Do you want to change the world? “Then stop wasting your talent and start putting your ideals to work,” writes Rutger Bregman in his book Moral Ambition. At its core, Bregman’s book is a call to redefine success—not by wealth or prestige, but by doing good. He offers a moral compass that requires more than good intentions or systemic critique; it demands purposeful action. And that, Bregman argues, is sorely needed. Many ambitious, university-educated young people end up in careers that sustain unequal systems rather than challenge them. These consultants, policy advisors, and lawyers waste their talent and energy in roles that ultimately don’t matter. “Ambition is merely raw energy,” Bregman writes. The crucial question is: “What will
you do with it?”
In his book, Bregman highlights a number of morally driven individuals who dedicated themselves to a greater cause. Think of Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, lawyer Ralph Nader, and Joey Savoie, founder of a nonprofit school. Be like them. Let yourself be “infected” by the mindset of Moral Ambition: build coalitions, start enterprises, and invest your talents in solving the malaria epidemic in Uganda or abolishing factory farming.
The timing of Bregman’s call is no coincidence—especially in an era where political debate is marred by climate denial and the demonization and exclusion of “the other.” What we need is a hopeful narrative, one that compels us to act not just in our own interest, but in the interest of others.
Who Decides What Is Good?
At the same time, Bregman’s approach raises important questions—particularly for those working in institutions like universities, where acceleration, performance pressure, and quantifiable outcomes often outweigh care and collaboration. How realistic is it to place the moral compass in the hands of individuals? Who, in the end, decides what “doing good” means—and for whom?
Moral Ambition, in Bregman’s portrayal, often comes across as a form of heroism: the story of a gifted intellectual who, through a sudden moral awakening, sets out to save the world. Notably, it’s only toward the end of the book that Bregman circles back to a lingering tension many readers will have felt: isn’t it precisely that immense responsibility—this moral weight—that paralyses younger generations? Must the bar be raised even higher? Should we start more businesses and NGOs, raise more funds, and invest even more in venture capital?
Moral Ambition—like broad prosperity—sounds compelling, but means little without clarity about who belongs. And those who wish to do good might also start by looking around them. Morality already exists—in collectives, in movements. We are not alone.
