Honorable Ambition

On Thursday, March 14th, the John Marshall Project hosted a panel entitled “Honorable Ambition.” The event was held in honor of the late political philosophy professor, Robert K. Faulkner. The panel consisted of many of Prof. Faulkner’s students and colleagues, a majority of whom, although having last studied under or worked with him many years in the past, made trips across the country to be at this panel.

The central contention was that the modern notion of ambition has two vastly different expositions. Some see ambition as thoroughly negative; to be ambitious is to be deeply self-centered, opposed to the selfless care indispensable to the common good. 

On the other hand, ambition is seen as the only thing that matters, the only driving force of society, the lone motivation of all endeavors, the sole exegesis of the political community, and the only lamppost by which to examine human history. 

The contrast between these two views of ambition is, in part, the cause of much political and moral divide in our country, and many countries. 

Professor Allison Levy, one of Prof. Faulkner’s previous students, was the first speaker. She took a more theoretical approach to the question of honorable ambition, quoting Aristotle, Plato, and Xenophon, as well as analysis by Prof. Faulkner himself, to justify her position.

She began with the observation of the large and growing political disillusionment in the United States, as well other countries of the Western world. Many people see both options for political leadership proposed by the mainstream political duopoly as terrible and feel they are always choosing between the slightly lesser of two evils. 

This perception of the ubiquitousness of the authority of the permanent, out-of-touch political establishment causes many people to feel constantly dominated by ambitious people who are only out for themselves. This causes them to also deem ambition itself to be always bad. That isn’t the case.

Levy found a rather convincing defense of ambition from Aristotle. Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics speaks about the virtue of magnanimity. The word comes from the Latin magnus, meaning ‘great,’ and anima, meaning ‘soul.’ Thus, the virtue of magnanimity literally means the virtue of great-souledness. 

The great-souled man, as described by Aristotle, both deems himself to be worthy and is worthy. Magnanimity is considered the “ornament of the virtues,” meaning that it is only the metaphorical ‘cherry on top’ of the life of virtue. 

The magnanimous man, who views his great-souledness as a mere ornament to his virtue, is a man who primarily pursues virtue; he is daring and courageous, in proportion; he is just, but also merciful; and he is a man who refuses to stoop to a standard lower than the highest. His magnanimity means that his joy is in his virtue.

But what if one’s own virtue isn’t satisfactory? What if magnanimity is taken to be the main part of virtue, rather than just the ‘ornament’? The man who treats magnanimity as such will desire to attain glory. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing; ambition for exterior greatness can spur the great-souled man to pursue interior virtue because undoubtedly, at least some virtue is required for greatness. Even if virtue is only desired as a means to an end, it can still serve as a starting place for deeper-rooted virtue to be built. However, this is often not the case.

Prof. Levy observes that, regrettably, through surveys and asking her own students, this particular view of ambition is manifested in its most degraded form. Upon asking her students the question “Why do you want to do moral things?”, they responded with “Because it makes me feel good.” This is hedonism. 

Hedonism can’t be our motivation for virtue, Levy contended; it is antithetical to it. If we candidly want to pursue virtue, we can’t just treat virtue as another itch to be scratched; as something to do to make our conscience ‘feel good.’ Virtue can’t merely be analogous to: “Meat for the belly and the belly for meats” (1 Corinthians 6:13).

So then, we might be tempted to view ambition as entirely contrary to virtue, but this has its own host of problems. We desire a morality that isn’t utilitarian, something that is more than just operating on innate motivations, but then we find the problem that no one is pure enough!

Who will do something he doesn’t want to do? Especially if he is constantly dissatisfied by both the virtue he attains, and his own impure motivations for virtue?

Levy noted that people like this come across ideas like idealistic altruism, but find them to be unrealistic and impossible, “demanding moral conduct, but neglecting satisfaction.” This then leads people to only respect and follow people who appear to be morally ambitious, often with great revolutionary, all-encompassing ideas. 

Levy further stated, “Some reject morality for the ‘common good,’ others reject the common good for what is ‘moral.’” In the former case, people deign to achieve perceived goods no matter the moral cost. In the latter, people aim to be as self-perceivably ‘virtuous’ as possible, no matter the cost to the common good. 

The former is manifested by communist regimes and a servitude to the state. The latter is manifested by a liberal desire to spread the regime’s ‘enlightened’ moral ideology to every citizen of every country. In the former, one worships the state materially. In the latter, one worships the state spiritually.

We don’t need to accept a degraded epistemology of ambition, Levy argued, nor ought we to reject ambition altogether. Nor do we need to make morality and the common good mutually exclusive. Rather, we should cherish and practice a true view, a heroic view of ambition, and strive for virtue in whatever way we can. Even if our initial motivation towards virtue is a selfish one, perhaps acquired virtue itself can change that. 

In this life, our intentions likely will never be pure, but that doesn’t mean we are prevented from pursuing virtue; rather, it only demonstrates how much we need to start.