Lessons from Australia

Yesterday, when my cousin, Professor Rory Medcalf, delivered the 2025 Sir James Plimsoll Lecture in Hobart, Tasmania, he discussed a compelling idea that has immediately resonated with me: progressive patriotism. Rory—who heads the Australian National University’s National Security College—spoke not just with academic insight, but with a real sense of civic purpose. His reflections, though offered from the far side of the world, feel deeply relevant to my role here in Oxfordshire.

Progressive patriotism, as Rory describes it, is not a flag-waving exercise or a nostalgic retreat. It is a clear-eyed commitment to country rooted in service, trust, inclusion, and resilience. It acknowledges that loving one’s nation means working to improve it—especially in times of challenge and uncertainty. It honours tradition, but refuses to be confined by it. Instead, it asks how our inherited values and institutions can be put to work in service of today’s society.

That idea sits powerfully with the role of High Sheriff.

The Shrievalty is one of the oldest offices in the land. It comes with a sword, formal velvet robes, and a bicorn hat—symbols of duty, continuity, and the rule of law. But for all its ceremony, the office is not a relic. It is a platform. It allows me to convene, to advocate, to listen—and to act. It allows me to stand in solidarity with those who too often feel unheard.

That is why my theme for this shrieval year is Hearing the Young Unheard. In my conversations across Oxfordshire—with youth workers, schools, charities, and, most importantly, with young people themselves—I’ve been struck by how Rory’s lecture intersects with our local experience.

Generation Z, those now aged roughly 13 to 27, are facing a uniquely complex world.
They are coming of age amid economic volatility, institutional distrust, and digital saturation. They often delay the traditional milestones of adulthood—not by choice, but by necessity. Many navigate truth through a jumble of social media, peer voices, and fragmented news. Their engagement with democracy is thoughtful, but often sceptical. Many are deeply politically aware, yet feel powerless. Some are leaning into activism; others are stepping back entirely.

Research paints a vivid picture:

• Only 26% believe the UK is “highly democratic.”

• 60% feel they lack control over their lives.

• Trust in social media influencers now outranks trust in many public broadcasters.

• And young men, in particular, are falling behind in education and opportunity.

These realities should concern us—not out of panic, but out of purpose. They invite those of us in public roles, especially those grounded in justice and civic life, to respond with humility and intent.

Rory’s insight was that national security—in the broadest sense—depends not just on deterrence, but on resilience. Resilience, in turn, depends on trust. And trust must be earned through visibility, transparency, and care.

In this spirit, I believe the Shrievalty has something to offer. Its history is long, but it must never be static. To walk into a youth setting in full regalia is not to intimidate, but to symbolise attention—to say: “This office sees you. It is here to listen.”

Progressive patriotism enables this approach. It gives us a framework to bring the dignity of tradition into conversation with the urgency of now. It says we can honour our past and demand more of our future. That we can wear the sword while questioning how justice is truly delivered. That we can celebrate heritage while ensuring no young person feels excluded from it.

So yes, I’m proud to wear the 18th century velvet court dress. I’m proud to take part in ancient ceremonies. But I’m proudest when those moments create space for new conversations—especially with young people who deserve to be part of our national story.

If Rory’s call in Hobart was for Australians to renew their national purpose, perhaps this is my echo here in Oxfordshire. A call for tradition to be not only preserved—but lived, shared, and stretched into new relevance.

That is, I believe, the task of the modern High Sheriff. And the very definition of progressive patriotism.