I was nine when my mum introduced me to a line that has stayed with me ever since: “This above all: to thine own self be true.”
It comes, of course, from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, although at nine I wasn’t terribly interested in who Polonius was, or whether he was necessarily the wisest source of advice. What mattered was what my mum meant by it. Know who you are. Try to do what you believe is right. Don’t simply follow the crowd. And behave in a way that allows you to be comfortable with the person looking back at you in the mirror.
Not long afterwards, Scouting introduced me to another idea which has also stayed with me: making a Promise.
The wording of the Scout Promise has evolved over the years, and today there are different versions reflecting different faiths and beliefs. But the essential ideas are remarkably enduring. Do your best. Recognise that you have obligations beyond yourself. Help other people. Live by a code.
I certainly didn’t spend my childhood pondering the philosophical relationship between Shakespeare and the Scout Promise. I was far too busy enjoying being a Scout. But looking back, I can see that those two early influences fitted together rather neatly. My mum was teaching me something about the person I should try to be; Scouting was teaching me that the person I chose to be had responsibilities towards other people.
One looked inward; the other looked outward. Somewhere between the two sits character.
Perhaps that is why I find myself increasingly drawn to some values which can sound a little old-fashioned these days. Not because everything was better in some imaginary golden age. It wasn’t. And certainly not because I think children should simply be obedient, know their place and do what adults tell them. I want children to question, challenge, explore and occasionally make the grown-ups around them distinctly uncomfortable.
But I do think there are some things worth passing on. Before all the qualifications, achievements, opportunities and carefully curated experiences, there are some basic lessons about how to live alongside other human beings. I would like every child to have encountered these six before they are ten.
Good manners matter. Not because children should be deferential, but because courtesy is one of the simplest ways we acknowledge another person’s humanity. Say please and thank you. Look up when someone speaks to you. Don’t constantly interrupt. Hold the door. Write the thank-you message. And treat the person clearing the table with exactly the same courtesy as the person you are trying to impress. Manners are not about knowing which fork to use; they are about recognising that other people matter.
Your word should mean something. If you say you are going to do something, do your best to do it. If you discover that you can’t, tell people rather than disappearing and hoping they won’t notice. Making a Promise as a child taught me that words can carry obligations. Trust isn’t usually created by one grand gesture; it grows through hundreds of small moments when what we do matches what we said we would do.
Respect people who are different from you. Children will encounter people whose backgrounds, beliefs, abilities, identities and experiences are very different from their own. They don’t have to agree with everybody, and nor should they. But disagreement doesn’t cancel another person’s dignity. Indeed, one of the most revealing tests of character is how we behave towards someone who has no status to offer us, no favour to return and perhaps very little in common with us.
Take responsibility when you get things wrong. Because you will. I certainly have, plenty of times. Character isn’t about never making a mistake; it is about what happens next. Can you say, “I got that wrong”? Can you apologise without immediately explaining why it wasn’t really your fault? Can you put something right when you have hurt someone or caused a problem? The urge to blame somebody else isn’t confined to children. Perhaps that is precisely why learning another way while we are young matters so much.
Do your share. Families, schools, Scout Groups, sports teams, voluntary organisations and communities all depend upon people who are prepared to contribute. Sometimes that means doing something exciting; sometimes it means stacking the chairs, washing the mugs or picking up something that somebody else has dropped. Not everything comes with a prize, a certificate or a round of applause. We belong to things, and belonging brings responsibilities as well as benefits. That understanding has shaped a great deal of my life, particularly my belief in volunteering and the importance of civil society.
Be kind, especially when nobody is watching. Notice the child standing on their own. Help the person who is struggling. Be gentle with animals. Include somebody who is being left out. Speak when someone else is being treated badly. “To help other people” is a very simple idea at the heart of the Scout Promise, but it contains something profound: we have a responsibility to notice one another. Kindness when everyone is watching is good; kindness when there is no audience tells us rather more about who we are.
And, having promised six, I am going to cheat and add a seventh.
Learn how to lose. You won’t always win the race, get the part, make the team, receive the prize, be chosen or get your own way. Sometimes somebody else will simply be better than you. Sometimes life will be unfair. You are allowed to be disappointed, but learning to congratulate somebody else, pick yourself up and have another go is an extraordinarily useful preparation for life. I have met enough adults over the years to know that reaching adulthood does not automatically confer this particular ability.
None of this is really about producing “good children” who obediently follow rules. It is about something much more important: helping young people develop an internal compass.
That brings me back to my mum.
“To thine own self be true” can sound, to modern ears, like an invitation to put ourselves first: this is who I am, take me or leave me. That isn’t what she taught me at all. Being true to yourself only means something if the self you are trying to be true to has values. Otherwise it is merely self-indulgence.
And that, I think, is where the Scout Promise completes the thought. Know yourself, certainly; but recognise that life isn’t only about yourself. Have principles, but live them. Make promises, and try to keep them. Belong to things, and contribute to them. Notice other people, and help where you can.
I haven’t always managed all of that. Nobody does. Values aren’t medals we award ourselves for being good people; they are the standards that occasionally remind us we could have done better. “I did my best” doesn’t have to mean “I got everything right”. Sometimes it means recognising that you didn’t, learning from it and trying again tomorrow.
More than half a century has passed since my mum first gave nine-year-old me that line from Shakespeare. Scouting, too, went on to become a much bigger part of my life than I could possibly have imagined as a boy. Yet beneath all the experiences that followed, those two early lessons still seem remarkably sturdy.
Be true to yourself. Do your best. Keep your word. Help other people. Take responsibility. Do your share. Be kind.
Old-school values? Perhaps.
But not, I think, old-fashioned ones.
