We hate the one who does what he really loves || Acharya Prashant, on ‘The Fountainhead’

Acharya Prashant
4 min readNov 9, 2019

Henry Cameron said to Roark,

“You love your work. God help you, you love it. And that’s the curse. That’s the brand on your forehead for all of them to see. The substance of them is hatred for any man who loves his work. That’s the only kind they fear. I don’t know why.”

“You’re opening yourself up, Roark, for each and every one of them.”

~ The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand.

All of us live lives of hidden, quiet, silent indignation, humiliation. Internally all of us know that we are not living rightly, internally all of us know that we have surrendered to the wrong forces. Internally we are all ashamed of ourselves.

When somebody like Roark (the protagonist in Ayn Rand’s ‘The Fountainhead’) comes across us, then he rubs salt on our wounds. Our usual consolation is — “You know I went down, I compromised, I gave up because it is not possible to win. I didn’t fight because it makes no sense to fight. I went down, I laid down my arms, I started crawling on my knees. And that’s alright because everybody else is doing it.”

That’s our usual alibi. That’s what keeps us alive. Otherwise the humiliation of an abject surrender would have not allowed us to live. But we find a convenient alibi. And what is that?

“If I did it so does everybody else. If I didn’t fight stoutly, it is because it is impossible to fight.” And living upon such arguments we chance upon somebody like Roark. Now how do we feel? We feel as if one tight slap has been imprinted on our cheek.

Roark is a clear proof that all our arguments in support of weakness are dishonest. And we all have arguments in favour of our weaknesses.

“What do I do, I am just a kid?”

“What do I do, I am not from the right background?”

“What do I do, I am just twenty years old?”

“What do I do, nobody helps me?”

“”What do I do, it is humanly impossible to fight the society?”

These are the arguments we live upon. Don’t we? All the ones who are crawling on all fours, do find some grace, some dignity in these hollow arguments…