A wonderful photo went viral earlier this month of a cheerful-looking girl Scout bravely confronting a neo-Nazi at a Czech rally. This confirmed my long-held belief that scouting is a thoroughly good thing. Furthermore, last week, my 10-year-old, having spent some years as a Cub (and before that a Beaver), finally achieved the pinnacle by being invested as a Scout.
Much as I admire it, I do not in any way comprehend the Scouting movement. What, for instance, is the difference between Scouts, Cubs, Beavers, Rainbows, Chipmunks*, Guides, Explorers and the Boys’ Brigade? And what is their function exactly?
Also, what’s with The Jungle Book? My daughter started each Beavers meeting with the chant “Akela! We’ll do our best”. Other Cub officers included Baloo and Bagheera, but in Beavers there is a Tigger, a Pooh bear and a Rabbit. Girls and boys can join the Scouts, but only girls can join the Guides. You can pledge allegiance to any faith you want, including, in theory, militant Salafism or secularism, but loyalty to the Queen is non-negotiable.
This confusion is nothing new. I remember my own experiences as a member of 12th Southall Assyrians. The first question that occurred to me was: why Assyrians? Why not 12th Southall Babylonians?
I didn’t much enjoy it in those days – it was occasionally brutal (anyone who has played a game of British bulldog will know what I mean) and tying knots seemed to form a substantial, and substantially tedious, part of the activities. But the uniforms were cool, especially the ranger hats (now sadly defunct) although they did make me feel as though I wanted to invade and possibly annex a rival troop – perhaps 10th Southall Hittites or 14th Greenford Phrygians.
I treasured the little cloth activity badges, which I am happy to see have endured in pretty much the original form (although nowadays they reflect current concerns such as the disability awareness badge, the global issues activity badge and the BME cultural appropriation badge**).
In those days, along with knot tying, a sense of orientation seemed to be important – there was a great deal of emphasis on maps and compasses and generally finding your way around. We also spent a lot of time learning morse code for reasons I still do not understand. Singing was compulsory, most often, as I recall, an entirely incomprehensible song called Ging Gang Gooly which still appears on the Scouts website as a recommended campfire song, although I don’t ever recall getting anywhere near a campfire, or a camp for that matter.
My greatest disappointment was that we never got to make meaningful contact with the Guides, who, when we glimpsed them, looked highly appealing in their uniforms, at least to a frustrated 14-year-old boy. Sex, however, was pretty much off the activity badge menu.
You may have noticed that this column isn’t really an opinion column at all, but a sort of tribute, an array of puzzlements and a set of memories. This is because I don’t have strong feelings about the Scout movement. I have strong feelings about schools, governments, businesses and families – but not the Scouts, except a powerful feeling of gratitude for all the dedicated adult volunteers who, week in week out, tempt nearly half a million kids away from their Xboxes, phones and tablets. I’m just glad that it’s there – heritage as much as activity, British as red pillar-boxes and nutty as cheese rolling.
*I made this one up.
**And this one.
