Every so often, a national headline lands in a way that makes you look again at the quiet things happening on your own doorstep. While driving into work recently, I had the radio on, and a talk show was debating that ever-elusive question: what does “Britishness” actually mean?

This week, The Guardian reported that 36 percent of people now think you must be born in Britain to be “truly British”, up from 19 percent in 2023. That shift matters, because it subtly changes how neighbours see neighbours, and how confidently people feel they belong. And yet, the same reporting also points to something more hopeful: many still lean towards a civic idea of Britishness, rooted in values and contribution, not ancestry.

If you want to see that version of Britishness in real life, you don’t need a think tank or a panel discussion. You can find it in a food bank storeroom, on a litter-strewn pavement, or in the quiet corridor of a care home.

Over the past year, the Ahmadiyya Muslim Youth Association (AMYA) locally have tried to live that “shared values” story through simple, consistent acts of service.

When the North Guildford Food Bank put out a public appeal, AMYA responded with more than a tonne of donated food and clothing to help restock supplies — support that was highlighted by BBC Surrey. In a cost-of-living squeeze, that kind of practical help isn’t symbolic; it’s survival, packed into crates and carried by volunteers who simply saw a need and turned up.

The same instinct shows up in the less visible work too: street clean-ups that have filled tens of bin bags with litter across Bordon, Bournemouth and Tilford, and a year of environmental volunteering that has included nearly 1,000 trees planted across Surrey and East Hampshire.

It shows up, as well, in moments of appreciation that rarely make the papers. On Christmas Day, AMYA volunteers visited Surrey police officers and firefighters to thank them for being on duty while others were at home and brought a home-cooked meal as a small gesture of gratitude.

And it shows up in the places where loneliness can be at its sharpest: care homes and children’s wards.

On Christmas Eve, members of AMYA visited care homes in Godalming and Hindhead, handing out chocolates and spending time with residents. On Christmas Day, gift bags were delivered to children’s wards at Royal Surrey and Frimley.

In fact, while many will welcome in the New Year with late-night celebrations, AMYA volunteers will be doing something quieter, and, in its own way, more meaningful. In the early morning of today (January 1), AMYA will be out cleaning local town centres and streets, choosing community service over merriment. It’s not done for attention, but because they see it as a practical way to start the year: by giving something back to the place they call home.

If Britishness is ever reduced to paperwork or birthplace alone, these are the kinds of actions that quietly argue back: belonging is also something you practise.

There is another aspect to this story that deserves attention too: AMYA’s service hasn’t been limited to “local-only” causes. Over the past three years, local efforts have raised nearly £25,000 for Gaza, including more than £10,000 this year. It is possible to care deeply about global suffering while still being rooted in the responsibilities of your own community; in fact, the two often strengthen each other.

One event captured the spirit of this approach perfectly: a Family Fun Day at Tilford Green, bringing together neighbours for a 5K run and 10K walk, family games, and community spirit, raising more than £10,000 towards a new children’s playground at St Polycarp’s Catholic Primary School. It’s hard to imagine a more practical, more local legacy than a place where children can play safely for years to come.

For Ahmadi Muslims, the motivation is straightforward. There is a well-known saying of the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him): “Loving one’s nation is part of faith.”

And he also taught: “The best among you is the one who is most beneficial to others.”

That is not a slogan. It is a yardstick.

So, when we debate Britishness, when we argue over who “counts” and who doesn’t, perhaps we should spend a little less time policing identity, and a little more time noticing contribution.

Because communities are not held together by opinion polls. They are held together by the people who show up: with food when shelves are empty, with time when someone is lonely, with gratitude when others are working through the holidays, and with the quiet conviction that serving your neighbour is not an optional extra; it is part of what it means to belong.

For me this is the true meaning of being British.

Imam Abdul Quddus Arif is President of the Tilford-based Ahmadiyya Muslim Youth Association UK.