SOME of us will no doubt remember Robert Burns’ A Man’s A Man for A’ That being hauntingly sung by Sheena Wellington at the opening of the Scottish Parliament in 1999.

The song could provide a ­political education in itself, but this week I wish to focus on just one fragment:

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that;
But an honest man’s abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa’ that!

While the monarch is the “fountain of ­honour”, only a few special honours are in the personal gift of the Queen. As with other Crown Prerogatives, powers nominally belonging to the Head of State are in practice normally exercised by the Prime Minister.

In other words, Boris Johnson has primary ­responsibility for discerning what is honourable – which is a rather strange arrangement, when one thinks about it.

The Roman Emperor Caligula is reputed to have attempted to make his horse a consul, so at least we have not quite reached that level of ­corruption yet. Even so, questions must be asked. Is it right and proper that public honours should be distributed essentially on the whim and caprice of one man? What effect does that have on the quality of the political system? Does an honours system so dysfunctional become, in fact, a channel of dishonour – just another means of manipulation? Would we be better off abolishing the whole thing?

The temptation to abolish is strong but should be resisted. Properly constituted, a reformed honours system could play an important role in improving the quality of civic and public life.

Most simply, an honours system is a means of rewarding public service and ­acknowledging notable achievements. It is a way of saying a ­collective “thank you” and “well done” to those who deserve it. It is also, in consequence, a way of encouraging those praiseworthy actions. It says to people, “Do this, and you will earn ­honour and esteem”.

This matters because we cannot sustain a healthy liberal democracy on rational self-interest alone. A democratic state is not just ­mechanism that operates blindly, oblivious to the moral character of its citizens. It takes ­people who believe in it and will sacrifice for it, people whose rational self-interest is subsumed in a deeper call to civic duty and public service.

The honours system helps in some small way to set this tone of duty and service: it says, “Some deeds are more excellent, more worthy of emulation, than others”. It provides moral support for those actions – from distinguished service in high office or military endeavours to outstanding sporting or cultural achievements – that give people a sense of pride, hope and ­belonging, or that simply serve humanity. It is the grown-up equivalent of the sticker you get for being good when you go to the dentist.

One advantage of an honours system is that it provides a parallel hierarchy of merit to that of wealth, which would otherwise be the sole measure of rank and status. In principle, an honour cannot be bought. It can only be earned. The person who earns a knighthood, even if they are of modest means, receives with it a social cachet and standing above that of the millionaire.

For those who are already rich, on the other hand, the hope of an honour can encourage them apply their resources in ways that benefit of the community. If glitzy Mr Richboy wants to be respectable Sir Richboy, he’s going to have to be a decent fellow and do some good with that money – put it into libraries in Glasgow, not mansions in Martinique.

Most other countries have honours systems, albeit in greatly simplified and less archaic forms. Australia has the Order of Australia. Canada has the Order of Canada. Barbados, ­despite becoming a Republic, has kept the Order of Barbados. There are, in most cases, various lower awards for bravery or meritorious service.

These examples might provide suitable ­models upon which a reformed, more meritocratic, ­independent Scottish honours system could be built. No more Lords of this or that (let the existing ones keep their titles, but no new creation), nothing that harps back to the British Empire.

The advantages of an honours system are, ­however, entirely lost when the award of ­honours is separated from genuine merit and service. They are worst than lost: they are ­subverted, corrupted, perverted. If honours can be bought with a political donation, or ­dangled over the head of backbenchers in order to ­secure their silence or compliance, the parallel hierarchy of excellence dissolves into an ­oligarchic swamp.

An essential element, therefore, is that the award of honours be insulated from political trafficking of favours – there must be a clear constitutional framework, an independent committee to review and approve awards, and strict rules against the sale of honours, and against the award of honours for merely party-political services.

Prominent Green Party member Molly Scott Cato is this week’s TNT show guest. Join us at 7pm on Wednesday