On President Trump’s aspirations to nobility, or Nobelity

Quite the mind-boggling headline of the week announced – with wording varied in different places, of course – that the government of Norway was bracing itself for some retaliation from the USA if President Donald Trump was not awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Well, no doubt it would be good if all international statesmen were eager to qualify for the peace prize. On the other hand, there is a widespread suspicion that Mr Trump’s ambition owes little to a passion for peace and much to resentment of the fact that Barack Obama got one.

Students of the history of international relations will no doubt have noticed already that standards drooped when the professional diplomats were elbowed aside by national leaders, whether elected or hereditary. But this is surely a new low.

I may be biased. It is true that English culture traditionally sets a high value on modesty and self-deprecation. One may hope for honours, but one does not ask.

There is a character in one of CP Snow’s novels who is a senior civil servant and thinks he is due for a knighthood. So instead of signing with an initial, he starts signing with his full Christian name – John Smith, instead of J. Smith – in the hope that his seniors will see fit to put a “Sir” in front of it.

This is regarded as a serious, if amusing, character defect, and the knighthood does not materialise.

The press pioneer Alfred Harmsworth had better luck. To the suggestion that he should agitate politely for a peerage, he famously replied, “When I want a peerage, I shall buy one like an honest man.” He did later, without paying, become Lord Northcliffe.

When I worked for the Derby Evening Telegraph, we still had a rather poor portrait of him in the hall.

The presentation of honours in Hong Kong has never caused much controversy. The colonial ones were not taken very seriously because they were … well … colonial. Their post-handover replacements have not established themselves as a big deal.

I once did a rough study of the arrival of honours in the Legislative Council. It appeared that if you were a loyal supporter of the regime, there was a fairly predictable timeline along which, as long as you survived re-election, you would travel from Justice of the Peace through bauhinias of various colours.

One member of the Democratic Alliance for the Betterment and Progress of Hong Kong (DAB) party seemed to be stuck on the launch pad, as it were. I suspect he had refused to participate.

I am not aware of any similar study of how life treats those who go “seeking the bubble reputation” through the consultative apparatus.

There were some misgivings a few years ago when some people with qualifications in engineering adopted the pretitle “Ir”, which works like “Dr”. The “I” is because the title originated in French. Lawyers suggested that they should perhaps put in a bid for “Lr” before the librarians grabbed it.

Some people disapprove of this sort of thing. One of the idols of my youth was Charles Carter, who was the first vice chancellor of Lancaster University. Mr Carter was a devout Quaker and spurned titles of any kind.

He always signed and described himself as plain Charles Carter, and I only discovered that he was entitled to both titles “Dr” and “Prof” when I got a look at correspondence from polite outsiders.

He did tell me – a point lost on holders of honorary degrees in Hong Kong – that such honours should only be worn in the premises of the university awarding them. So if you have an Hon Doc, whether or not you earned it or “bought one like an honest man,” it should not be on your business card.

Anyway, all this suggests that there may be an easy way to propitiate the unpredictable Trump. Countries which wish to bow before the president should look into the possibilities of honorary degrees, orders, knighthoods, perhaps, in lucky old England, even a lordship.

Alternatively, at the risk of punishment, they could refer him to the work of poet Thomas Gray:

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r,

         And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,

Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour.

         The paths of glory lead but to the grave.