Ambition and Responsibility: Role of Youth in Nation Building

Introduction

We spend a considerable part of our time preparing young people for success. From an early age, they are told which examinations to clear, which degrees to pursue, which skills to acquire and which professions are likely to offer them a secure future. Families make sacrifices for their education, institutions measure their performance, employers evaluate their productivity, and society, in turn, recognises and celebrates their achievements.

There is nothing unusual about this. Every generation wants the next one to do better, have more opportunities and live a more secure life. But somewhere in this entire process, I think we tend to overlook a rather important question: what, ultimately, are we teaching our young people to succeed at?

The question is not whether young people should be ambitious. A generation that is not willing to learn, work, innovate, build institutions and improve the conditions of life cannot contribute much to the future of a nation. Ambition is necessary, and there is little reason to discourage it. What deserves our attention, however, is the meaning we attach to it. Is ambition simply about moving ahead in life, or should there be something more to it? And more importantly, how do we decide whether an achievement is actually worth pursuing?

The Problem with the Prevailing Idea of Success

In our everyday conversations, success is generally described through a familiar set of achievements: a good salary, a prestigious designation, a respectable social position, material possessions, a certain lifestyle and the recognition that comes with them. These are things that can be seen, compared and communicated to others. A new job title can be announced, an examination rank can be displayed, and an expensive purchase is often enough to communicate a certain degree of financial success. But what about honesty, intellectual curiosity, good judgement, dependable relationships, courage and the ability to make a positive difference in the lives of others? These qualities are considerably more difficult to measure, and perhaps that is one reason why they receive much less attention.

To be clear, there is nothing inherently wrong with professional advancement or material prosperity. A good income can provide financial security, better healthcare, quality education and a degree of independence that many people have spent their lives working towards. For families that have experienced financial insecurity, the desire to earn well is neither shallow nor something to be ashamed of. In a country where young people continue to face serious challenges in finding secure and suitable employment, it would be rather insensitive to dismiss economic ambition as though it were merely a distraction from more important things. The India Employment Report 2024, prepared by the Institute for Human Development and the International Labour Organization, discusses the various challenges surrounding youth employment, education and skills in India.^[1]

The difficulty begins when something that is necessary for a good life gradually becomes the principal measure of its worth. Financial security can certainly make life better, but it cannot, by itself, tell us what that life should be about. A prestigious profession may create opportunities, but it does not necessarily make a person wise. Wealth can provide freedom, but it does not teach us how to use that freedom. Similarly, recognition may establish a person's reputation, but it does not necessarily tell us whether that reputation is deserved.

Research on income and emotional well-being also reminds us that the relationship between money and a good life is not as simple as it is sometimes presented. Income can be associated with greater well-being, although the relationship varies between individuals.^[2] It would therefore be incorrect to argue that money does not matter, or that people struggling financially should simply learn to appreciate other things in life. Material conditions matter, and they matter a great deal. But the fact that money can improve our well-being does not necessarily mean that accumulating more of it should become the central purpose of our lives.

Perhaps the more important question is how we develop these ideas about success in the first place. Young people do not form their ambitions in isolation. They observe what families value, what educational institutions reward, what employers promote, what friends display and whom public life recognises. They learn from direct advice, but perhaps more powerfully from what they see people practise.

When high income and visible consumption attract admiration while integrity, honest work and fulfilled responsibilities receive little notice, a message is communicated. Nobody needs to tell young people that wealth and status matter most; the people society celebrates, and the compromises it overlooks, often say it for us.

This is how a particular understanding of success begins to reproduce itself. Institutions measure and reward certain outcomes. People organise their efforts around those rewards, carry the same priorities into their workplaces and public lives, and pass them on. A measure of achievement can gradually become a measure of human worth.

This need not involve deliberate misdirection. Families want security for their children; schools need ways to assess performance; employers must evaluate results; and individuals compare themselves with others. The problem begins when what is easiest to measure and reward takes precedence over qualities that are harder to measure but essential to a worthwhile life.

The danger, therefore, is not simply that people want too much. It is that they may spend a considerable part of their lives pursuing goals whose actual worth they have never really examined. The finish line keeps moving, because the purpose of the race itself remains undefined.

When Success Becomes a Moral Question

Let us consider a rather ordinary situation. A young professional is working in the sales department of an organisation, where she has been assigned an aggressive quarterly target. She realises that there are two ways of achieving it. She can present the benefits of a product very prominently while leaving some of its important limitations for customers to discover later, or she can explain its costs and limitations honestly, even if that means losing a few potential customers.

The first approach may help her achieve better numbers in the short term. The second may result in a missed target. Now, if the organisation evaluates her performance primarily through sales figures, the employee who creates misleading expectations may receive recognition, while the one who protects the interests of the customer may appear less successful.

This is only an illustrative situation, and certainly not an allegation against employers in general. Many organisations invest considerable effort in maintaining customer trust and professional standards. However, the example raises an important question about how we define success. Is achieving a target enough to establish that the achievement is worthy? Or should we also consider the means through which it was achieved?

The person who reaches a target and the person who deserves to reach it are not necessarily the same.

And the consequences do not end with the individual employee. A misleading sale can cost a customer money and weaken their confidence in a business. When such conduct is repeatedly rewarded, other employees may begin to imitate it, while managers have less incentive to correct it. What initially appears to be one person's compromise can gradually become an organisational expectation. The incentive does not simply reward a particular choice; it also influences the choices people make afterwards.

Similar pressures arise in classrooms, laboratories, public offices and politics. When examination results matter more than honest assessment, cheating becomes easier to justify; when careers depend on favourable findings, reporting inconvenient evidence becomes risky; when officials are judged only by visible outputs, fairness and process can be neglected. The settings differ, but the pattern is similar: results can displace the principles that give them value.

This is where the discussion of ambition must also become a discussion of character. If advancement is the only standard, integrity can begin to look negotiable whenever dishonesty offers a faster route. If influence is the only objective, persuasion can become manipulation. And if productivity is the only thing that matters, people can begin to be treated merely as instruments for achieving it.

What matters, then, is not merely whether a person is succeeding, but what their pursuit is making of them and of the institutions around them.

This does not mean that we should expect perfection from people. We all work under pressure, make mistakes and sometimes face choices in which every available option carries a cost. Good judgement requires us to take those constraints seriously without treating them as automatic excuses. The aim is not to demand an ideal outcome every time, but to remain conscious of our responsibilities and resist the temptation to justify any profitable or prestigious achievement simply because we attained it.

Consider a young person who is the principal earner in a family and, after months of searching, receives an offer from an organisation whose practices they find ethically troubling. Refusing may mean losing the income on which rent, treatment or a sibling's education depends; accepting may mean entering an environment in which they will face pressure to participate in conduct they do not endorse. It is easy to demand an uncompromising refusal from a distance, without bearing the consequences. Their responsibility does not disappear, but neither can their circumstances be ignored. We should distinguish between those who design or enforce harmful practices, those who knowingly participate despite having realistic alternatives, and those whose ability to refuse is severely limited. Ethical judgement must consider both what people do and the freedom they have to do otherwise. Institutions also bear responsibility for ensuring that earning a livelihood does not routinely require people to compromise their conscience.

There is an interesting formulation of this concern in Indian public life. A list published in Young India on 22 October 1925, reproduced by Mahatma Gandhi from a correspondent he referred to as a “fair friend,” included phrases such as “knowledge without character,” “commerce without morality” and “science without humanity.”^[5] What makes these formulations relevant even today is that they remind us not to judge a human capacity merely by what it can accomplish. Knowledge is important, but so is the character of the person who possesses it. Commerce is necessary, but so is the manner in which profit is earned. Scientific progress is valuable, but so is the purpose for which that knowledge is ultimately used.

The ability to do something and the judgement to know how it ought to be done are different things.

A More Demanding Vision of Ambition

If ambition itself is not the problem, then how should we judge it? Perhaps we can begin with three fairly simple questions. What are we trying to achieve? What means are we willing to employ to achieve it? And what happens to other people in the process?

The first question is about purpose. A career may provide financial stability, intellectual satisfaction, independence or an opportunity to solve problems that actually matter. But it can also become a constant competition for recognition, where every achievement loses its importance as soon as someone else achieves something greater. The outward activity may be exactly the same, yet the place it occupies in a person's life can be entirely different.

The second question concerns the means through which we pursue our objectives. Professional competence is essential, but competence without integrity can also make a person more effective at causing harm. Education should ideally improve our understanding and judgement, rather than merely increase our earning capacity. Scientific knowledge should help us understand and improve the world, but it should also make us more conscious of the consequences of using that knowledge. The pursuit of excellence becomes meaningful when it develops our capabilities without making us compromise the principles that should guide their use.

The third question concerns our obligations towards others. No person lives entirely independently of society. Our opportunities are shaped by our families, teachers, public infrastructure, social stability and the work of countless people whose names we may never know. This does not mean that every individual must sacrifice personal aspirations for society. It does mean that self-reliance should not be confused with having achieved everything entirely on our own.

An important counterargument deserves to be taken seriously here. Individual ambition does not always need an explicitly public purpose to produce public benefits. A person may build a business for profit, compete for customers or seek professional recognition, yet in the process create jobs, develop useful products, improve services or expand knowledge. In discussing how merchants employ their capital, Adam Smith observed that the pursuit of private gain could, under particular conditions, promote an end the individual had not intended.^[7] This is a significant insight, but it should not be turned into a universal law. Markets do not automatically reward what is socially valuable: monopoly, deception, exploitation, pollution and the shifting of costs onto others can make private gains diverge from public welfare. The point is not that self-interest must disappear, or that every ambition should be motivated by altruism. It is that the rules within which people pursue their interests matter. Fair competition, truthful information, enforceable agreements and accountable institutions help make individual advancement compatible with wider prosperity.

Purpose, integrity and justice are therefore not merely additional considerations to be balanced against income, status or professional advancement. They are standards by which ambition itself must be judged. If an outcome depends upon deception or imposes unfair costs on others, its achievement does not make it worthy. We must ask not only what was gained, but how it was obtained and who paid for it.

Relationships, too, are not merely rewards that we can look forward to after achieving professional success. They are an important part of life in which we exercise our responsibilities. A parent who provides financially but remains permanently unavailable, a friend who treats every relationship as expendable, or a professional who expects others to bear the consequences of their relentless pursuit of advancement may possess impressive achievements, but at the same time allow some of the most important parts of life to deteriorate.

Research has found longitudinal associations between work–family conflict and adverse mental-health outcomes. A systematic review and meta-analysis published by Liu and colleagues in 2026 examined 52 studies involving more than 112,000 participants. The authors also acknowledge that the evidence is observational and that much of it comes from Western high-income and Chinese settings, which means that the findings should not be treated as a universal causal conclusion.^[4] Nevertheless, it does remind us that the costs associated with our professional ambitions are real and deserve attention. We should not simply dismiss them as an unavoidable price of success.

Another interesting distinction emerges from a meta-analysis of 105 studies conducted by Bradshaw and colleagues. The research found that aspirations related to personal growth, close relationships, health and community contribution were associated with well-being. Extrinsic aspirations, such as wealth, fame and appearance, were not necessarily associated with poorer well-being simply because people possessed them. The more concerning pattern emerged when these aspirations began to dominate over other important goals.^[3]

Wanting financial success is not the same as making it the entire purpose of one's life.

We should therefore be careful not to fall into either of two extremes. Material ambition is not inherently corrupting, but neither is every form of individual advancement necessarily good. Wealth, influence, technical skill and professional recognition can all be valuable, depending upon how they are acquired and what we choose to do with them. The question is whether these achievements are guided by sound judgement and whether their pursuit respects the dignity and legitimate interests of other people.

Meaningful ambition does not require every young person to pursue an extraordinary public mission. A nation needs researchers and entrepreneurs, but also reliable teachers, honest administrators, skilled technicians, thoughtful caregivers and responsible business owners. Much of what keeps a society functioning is done by people whose work receives little public recognition.

One way to examine an ambition is to ask what would remain of its value if recognition disappeared. Is the work worth doing because it develops understanding, meets a genuine need, sustains a family, creates something useful or upholds a principle? Would we defend its means if everyone knew how the result was achieved? Has the pursuit made us more capable of acting responsibly, or merely more effective at obtaining what we want?

Such questions do not diminish ambition; they clarify what it is for.

Nation-Building Begins Before We Lead

When we speak about nation-building, our attention generally moves towards large events and visible positions of responsibility: elections, government policies, major scientific achievements, economic growth and national leadership. All of these are important, but I think we often overlook the fact that a nation is also shaped by the everyday conduct of its people and the standards that gradually become part of its institutions and social relationships.

Public life is not entirely separate from private conduct. In many ways, it is the accumulated result of it.

A researcher who reports an inconvenient result instead of manipulating data helps preserve the reliability of scientific knowledge. An engineer who refuses to conceal a safety defect protects people who may never even know that such a decision was made. A teacher who evaluates students honestly preserves the meaning of education, while a business owner who honours contracts and discloses costs helps maintain trust in commerce. These may appear to be individual acts, but each of them helps protect something on which other people depend: reliable knowledge, public safety, fair assessment and confidence in agreements.

None of these actions, by themselves, can eliminate corruption, unemployment, institutional failure or inequality. Personal integrity cannot substitute for sound laws, accountable government, quality education or fair economic opportunities. Yet institutions also depend on the conduct of those who work within them. When shortcuts become normal, trust erodes; when competence is accompanied by integrity, cooperation becomes easier.

There is also a larger process at work here, and it brings us back to the way society defines success. When people repeatedly observe that dishonesty is rewarded while honest conduct is treated as a disadvantage, they may gradually begin to believe that integrity is impractical. If institutions, instead, recognise sound work, fair dealing and responsible judgement, these standards become easier to maintain. Neither outcome is automatic, and individual behaviour cannot explain every institutional success or failure. But there is certainly a relationship between the two: the rules and incentives of an institution influence how people behave, while the choices of those people also determine whether its standards retain their meaning.

This is why young people's ambitions matter before they occupy positions of leadership. Every generation inherits institutions it did not create and problems it did not choose, but it also helps decide what those institutions become. A young employee who excuses dishonesty, a student who treats cheating as harmless or a professional who regards public responsibility as someone else's concern is already shaping social norms. So is the young person who challenges wrongdoing, owns a mistake or refuses to exploit someone in a weaker position.

The Constitution of India gives this broader understanding of citizenship an important expression through Article 51A, which sets out the Fundamental Duties of citizens. These include promoting harmony across religious, linguistic and regional differences, protecting the natural environment, developing scientific temper, humanism, inquiry and reform, safeguarding public property, and striving for excellence in individual and collective activity.^[6] These duties remind us that citizenship is not limited to enjoying the rights and opportunities provided by a nation. It also involves a responsibility towards the society of which we are a part. Excellence, therefore, is not merely an individual accomplishment; it is something that a nation should strive to achieve collectively.

At the same time, responsibility should not become an excuse for blaming individuals for circumstances they have very little control over. Young people do not begin their lives with equal access to quality education, financial resources, family support, professional networks or freedom from discrimination. Some are required to prioritise immediate survival over long-term aspirations, while others may find themselves working within institutions where honest conduct is discouraged and opportunities are unfairly distributed. It would be unjust to suggest that their difficulties are simply the result of a lack of ambition or character.

Responsibility for nation-building is shared, though not equally distributed. Individuals must use their abilities sincerely and act with integrity. Families and educational institutions must teach more than competition and credentials. Employers must not reward harmful conduct simply because it produces short-term results. Public institutions must create fair opportunities and remain accountable. Society cannot reasonably demand responsibility from young people while withholding the conditions needed to exercise it.

Young people can participate in this work without holding formal positions of authority. They may tutor or mentor students, contribute to local environmental initiatives, take part in professional or civic associations, help address problems in their neighbourhoods, participate in local decision-making and follow up on public commitments. Such activity does not replace effective government; it helps communities articulate their needs, develop their capacities and make institutions more responsive.

Nor should patriotism be understood as remaining silent whenever something goes wrong. Commitment to one's country may require questioning unjust institutions, wasted public resources or the denial of citizens' dignity. Scientific temper, inquiry and reform are among the Constitution's own duties. Criticism need not express contempt for a country; it can reflect a desire to make it more worthy of its people.

Nation-building is neither a demand that young people sacrifice every personal aspiration nor a promise that private success will automatically benefit society. An enterprise may create useful products, employment and knowledge; it may also secure private gain by shifting costs onto workers, customers or the public. Whether individual advancement contributes to the common good depends on personal conduct and on the institutional rules that reward or restrain it.

The Measure of Ambition

The youth of a nation need opportunities, education, material security and the freedom to build lives of their own choosing. They should be encouraged to learn, excel, earn well, develop their abilities and pursue difficult goals. But alongside all this, they must also develop the ability to question their own ambitions and examine whether the things they are striving for are actually worth achieving.

A society that teaches its young people only how to compete may eventually leave them with the impression that winning is sufficient justification for whatever they do. But a society that teaches them to examine the purpose and means of their achievements gives them a much better chance of building lives that are not only successful, but also meaningful and worthy.

We need neither an idealised past nor a rejection of modern aspirations for simplicity's sake. We should use the opportunities of the present while remaining guided by honesty, justice, responsibility, care and excellence. These values do not oppose development; they help determine what it should achieve, who should benefit and what must not be sacrificed.

We do not need a generation with less ambition. We need one that understands the difference between advancement and worth, recognition and respect, and private gain and genuine achievement. A person should be able to rise without deception, prosper without exploitation, lead without domination and succeed without making other people bear the hidden costs of that success.

Perhaps the measure of ambition is not simply how far a person manages to rise, but what happens to others—and to the society we share—because they rose.

References

1. International Labour Organization and Institute for Human Development. India Employment Report 2024: Youth Employment, Education and Skills. 2024. ILO publication page.
2. Killingsworth, M. A., Kahneman, D., & Mellers, B. “Income and Emotional Well-Being: A Conflict Resolved.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 120, no. 10 (2023): e2208661120. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2208661120.
3. Bradshaw, E. L., Conigrave, J. H., Steward, B. A., Ferber, K. A., Parker, P. D., & Ryan, R. M. “A Meta-Analysis of the Dark Side of the American Dream: Evidence for the Universal Wellness Costs of Prioritizing Extrinsic over Intrinsic Goals.” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 124, no. 4 (2023): 873–899. https://doi.org/10.1037/pspp0000431.
4. Liu, D., Ni, Y., Ma, T. S. W., Fan, X., Zhan, Y., Lam, I. H. L., et al. “Work-Family Conflict and Mental Health: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis.” PLOS Medicine 23, no. 7 (2026): e1005162. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pmed.1005162.
5. Gandhi, M. K. “Seven Social Sins.” Young India, 22 October 1925, reproduced in The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 33. The list is presented as sent by a “fair friend.” Collected Works, vol. 33 (PDF).
6. Government of India, Legislative Department. The Constitution of India, Part IVA, Article 51A: Fundamental Duties. Official Constitution text (PDF).
7. Smith, Adam. An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (1776), Book IV, Chapter II. Text of Book IV, Chapter II.