If someone wanted to learn what Princeton stands for, it would not take very long. Ask any student, and chances are they will quickly respond with the following ten words: “Princeton in the nation’s service and the service of humanity.” Enter Princeton’s campus, and, in front of Nassau Hall, you will see those words carved into the medallion that rests at the intersection of the walkways. Read the Daily Princetonian’s “Welcome Class of 2027” issue or attend any ceremonial event, from freshman orientation to graduation, and this motto will be seared into your psyche.
As a freshman beginning the process of discovering what it means to be a Princetonian, I looked to this oft-quoted catchphrase as a guide. Yet each time I heard it, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed, for I find it rings hollow; it is in want of a more genuine message. At first glance, the phrase values public service, a venerable goal. However, the issue lies with the phrase’s ambiguity: what, precisely, does it mean to serve humanity?
The notion of serving humanity implicitly assumes an ideal humanity ought to reach – call it “the good” – but our motto does not explain what this ideal is. Without any conception of the good, each individual is forced to determine what the good is for him or herself. In leaving this decision open to interpretation, our informal motto could endorse a number of dangerous conceptions of the good, where the desirability of an action is judged through a consequentialist lens, determined solely by its effect on human wellbeing. It is the magnitude of your service, the amount of ‘positive change’ you affect, that determines how valuable a Princetonian you truly are.
The issue with such an ethos is that it considers the good to be external from service instead of internal to it, measuring “goodness” in terms of impact rather than as a process. For instance, within popular movements like Effective Altruism, which aims to find the best way to help others, chasing money and power is no longer considered morally dubious because of the high “use value” they possess. To Princeton’s administration, race-based discrimination is justifiable because diversity is a desirable end. Within classrooms, this consequentialism fosters “inclusive” orthodoxy because inclusivity ostensibly leads to greater happiness. As a result, the pursuit of truth takes the backseat: if your pursuit of truth will result in offending a peer, it may no longer be intrinsically important.
The obvious irony here is that if Princeton is to genuinely be a force for good, this privileging of ends over means must stop; we must not allow the good to be conceived of as external. Instead, we must act according to a conception of the good that offers principles for action, as well as an end. As alluded to above, the consequences of not doing so are dire. Not only will the University’s purported mission of truth-seeking be corrupted, but the University can and will become an agent of harm. Lest we forget, the subjugation of principle to positive impact turned Sam Bankman-Fried, a well-intentioned effective altruist, into a criminal. The impact-at-all-costs mentality banned legitimate scientific opinions on Twitter. The all-consuming desire for a more equal society paved the path for the Communist and Fascist totalitarianism of the 20th century.
Indeed, many of us know this – and Princeton knows it too. Our formal motto, Dei Sub Numine Viget (“Under God’s Power, She Flourishes”) captures the idea clearly. Here, human wellbeing – flourishing – is still important, but it is only achievable under God’s power, a power which requires (and enables) one to follow certain unwavering principles. It thereby proposes an alternative, albeit paradoxical, conception of service, but the one which we should embrace: serving humanity is only made possible by serving transcendent virtues, which are themselves unconcerned with human affairs. Your belief, or lack thereof, in God(s), is beside the point: only accountability to higher principles, not a calculating pragmatism, will maintain both the means and the ends necessary for real service.
Unlike our current slogan, Princeton’s formal motto definitively explicates this ideal – namely, that flourishing is still the good, but a flourishing that is inextricably linked to virtue. In doing so, the motto graces us with a blueprint on how to orient ourselves, a standard for how to act that does not leave us stranded, alone, and busy grasping for ethical frameworks that are fundamentally empty, if not downright dangerous.
It is unfortunate, then, that our formal motto is no longer our go-to catchphrase. A motto defines a community. It is the reflection of a community’s values and of what it strives to become. It provides direction, positing an ideal toward which every individual within the community can aspire. To choose our motto is to decide who we are. So, which motto should we embody? Our formal motto or the informal one? A community of principled flourishing, or a community of impact without principle? The answer should be obvious.
The above is an opinion contribution and reflects the author’s views alone.
(Photo courtesy of Princeton’s Office of Communications)
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