, I am giving them what they ask for” (530). This complies with Ayn Rand's views on the use of force, namely that it may never be instituted or replace the use of reason; it should only be used as a response to force, to defend oneself from those who initiate it.
Finally, there remains one question: isn't the moral Robin Hood just as philanthropic as the immoral one? Isn't Ragnar Danneskjold, as Hank Rearden puts it, “one of those damn altruists who spends his time on a non-profit venture and risks his life merely to serve others” (535)? The truth is quite the opposite. When Danneskjold sinks the looters' vessels and seeks to restore peace and order, his primary purpose is not to serve Rearden or Wyatt or Galt, but himself and “the cause of my love”, “Justice”, “for the day when I won't have to be a pirate any longer” (531). This highlights the fundamental difference between the immoral Robin Hood, the one man Ragnar Danneskjold is out to destroy, and his moral counterpart: the immoral one lives to serve others, “practicing charity with wealth which he d[oes] not own” (532) and thereby harming society. Conversely, the moral Robin Hood serves his own rational self-interest to create an environment where reason reigns and men are free to achieve greatness.