On Capitulation and Conviction

February 28, 2026

This is not a medical update, but something more personal that I wanted to share. Health-wise, I am doing well. I return to NYC next week for a routine checkup. I will share more on that front after the appointment.

Please read this first.

I am struggling with this more than I expected to.

I care deeply about the mission. I care about the Scouts. I care about what the organization has meant and what it has represented over the years. Those values were not abstract to me. Through scouting, I guided Scouts who learned preparedness, service, moral courage, and responsibility. I watched Scouts learn that character is built when no one is watching and tested when it matters most. Those lessons shaped not only them, but also my own understanding of integrity and leadership. They mattered.

Because of that, I am having a hard time reconciling those foundations with what feels like capitulation. I understand that institutions evolve. I understand that leadership faces complex pressures and difficult choices. Adaptation is often necessary. But when change feels less like thoughtful evolution and more like surrender of core principles, it creates a tension I cannot ignore.

A Scout is brave. Courage is woven into their bones and carried in their name. They stand firm when others hesitate, steady when the wind rises and the ground shifts beneath their feet. They do not yield to fear, nor do they bow to doubt. Capitulation is not in their nature. They may bend, but they do not break. They may retreat to regroup, but they do not surrender. Strength is not loud bravado, but quiet resolve. When the moment calls for it, a Scout answers with grit, loyalty, and an unshakable will to endure.

Those words are not just sentiment. They reflect the standard I try to hold for myself and the example I tried to set for the Scouts I served. Scouting teaches that bravery is steady and principled, not loud or reactive. It teaches that standing firm is sometimes the harder path. That is why this weighs on me.

This is not written in anger. It comes from disappointment and reflection. I am trying to be measured. I am trying to leave room for nuance. At the same time, I cannot pretend that I do not feel unsettled. I believe conviction matters. I believe integrity requires standing firm when it counts.

Right now, I am wrestling with whether I can continue to support an organization that, in my view, has yielded in ways that conflict with the very values it once taught. That internal conflict is real for me. I am still working through it.