Dead Poet's Honour

Is poetry only about the structure and meter of verse? Is it only measurable by the importance of its objective? Or does it have a deeper meaning, or a deeper purpose — which is the true expression of the nuances of the poet’s soul? Throughout the history of the written word, there have been parallels drawn between life and poetry. And many have argued that poetry is, in fact, a watercolour painted in honour of the iridescent hues of life.

And life is more than following the herd. It is more than speaking the minds of others instead of yours – it is more than passing judgement upon your fellow souls if only because others before you have done the same. Life is yours, and so are all the perceptions, beliefs, thoughts, fears, prayers and joys that come with it.

Today, I watched “Dead Poet’s Society” again. I would not go as far as to call it an “intellectual” film, mainly because my mother, who falls asleep while watching all “intellectual” movies does not do so for this one. However, the central theme reflected in this bittersweet tragedy — the struggle to find one’s own voice amidst the raucous roar of conformity, is one that is truly understood in all sincerity by very few indeed.

The honour in keeping one’s word, in fighting for one’s beliefs and ideals until the very end, being true to oneself — these were qualities cherished and admired greatly, until even a few years ago. However, I do find myself asking if that is still the case today. There is such a thing as a “false” code of honour, wherein one can simply claim that one is ethical and sincere and get away with acts of stealthy treachery as long as enough people get swayed by the glamour and grandeur of those claims. The trick is to convince enough people, through words alone, that you are honourable, and they won’t notice it when you are all but that. As long as the crowd is with you, it hardly matters whether you stay true to your proclaimed ideals or not.

It is here that those old notions of honour come in conflict with the new. The truth is that we are compelled by the strength of life within us to survive even a shark tank... or at least try to. So can those who go with the herd to achieve the show of strength necessary for survival truly be condemned as shallow? And should those who adhere to their ideals and ethics of honour and principle regardless of the herd be admired for their depth of character or be dismissed as simply stupid?

What would your answer be?