The Dangers of Unchecked Ambition and Its Ethical Consequences in "Frankenstein"

Written during the height of the Romantic era, an age captivated by the promises of scientific progress and human mastery over nature, Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein is a cautionary tale. Shelley presents Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s monster as a symbol of creative destruction, born from scientific innovation yet embodying the emotional and social consequences of disrupting nature’s natural boundaries. Drawing on the myth of Prometheus, Shelley critiques the hubris of men in science who seek godlike power, exposing how such ambition reinforces destructive hierarchies of class and gender. Through the monster’s internal rejection of self, Victor’s obsessive pursuit of progress, and the silencing of female voices, Frankenstein reveals how unchecked ambition, when divorced from empathy and moral responsibility, dismantles both social cohesion and individual identity. Shelley critiques a society that prioritizes intellect over compassion, demonstrating that innovation, when separated from an understanding of the natural world and ethical accountability, leads not to human advancement but to creative destruction; such indifference can lead to the unleashing of powers more destructive than creative.

Both Victor Frankenstein and the mythic Prometheus share a desire to wield the power of creation, defying natural and divine limits in the process. Yet while their actions may mirror one another in ambition, their intentions stand in stark contrast. Prometheus, in Greek mythology, stole fire from the gods to uplift humanity, making an act of self-sacrifice rooted in compassion, even at the cost of the gods’ anger. Victor, on the other hand, pursues the creation of life and the end of mortality-driven suffering not out of altruism, but out of a deeply personal obsession: to conquer death, soothe his grief, and achieve recognition from the scientific elite. When discussing what drives him, Victor tells Robert that “The labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fial in ultiamekty turning to the solid advantage of mankind” (Shelley 31). His motives are cloaked in the language of progress, yet Shelley reveals them to be self-serving and ultimately hollow, becoming clear with his creative directional choices. When he asks himself, “did the principle of life proceed”, he turns to defiling the resting dead, urging that he “must also observe the natural decay and corruption of the human body” (Shelley 33). Unlike Prometheus, Victor’s act of defiance is not grounded in empathy, but in ego, marking the beginning of a creative endeavor that, rather than aiding the suffering, leads to its unraveling of the society he surrounds himself with.

Victor’s adverse scientific feats are also accompanied by an ill-understanding of true societal and human defects. He described his work as a counter to the “corruption of death” and how they will “succeed to the blooming cheeks of life” (Shelley 38). Believing death as a corruption is a clear indication of a warped perspective, one that sees the natural cycle of life as a flaw to be corrected. Victor misidentifies the true sources of suffering, not mortality itself, but the emotional, social, and structural failures that isolate individuals and ultimately the monster. His scientific goals, then, are not a solution to human pain, but a distraction from its deeper causes, ultimately resulting in an unraveling of progress.

A product of Victor’s unchecked ambition and born through innovation, the monster is denied the nurture and belonging that are essential to emotional development and societal integration. Abandoned by Victor as a parental figure, the confused monster turns to the DeLacey family. His innate innocence and empathy towards the loving family led him to stop stealing their food, as he felt for their struggles with poverty. Through his fascination with the family dynamic he is presented with, the monster found that “these people possessed a method of communicating their experiences and feelings to one another by articulating sounds” (Shelley 88), and the monster learns the power of effective communication in response to the complexity of human emotions. Despite his efforts to connect with the De Laceys, using said communication skills, his physical form makes him an object of fear and repulsion, reinforcing his isolation, and results in his declaration of violence hence forth against “the species…and he who sent me forth to this insupportable misery.” (Shelley 111). In this way, Shelley highlights how Victor’s creation, intended as a triumph of science, ultimately produces a being whose emotional and social development is stunted, naturally, by rejection and neglect. This devastating dismissal by its chosen family results in vengeful actions that reveal how the absence of empathy, care, and societal acceptance can transform innovation into destruction. 

Revolted by the human species, the monster’s wish is for a female partner of his kind, now lustful desire for companionship. Victor’s denying the monster of a female companion is choice which deliberately denies him a community. In depriving the monster of the opportunity for connection, Victor not only abandons his responsibility as a creator and original grounds for his experimentation, but also deepens the monster’s internal rejection of self. He presents cowardice after having initiated it all, after creating a being without allowing it the pursuit of happiness, and shudders “ to think that future ages might curse me as their pest, ehos selfish acts did not hesitate” (Shelley 138). This moment of dread underscores the central irony of creative destruction, that in his attempt to create life and overcome mortality, Victor destroys both his own happiness and that of his creation. While seeking to conquer suffering surrounding death, Victor instead creates a being that suffers deeply, and furthers its suffering with this betrayal. This final, very personal rejection ignites the monster’s indomitable rage, setting off the chain of murders that follow William’s death, including the killings of Henry Clerval and Elizabeth Lavenza.

The monster’s hardship is an ode to the importance of the coalition of the humanities within the sciences. The monster’s internal decay mirrors the broader societal collapse that occurs when progress values intellect over compassion, emphasizing that true innovation must be guided by an understanding of moral accountability. It’s why, I believe, that Shelley refrains from heavily discussing the scientific details of how Victor created the monster, instead, she shifts focus to the emotional and ethical consequences of his ambition. Jason Scott Robert, an expert in life sciences, deduces that when Mary Shelley was writing Frankenstein, “she was experiencing a rapidlychanging world. So, too, are we, as we reread her story.” (Robert). By stripping the novel of scientific specifics, Shelley universalizes the story’s warning, the danger of creation without responsibility, ambition without humility, and knowledge without wisdom. 

She does this with Victor’s displays of cowardice toward his creative duties as an initiator, exemplified by the fact that “Victor Frankenstein’s depravity toward his creature—his 'daemon,' the 'miserable monster' whom he deserts at the moment of creation and who goes on to behave exactly as such in a sort-of self-fulfilling prophecy.” (Robert). He hides his disturbed creative fantasies behind his science, and this is embodied explicitly in the monster he created, further emphasized in Robert’s assertion that “He is willing to take the risk that things might go badly in order to soothe his own conscience about having made the creature in the first place” (Robert). Hauntingly, this is forewarned during the monster’s first encounter with fire, for when it saw the light and warmth it stuck its hand into it, immediately withdrawing from the pain. The monster claims “how strange, I thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects” (Shelley 81). In Frankenstein, the monster’s suffering is not just a product of Victor’s science, but of Victor’s inhumanity, revealing that the real monstrosity lies not in the innovation itself, but in the abdication of moral and emotional responsibility that must accompany every act of creation. 

Just as the monster’s physical form makes him a target for fear and hatred, it also reflects society’s obsession with superficiality and conformity. The flaw of scientists and creatives alike is the inability to aid in progress whilst engaging in a morally bankrup society. One that is fascinated with unnatural creation, and engrossed with class and gender-based discrimination works to marginalize those deemed "other," a critique Shelley builds into the novel’s broader narrative. This disregard for natural boundaries incorporated into marginalization is also symbolized in the fates of Elizabeth and Justine, whose deaths reveal how their reproductive power, embodied in their ability to create, nurture, and to give life, is seen as insignificant or irrelevant in the face of Victor's obsession with artificial creation.

Elizabeth, Victor's fiancée, and Justine, the innocent servant girl who tended to William, both face tragic deaths that highlight the devaluation of female life and agency in the narrative. Their ability to nurture and bring forth life, a cornerstone of human existence, is ignored by Victor, who, in his drive to create life unnaturally through scientific means, disregards the very essence of human connection and the ethical consequences of his actions. Justine’s death, a consequence of the monster’s vengeance and the close-minded values of the court, highlights the societal tendency to disregard the inherent dignity and worth of those without power, leading to her wrongful execution for the murder of the child she cared for. Elizabeth confirms this, exclaiming to Justine moments before death that she “relied on her innocence”  and that her death is an “evil too poignant to admit of consolation…there is no hope” (Shelley 66-67). 

Elizabeth’s death, at the hands of the monster, follows Victor’s refusal to create a female companion for the creature. Her death allows for this claim from Victor, that “life is obstinate, and clings closest where it is most hated” (Shelley 165). This tragedy as consequence of the defference towards the monster’s desire for companionship is pivotal, it not only cements Victor’s failure as a creator, but it also expels the two female characters from the narrative. Their deaths serve as symbols of how Victor never acknowledges the implications of his creation on those who can naturally bring forth life, Elizabeth and Justine. In doing so, Shelley critiques a world that values power and control over the nurturing forces of compassion, empathy, and natural order. The murders of Elizabeth and Justine are a clear demonstration of how the pursuit of unchecked progress, particularly one that defies natural boundaries, leads to the erasure and victimization of female voices, silencing those who could potentially offer the nurturing and ethical grounding that Victor’s ambition so desperately lacks.

Thus, the deaths of Elizabeth and Justine represent more than just individual tragedies, they symbolize the broader social and cultural forces that undervalue the contributions of women, particularly in the realms of nurturing and ethical leadership. Frankenstein critiques a world that elevates powerand intellectual mastery over the natural and moral order, where the pursuit of scientific progress and innovation often eclipses the fundamental human need for compassion. Elizabeth and Justine’s roles as nurturers and whom exude innocence, figures who, by their very nature, represent the emotional and ethical grounding that Victor’s ambition so desperately lacks, are rendered meaningless in the face of Victor’s single-minded drive for control. Their deaths ultimately serve as a powerful critique of a world that marginalizes those who, through their gender and societal status, are relegated to the periphery of both scientific and emotional discourse. Frankenstein reveals the erasure of female voices and the silencing of those who could offer the very moral and ethical grounding that the world so desperately needs in the face of unchecked ambition.

Frankenstein stands as a powerful critique of the unchecked pursuit of progress, especially when driven by selfish ambition and divorced from moral and ethical considerations, leading to creations more destructive than they are creative. Mary Shelley explores the consequences of disregarding nature's boundaries, emphasizing that innovation without empathy and responsibility can lead to both personal and societal destruction. Victor’s obsession with surpassing natural limits parallels the mythic tale of Prometheus, but his ambition, unlike Prometheus’s self-sacrifice, is rooted in ego and a desire for control, with little regard for the lives that are impacted by his actions. The deaths of Elizabeth and Justine and the monster’s internal struggle highlight the emotional and societal toll of Victor’s refusal to recognize the importance of compassion, connection, and responsibility in the process of creation. Shelley’s novel underscores a crucial message, being that true progress is not measured solely by intellectual achievement, but by the moral and emotional accountability that must accompany it. Ultimately, Shelley’s novel warns against a world that values progress at the expense of compassion, showing that such a path only breeds destruction and alienation.

 Works Cited

Robert, Jason Scott. “Rereading Frankenstein : What If Victor Frankenstein Had Actually Been Evil?” Hastings Center Report, vol. 48, no. 6, Nov. 2018, pp. 21–24, https://doi.org/10.1002/hast.933.