By Matt Finnis, Cranlana CEO.
Earlier this week, I sat amongst a community of proud parents listening to an array of speeches delivered by members of my son’s graduating year 12 class.
And whilst the photographs, in-jokes and tales of adventure from the schoolyard, camps and sporting fields rekindled my nostalgia, it was a closing, stirring reference to a familiar yet faintly antique expression – the school motto, “labore et honore” which led to a deeper reflection.
It’s the kind of phrase that has long featured on blazers and honour boards, but amidst the noise of the short-form content so prized by TikTok and Instagram, it feels more like a moral language from another age.
As student leaders spoke about their hopes for the future, I found myself wondering what honour really means to a generation inheriting a world of uncertainty, disposable celebrity and fading trust.
I’m not sure when it happened, but it feels like the word honour has quietly slipped from our vocabulary.
Maybe it’s just my role, but in my experience, we regularly talk about values, ethics, and integrity, but rarely about honour.
And if we do, it feels either self-righteous or outdated – think knights of the roundtable or duelling pistols to resolve disputes.
If I do reflect on our work at Cranlana, the present-day value inherent in a concept (let alone capability) which links individual dignity with social respect, as honour does, is definitely a commodity worth buying into.
Because the value of honour lies in its layers – it certainly has a strong reputational element, but at a deeper level, honour involves seeing yourself as worthy of esteem because your conduct upholds something larger than the self.
Perhaps honour fell from favour because it became entangled with hierarchy and exclusivity – the domain of nobles, officers, and old codes that no longer met our ambition for a more inclusive, democratic society. In the modern era, bureaucracies and big corporations encouraged us to place our trust in systems more than in character, in rules more than conscience. And integrity has become procedural, often a department or job title, measured through compliance rather than conviction.
Yet in stripping honour from our moral language, we may have lost a vital thread; that sense of personal accountability which connects intrinsic dignity with extrinsic virtue.
Philosopher Kwame Anthony Appiah reminds us that over time, honour has played a key role in our shared language of morality to connect individual conduct with social esteem.
Furthermore, he argues that the kind of moral revolutions necessary for a society which respects the inherent dignity in all citizens occur not simply when people recognise an injustice, but when old codes of honour become indefensible and new ones take their place.
Practices once normalised such as duelling, foot-binding and even slavery didn’t end merely because they were judged wrong, Appiah observed in his book The Honour Code. Rather they ended because societies came to see them as foolish, barbaric and shameful.
As stains on their nation’s honour.
Image: Kwame Appiah
If Appiah is right that moral revolutions begin with shifts in what we find honourable, then perhaps our next revolution lies not in technology but in rediscovering honour as a compass for conduct – sure, for school students, but equally for leaders, companies and public institutions.
As a parent I fear the shifting social norms that prize self-expression over self-restraint and autonomy over obligation. And I worry about the new ‘honour codes’ being written by algorithms that reward outrage over understanding, and division over nuance.
Yet I’m hopeful.
In the green shoots I hear in conversations with tomorrow’s leaders I sense a recognition that the society they will shape must confer honour differently.
That winning at all costs is no real victory.
That speaking uncomfortable truths is a form of courage.
That banking short-term gains at the expense of long-term sustainability is not being a good ancestor.
For contemporary leaders navigating layers of metrics and KPIs, honour might yet be the compass that helps us navigate what truly matters. Maybe honour ought not be discarded as a relic of the past but actively fostered as a critical resource for the future.
As they step beyond the familiar surrounds of school, I hope my son and his classmates discover new ways to pair effort with honour, and in so doing, help build not just better organisations, but a more trustworthy society.
Where does honour show up for you in the noise of a digital and disrupted world?
It’s a conversation worth having, in an environment set up for thoughtful, respectful sharing of perspectives. The capacity for generative dialogue is a core tenet in our methodology. Explore our programs here:
