A-Infos (en) NZ, Aotearoa, AWSM: No Honours From the King (ca, de, fr, it, pt, tr)[machine translation]

Every New Year and every King's Birthday the same ritual unfolds. 
Newspapers publish lists of names. Politicians offer congratulations. 
Television presenters speak of service and achievement. Photographs 
appear of smiling recipients standing beside representatives of the 
Crown. For a few days the country is invited to celebrate the latest 
round of honours bestowed in the King's name. Most people barely notice. 
Some see it as harmless recognition for good work. Others regard it as a 
quaint tradition left over from another age. Yet beneath the polite 
language and ceremonial pageantry sits a question that deserves far more 
attention than it receives -why should anybody accept honours from a 
king at all?

For anarchists, the answer seems obvious. We oppose monarchy because we 
oppose hereditary power. We oppose the idea that some people are born 
into positions of authority over others. We reject the notion that one 
family should occupy a privileged place within society simply because of 
bloodline. The British monarchy represents one of the oldest surviving 
examples of inherited status in the world. Accepting honours from the 
Crown therefore means accepting recognition from an institution whose 
existence rests upon principles fundamentally opposed to equality. The 
issue, however, goes deeper than opposition to monarchy alone. The 
honours system is not simply about medals, titles and certificates. It 
performs a political function. It helps maintain respect for existing 
structures of power. It encourages people to seek validation from those 
structures. It reinforces the idea that achievement acquires greater 
significance when recognised from above.

Human beings have always sought recognition. There is nothing strange 
about that. People want their efforts appreciated. They want their 
sacrifices acknowledged. They want to know that what they have done 
matters. The question is who provides that recognition and what values 
are expressed through it.

When a community thanks a person for years of service, that recognition 
comes from below. It emerges from relationships between equals. When 
workers celebrate a fellow worker, or neighbours honour someone who has 
contributed to collective life, the recognition belongs to the people 
directly affected. State honours operate differently. They flow 
downward. They originate from institutions that stand above society. 
Their value depends entirely upon the prestige attached to those 
institutions. The recipient is expected to feel honoured because the 
recognition comes from the Crown.

This is why honours have always been attractive to ruling classes. They 
provide a means of distributing status without distributing power. They 
allow elites to reward loyalty while presenting the reward as public 
gratitude. They create a hierarchy of prestige that sits alongside 
economic and political hierarchies. The language surrounding honours 
often obscures this reality. We are told that recipients are recognised 
for their service. Service to whom? Service according to whose 
standards? These questions rarely receive serious attention.

The honours system reflects the priorities of the state because it is 
administered by the state. Decisions are shaped by political 
institutions, official committees and social networks. People whose work 
aligns comfortably with existing structures are more likely to receive 
recognition than those who challenge those structures. History offers 
many examples. Trade union militants, anti-colonial activists, 
revolutionary organisers and other opponents of established power have 
rarely been showered with honours while they are actively engaged in 
struggle. Governments tend to reward those who contribute to social 
stability as defined by governments themselves.

This does not mean every recipient consciously supports the status quo. 
Many are decent people who have devoted years to helping others. Some 
have spent their lives caring for vulnerable people, building community 
organisations or advancing worthwhile causes. Their contributions may be 
genuine and substantial. The problem lies not primarily with individual 
recipients but with the institution conferring the award.

Good people can become symbols for bad systems. The state understands 
this perfectly well. By honouring respected figures, it borrows some of 
their moral credibility. Their achievements become attached to the 
prestige of the Crown. The relationship works in both directions. The 
recipient receives recognition. The institution gains legitimacy.

In Aotearoa New Zealand this dynamic carries a particular historical 
weight. The Crown is not an abstract constitutional arrangement floating 
above history. It is a living institution deeply connected to 
colonisation. The authority exercised by the British Crown provided the 
framework through which land was seized, resistance was crushed and 
Maori communities were subjected to generations of dispossession.

The New Zealand state often presents itself as separate from these 
events, as though colonial violence belongs to a distant past 
disconnected from present institutions. Yet the Crown remains central to 
the constitutional order established through colonisation. Governments 
act in the name of the Crown. Courts derive authority from the Crown. 
Public servants serve the Crown. Against this backdrop, accepting 
honours from the monarch acquires a different significance. The award 
cannot be separated from the institution granting it. The medal may 
appear small. The ceremony may seem harmless. Yet the symbolism remains.

For Maori activists who have spent decades resisting Crown power, this 
contradiction has often been impossible to ignore. Some have declined 
honours on precisely these grounds. They recognised that acceptance 
would conflict with the principles they had spent their lives defending. 
Others have accepted, arguing that the honour reflects recognition for 
their communities rather than allegiance to the monarchy. The debate 
reveals genuine tensions. It is not always straightforward.

Anarchists should approach such decisions with humility rather than 
moral grandstanding. People make choices for complex reasons. Some 
recipients see acceptance as an opportunity to draw attention to causes 
they care about. Others view the award as recognition shared with wider 
communities. Condemnation alone rarely produces useful political 
discussion. At the same time, political honesty requires us to examine 
what honours actually represent.

Imagine a society organised around equality and mutual aid. Imagine a 
society in which people collectively control the conditions of their 
lives. In such a society, would anybody require validation from a 
hereditary monarch living on the opposite side of the world? Would 
social contribution become more meaningful because a king approved of 
it? The question sounds absurd because it is absurd.

The prestige attached to honours depends upon social conditioning. From 
childhood we are taught that kings, queens, governors-general and other 
figures of authority possess special importance. Ceremonies reinforce 
this lesson. Flags, uniforms, titles and rituals reinforce it again. 
Over time many people come to regard these symbols as natural. Yet there 
is nothing natural about them.

No infant enters the world believing one family possesses a divine or 
hereditary right to occupy palaces. No child spontaneously develops 
reverence for crowns and aristocratic titles. Such attitudes must be 
cultivated. The honours system contributes to that cultivation. It 
reproduces respect for hierarchy under the guise of gratitude.

This is one reason republicans often oppose honours linked to the 
monarchy. Even those who do not identify as anarchists recognise the 
contradiction between democratic ideals and hereditary institutions. If 
all citizens are supposed to be equal, why should recognition derive 
from a royal family? Anarchists take the criticism further. The problem 
is not simply hereditary power. The problem is authority itself. We 
oppose systems that place some people above others. We oppose 
arrangements that encourage deference and obedience. We seek forms of 
social organisation based upon cooperation among equals.

Honours pull in the opposite direction. They encourage people to look 
upward for approval. They suggest that achievement becomes complete only 
after official recognition arrives. Many extraordinary people have 
rejected this logic. Throughout history radicals, artists, writers and 
activists have declined honours because they understood the political 
symbolism involved. Some refused knighthoods. Others rejected state 
awards entirely. Their decisions reflected a simple conviction - the 
value of their work did not depend upon endorsement from authority. That 
position deserves greater respect than it often receives.

Modern capitalism constantly pressures people to seek external 
validation. Success becomes measured through titles, credentials, 
rankings and awards. Every sphere of life acquires its hierarchy. People 
are encouraged to compete for recognition rather than build solidarity. 
The honours system fits neatly within this broader culture. It 
transforms social contribution into another form of distinction. 
Individuals are elevated above their peers. Lists are compiled. Status 
is distributed. Anarchists should be suspicious whenever institutions 
encourage people to chase prestige. The world already contains too much 
hierarchy. We do not need additional systems for sorting human beings 
into categories of importance.

The nurse who cares for patients through exhausting shifts does not 
become more valuable because a governor-general places a medal around 
their neck. The volunteer who supports struggling families does not 
suddenly acquire greater worth because their name appears on an honours 
list. The worker organising colleagues against exploitation deserves 
recognition regardless of whether the state approves. Their contribution 
exists independently of official acknowledgement. Indeed, some of the 
most important struggles in history were carried forward by people whom 
authorities despised. Trade union organisers were imprisoned. Anti-war 
activists were vilified. Indigenous resistance leaders were 
criminalised. Women demanding political rights were ridiculed and 
arrested. Had these people waited for approval from above, many 
victories would never have occurred.

This should remind us that official recognition is a poor measure of 
social value. Power often celebrates those who accommodate it and 
attacks those who challenge it. The judgement of institutions deserves 
neither automatic trust nor automatic reverence. For anarchists in 
Aotearoa, opposition to honours should therefore form part of a broader 
commitment to building alternative cultures of recognition. We should 
celebrate people because they strengthen collective life. We should 
honour courage, solidarity and resistance through our own practices. 
Communities are fully capable of expressing gratitude without monarchs, 
governors-general or state committees.

Imagine neighbourhood assemblies recognising local organisers. Imagine 
workers celebrating fellow workers. Imagine communities publicly 
acknowledging care, generosity and sacrifice without attaching ranks or 
titles. Such forms of recognition would reflect horizontal relationships 
rather than vertical ones. They would also carry greater authenticity. 
Praise from those directly affected by your actions means far more than 
approval from distant institutions.

Some defenders of honours argue that the system simply rewards 
excellence. Yet excellence exists everywhere. Every workplace contains 
people whose labour sustains collective life. Every community contains 
people who give more than they receive. Most will never receive medals. 
Their contribution remains invisible because recognition systems 
inevitably favour some forms of work over others. The result is a 
distorted picture of social value.

A society obsessed with honours often overlooks the countless acts of 
cooperation that make everyday life possible. Parents caring for 
children, neighbours helping neighbours, workers supporting one another 
through hardship, these activities rarely attract official recognition 
despite their enormous importance.

Anarchism begins from the opposite perspective. It starts with ordinary 
people. It recognises that society is built from below. Wealth is 
produced from below. Communities are sustained from below. Real social 
power resides there as well. Once we understand this, the spectacle of 
royal honours begins to look strangely hollow. A king honours people for 
contributions that were made possible by countless others. The ceremony 
celebrates individual achievement while obscuring collective effort. It 
wraps social cooperation in the symbols of hierarchy. We can do better 
than that.

The struggle against monarchy will not be won through arguments about 
medals alone. The abolition of honours will not transform society 
overnight. Yet symbols matter because they express values. They shape 
expectations. They communicate assumptions about how society should 
function. Accepting honours from the king reinforces the idea that 
recognition flows downward from authority. Declining them affirms a 
different principle. It asserts that dignity does not require royal 
approval. It reminds us that human worth cannot be bestowed by 
hereditary institutions.

For those committed to freedom and equality, that is a principle worth 
defending. The highest honour any person can receive is the respect of 
their peers and the knowledge that they have contributed to collective 
liberation. No king can grant that. No king can take it away.

https://awsm.nz/no-honours-from-the-king/
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