Given the delightful news of Jony Ive's ennoblement, I guess we should brace ourselves for a chorus of WTFs — most originating, more than likely, from a certain errant former colony over yonder westwards — decrying as anachronistic the British honours system. But to do so is to misunderstand the very important role which Knights — and, of course, Dames — play in matters of National Security. Let me explain.
Traditionally, the role of a knight has been to act as advisor to the monarch and, during times of war, as an ad hoc general. Much like Jedi, only with a better chance of getting a table at the Ivy. There were many other duties performed as well, mostly involving Questing and rescuing princesses from eg. dragons, orges, trolls, less-attractive family members, etc.. The low number of minor royals being abducted by mythical creatures over recent years attests to what an excellent deterrent the Honours System continues to be. But while still important, these knightly duties are receiving less attention these days. For instance, during the Knight Camp training session in the Scottish Highlands which all the newly elevated must attend, only a single day is now given over to jousting (although this is still fairly intensive, covering as it does not only traditional horse-back jousting, but also jousting on motorbike — both standard and with sidecar — and while hung out of the window and / or sunroof of a wide selection of motor vehicles). The role of the modern knight is that of inspirational figurehead.
Once upon a time, a knight's place on the battlefield was right in the thick of things. This wasn't a bad thing for your average knight, since the excess cash which came with his privileged position would allow him to invest in the latest greatest kit. So while everyone else had only particularly crusty sackcloth to protect them from the business end of a bec de corbin, the knight, encased as he would have been within state-of-the-art tincannery, was free to wander about at his leisure, guisarmes and voulges bouncing off him like gentle spring rain. The advent of the professional soldier was responsible for killing off the gentlemanly sport of Amateur War. Blame ol' wart-face Cromwell. What it meant to be a knight had to change with the times.
The wars of the future won't be fought in the traditional manner. But don't go getting all excited. The wars of the future won't be fought in what we used to call CyberSpace, either. No, the wars of the future will be fought on home ground, in shopping centres, car parks and chain restaurants, against zombies or aliens — or, in one particular nightmare scenario, zombie aliens. It is these wars which your modern knight is being equipped to lead. Their role is to shape whatever ragtag group of disparate survivors they stumble upon into a unstoppable fighting machine. Imagine the scene: A church hall, sometime after dark. A handful of villagers shelter inside, while outside they can hear their former neighbours shuffling around and professing their very real desire to consume brains. A door opens. Who can it be? Only bloody Sir Michael of Caine, that's who. "Alright, lads," says he. "I know we're in a bit of a spot, but don't worry, I've got a plan." Game over for Johnny Zombie.
Seriously, Rest Of The World, when the alien motherships are hovering over our capital cities, who will you have to turn to? Politicians? Celebrities? Mouseketeers? Because we'll have Captain Picard and Gandalf.
