Montaigne on the futility of ambition

Yesterday, I explained why I re-read Montaigne on a regular basis. Although I included quite a few of my favourite quotations from his Essays in that post, I’m not done.

One of the thing I really appreciate about Montaigne is how he pokes fun at our ambition, showing how pointless it all is.

In short, as Flaminius’ host said, “it is all pork with different sauces.” (‘On some lines from Virgil’)

We hanker after badges of honour, whether that is academic degrees, expensive cars, large houses, made-up ‘awards’ all to seek the recognition which we think we deserve. We invent ways of speaking to exclude others, and assume that if we don’t understand what someone “important” is saying then the fault lies with us, rather than them.

It is the same in discussion: the gravity, academic robes and rank of the man who is speaking often lend credence to arguments which are vain and silly… If they condescend to join in ordinary discussions and you show them anything but approval and reverence, they clobber you with the authority of their experience: they have heard this; they have seen that; they have done this: you are overwhelmed with cases. (‘On the art of conversation’)

Those who can’t achieve the recognition they desire through awards and ostentation attempt to achieve it by being “busy.” I have met so many people in my working life who equate this — or, at least, the appearance of being busy — with being important. I feel sorry for these people, as top of my priority list in all areas of my life is “autonomy.” It seems the same was true of Montaigne.

For a certain type of man, being busy is a mark of competence and dignity. Their minds seek repose in motion, like babes in a cradle. They can say that they are as useful to their friends as they are bothersome to themselves. Nobody gives his money away to others: everyone gives his time. We are never more profligate than with the very things over which avarice would be useful and laudable. (‘On restraining your will’)

It is, of course, a delicate balance. One does not want to have regrets at the end of one’s life about what one could have done. I don’t think that Montaigne is talking about laziness when he says that he does what is required of him, without being ambitious. It’s possible to argue, and I think many would do so, that we should build our capacities and have them take us as far as they can.

But is that a flourishing life? Does a good life involve working towards the next power-up as if we were a video game character? There’s always another level, and never a final boss to defeat. Unless we’re talking about Death, who currently has a 100% win rate.

I am capable of doing somewhat more than I do or like to do. To the best of my knowledge I never left undone any action that duty seriously required of me; but I readily overlooked those where ambition mingles with duty and uses it as a pretext it is those which, more often than not, fill men’s eyes and ears and please them; they are satisfied not with realities but appearances. (‘On restraining your will’)

As I discussed a decade ago, John Bayley wrote in one of the memoirs he wrote of his wife, the celebrated philosopher Iris Murdoch, that she “never really had a strong sense of self.” I’ve thought about that a lot over my life, sometimes believing that I have a strong sense of self, and sometimes not. More recently, though, I’ve realised that it might be the wrong question.

If you have been able to examine and manage your own life you have achieved the greatest task of all. (‘On experience’)

Like Montaigne, to my mind, the greatest achievement is to have such clarity that you know what you want, and can achieve it without being swayed by other people’s opinions about what you should be doing with your life. This does not mean having a numerical target of how much money you want to earn, or a 10-year plan for you and your family.

Instead, what I think it means is living in harmony with your values. As Mahatma Gandhi famously said, “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” I think Montaigne would have approved.