A Golders Green attack, a Scout badge, and a reminder of why we do what we do.

Scout Leaders’ Vlog · May 2026 · 4 min read

When was the last time you sat next to someone who sees the world completely differently to you and it changed the way you thought about them?

This week, that question hit differently. In Golders Green, a man attacked members of the Jewish community because of their faith. On the very same day, he attacked a Muslim man again, because of his faith. Three people hurt. Two communities shaken. One city left asking: how does this still happen?

“There are none of ‘us’ and none of ‘them’ in Scouting. That’s not a slogan it’s the entire point.”

And yet, somewhere in the darkness of that news, I found myself thinking about Scouting. Not as an escape from the ugliness of the world, but as an answer to it. Because what happened in Golders Green is exactly why we show up every week, in every Scout hut, in every district, with young people from every background imaginable.

Religion isn’t for everyone and that’s okay. Some people hold their faith as the most important thing in their lives. Others don’t follow any religion at all. What Scouting asks isn’t that we agree with each other’s beliefs, or even celebrate them. It just asks that we respect them. That gap between agreement and respect is where all the important work happens.

Look around your group. Count the cultures, the countries, the worldviews in one room. Then zoom out to your district, your county. It’s extraordinary, when you stop to notice it. We wear the same uniform. We earn the same badges. The only thing that tells our groups apart is the colour of a necker and that’s exactly as it should be. One organisation, infinite backgrounds.

“Faith grows inside you. And that’s okay. It’s also okay if it never does.”

In the wake of Golders Green, I’ve been thinking about a badge we often quietly set aside: the My Faith badge. Not because it’s unimportant quite the opposite. Perhaps because faith feels personal, even awkward to share in a group setting. I’ll be honest: I’ve felt that too. But this term, I think we owe it to our young people to revisit it.

The My Faith badge doesn’t tell Scouts which religion to follow, or that they must follow any at all. It’s an invitation to learn to visit a mosque, a synagogue, a temple, a church, and to ask the questions that curiosity demands. Why does your religion look different to mine? What does faith mean to you? These aren’t dangerous questions. They’re the questions that build bridges.

We can’t fix the wider world from a Scout hut. But we can do something just as powerful: we can shape the people who will. Every young person who grows up learning to sit comfortably alongside difference to ask questions rather than make assumptions, to respect rather than fear is one more person carrying something vital out into the world.

Golders Green should never have happened. And we can’t guarantee it won’t happen again. But we can make sure that the young people in our care grow up believing, from experience rather than instruction, that different faith is not a threat. It’s just a neighbour.

Consider running the My Faith badge this term, visit a local place of worship, invite a speaker, or simply create space for young people to share what faith (or the absence of it) means to them.