Heroism and honor go together like swords and shields or guns and targets.  Honor is a common motive for heroism and is found at the heart of heroic characters across a wide spectrum of time and mediums.  It’s also become a somewhat archaic concept in our world, where we tend to speak in terms of ethics and legality rather than honor.

Samurai in armor

Historically speaking, honor has led to acts rightly considered abhorrent.  A samurai who lost his honor was ideally expected to commit the rite of harakiri (literally “belly-cut”), although more commonly he would simply switch allegiances to the victorious warlord.  Honor was on both sides of the forces that contested the Holy Land in the age of Crusades, although perhaps more often in ideals and stories than in reality.  Honor duels were a matter of course in the age of the great European monarchs, to the point where Catholics were explicitly forbidden, on pain of excommunication, from aiding a duel in any way.  Honor was what drove the Zulu impi to compete with one another for the foremost place in battle, even in the face of withering musket fire.

If I just read over the four examples I’ve written about, honor seems deeply bound up with violence.  I think that points to something.  Honor can be heroic, when it drives men and women to fight for justice regardless of the consequences, or destructive and even craven, as when it motivates suicide, petty duels, and the killing of sullied virgins.  But in all cases it deals with final things, particularly the moment of death, and is most obvious in societies where violence is common and death is close.

Rob Roy MacGregor

In Rob Roy, the titular character (played by Liam Neeson) defines honor as that which a man gives himself and which no man can take away from him.  I particularly like the second part of that equation.  I’d go a step further.  My personal definition of honor is simply, “That which a man or woman values more than life itself.”  Honor is whatever a person or society holds to be so precious that death is preferable to compromising it.

Rob Roy bears some surface similarities to Mel Gibson’s Braveheart—both are movies about Scotsmen on the warpath, led by warriors whose families have been deeply wronged by English aristocrats.  But, while Braveheart is a movie about the fight for freedom, Rob Roy strikes me as being fundamentally about honor.  Rob’s conflict explodes because of his refusal to perjure himself, and the film revolves around his obligations to his people, his family, and himself.  There are points he will not compromise, not matter what suffering it will bring, and it makes Rob Roy absolutely riveting viewing.

Which is really the point I wanted to make when I started typing.  In a heroic story, whatever the medium, conflict can take place on several levels.  There’s usually some kind of threat to the hero’s own life.  That’s level one.  Then there are threats to his home, his family, his friends, or simply a group of strangers he’s decided to protect.

There’s something unique and powerful, though, when more than life is at stake, when the hero’s honor itself—his very soul—is put to the test; when death is the least of his or her problems.  This can turn simple adventure stories into epics, and mere heroes into legends.

I found the recent Solomon Kane film very compelling, in part, because of its focus on Solomon’s redemption as being a more important thing than just the preservation of his life.  Vin Diesel’s sci-fi thriller Pitch Black uses this level of conflict to powerful and memorable effect as well.  In the world of books, I think I can say without spoilers that Jim Butcher’s Harry Dresden, Scott Lynch’s Locke Lamora, and the Guardians of Everness in John C. Wright’s masterful fantasies (The Last Guardian of Everness and The Mists of Everness) all grapple with these concepts, and become great heroes (instead of merely entertaining ones) as a result.

Not sure if anyone’s keeping score, but last time I promised to talk about samurai movies.  Consider that promise deferred.  Also, if you still thirst for Sean-speak, check out the Black Gate blog, where I’m blogging on opposite Saturdays.