Aesop’s fable tells of a fly sitting on the axle of a chariot wheel, boasting, “Look at the dust I’m raising!” This is a perfect image for vain people. Even when their role is minor in something much larger, they believe the success depends on them alone. Such people often cause trouble, as their pride relies on comparison. They exaggerate to maintain their self-image, are unable to keep secrets, and therefore achieve little. The French saying captures it well: “Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit”—“Much noise, little result.”
That said, vainglory (showing off/ arrogance) does have its uses in society. When there’s a need to create an image of virtue or greatness, these types can act as great promoters. As the historian Livy noted in the case of Antiochus and the Aetolians, exaggeration can have powerful effects. For instance, a negotiator between two rulers might overstate each side’s strength to push them into an alliance against a third party. Or, someone mediating between two individuals may inflate their influence to gain trust. In such cases, lies often lead to belief, and belief can create real outcomes. As they say, perception becomes reality.
In war, a little vainglory is almost essential. Soldiers and commanders draw courage from the pride and ambition of their peers. When attempting bold and risky ventures, having ambitious and self-assured individuals can energise the entire effort. On the other hand, those with steadier, more cautious temperaments provide balance but may lack the drive to set things in motion.
Even in the pursuit of knowledge, some level of showmanship helps. Without a touch of vanity, the progress of learning would be slow. Many great thinkers—Socrates, Aristotle, and Galen—embraced a certain amount of ostentation, whether they admitted it or not. It’s no coincidence that those who write about rejecting glory often make sure to put their own name on the cover of their books. Vainglory helps preserve a person’s legacy. The fame of Cicero, Seneca, and Pliny the Elder owes much to their willingness to stand out. Vanity, like a coat of varnish, doesn’t just make something shine—it helps it endure.
However, not all vainglory is the same. Tacitus described Mucianus as someone who displayed all his deeds with skill and tact. This wasn’t empty vanity but natural confidence and discernment. In the right people, this kind of self-assurance is not only admirable but also charming. Even humility and modesty, when done skilfully, are forms of subtle self-promotion. Among these strategies, none is more effective than the one Pliny the Younger recommends: generously praising others, especially in areas where you excel. Pliny wisely notes, “When you commend another, you honour yourself. If the person you praise is beneath you, your achievements appear even greater. If they are above you, your humility gains you more respect.”
In the end, vainglorious people are mocked by the wise, admired by the foolish, worshipped by flatterers, and enslaved by their own boasting.
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