Why aristocratic codes matter in a democratic age

The Nash Rambler Custom Airflyte car with registration number M4442, ridden by Tunku Abdul Rahman during the procession to Banda Hilir to announce the date of independence of the Federation of Malaya.

Photo credit: Iqmal Haqim Rosman.

Here's what I've noticed about myself and the men around me - perhaps you've noticed it too. When we're in positions to choose - selecting a mentor, deciding whom to trust with something precious, or determining which vacation destionation - we become naturally selective. We tend to choose the best. Yet when we ourselves are being chosen - either during the interview, dating, or business deals - we want a fair shot, equal consideration, and democratic opportunity.

This paradox reveals itself in our most private moments of admiration and aspiration.

Why do so many of us find ourselves drawn to Bruce Wayne or James Bond? Why do we love watching The Crown on Netflix? Why does Game of Thrones fascinate us, even as we live in an age that has supposedly moved beyond such medieval kingdom?

I think it's because these narratives speak to something we've been told to ignore but cannot fully suppress - our recognition that some ways of being are more admirable than others, that character can indeed be cultivated, and that standards matter.

Jon Snow vs Daenerys Targaryen

Photo credit: HBO/Helen Sloan

The democratic age has sold us a seductive lie: that all standards are arbitrary, all hierarchies are oppression, and all class systems are prejudice. Yet when faced with actual choices - whom to follow into battle, whom to trust with our secrets, whom to model our sons after - we instinctively seek the aristocratic virtues. We choose the man who demonstrates honor over convenience, elegance over trends, duty over desire.

This isn't about bloodlines or inherited privilege. What I've come to appreciate is that true nobility has always been more about choice than birth. It is the daily act of holding oneself to a higher standard, even when unseen. It is the deliberate choice of role models who embody manly excellence, and the resolve to measure oneself against them.

RELATED: How to carry yourself like a Prince (Camelot)

I've watched men who embody these qualities, and I've begun to understand why they command a different kind of aura. They've cultivated what I can only call an aristocratic approach to their own character - not because they think they're better than others, but because they've committed to becoming better than they were.

The democratic age has given us many gifts: opportunity, mobility, and the chance to prove ourselves regardless of our origins. But perhaps in our enthusiasm for these freedoms, we've accidentally suggested that all standards are arbitrary, that all distinctions are unfair, that pursuing excellence somehow betrays equality.

What I've slowly realized is that democracy provides the framework for opportunity, but it cannot provide direction for how to use that opportunity nobly. It can ensure fair treatment, but it cannot define what fairness looks like in our daily choices. It can protect our right to pursue happiness, but it cannot tell us what kind of happiness is worth pursuing.

Prince Hector, the embodiment of courtly conduct vs Achilles, Greece's greatest warrior (Troy).

Photo credit: Warner Bros Pictures

This is where the old aristocratic codes still have something vital to offer. We want the safety and opportunity that democracy provides, but we hunger for the meaning and excellence that aristocracy represents. We want democratic rights when we are being evaluated, but we apply aristocratic standards when we are doing the evaluating.

RELATED: Nine Worthies: Legendary men of chivalric ideals and their enduring legacies

I find myself wondering if the true aristocracy of our democratic age might be found in those who voluntarily hold themselves to higher standards. In a time when excellence has become optional, perhaps those who pursue it anyway are the real genteel among us.

These are just thoughts I've been wrestling with, observations that have grown clearer as I've paid attention to what I actually admire versus what I think I should admire. I'm curious whether others have noticed this same tension in themselves - this simultaneous embrace of democratic opportunity and aristocratic aspiration.

The question facing every modern gentleman is simple: Will you be content with the democratic minimum, or will you pursue the aristocratic maximum? Your answer will determine not just your own character, but the character of the society we leave to our sons.