Is hanging your country’s flag outside your home a sign of pride or a statement of exclusion? Is it patriotism or nationalism? Does it unite or divide?
The answer to these questions might differ depending on where you’re from. In Denmark, national flags are displayed and waved as a form of celebration no matter the occasion, be it a birthday or a wedding. In the U.K., meanwhile, there’s a battle being waged over flags.
In America, too, a country which has long seen its flag hung in front of schools, corner shops, and churches, it’s increasingly being viewed as an emblem of political identity. Trump supporters are making the Stars and Stripes more and more synonymous with MAGA. Indeed, the president himself has made a point of performing his devotion to the flag, on more than one occasion publicly hugging and kissing the emblem.
Trump has also gone to great lengths to criminalize flag-burning, which, following a 1989 Supreme Court decision, is protected as political expression under the First Amendment. In 2016, he posted on social media: “Nobody should be allowed to burn the American flag—if they do, there must be consequences—perhaps loss of citizenship or year in jail!” More recently, he signed an executive order directing federal prosecutors to pursue criminal charges against those who burn the flag during protests, attempting to circumvent the Supreme Court’s ruling by charging them with related offenses such as disturbing the peace.
England’s own St. George’s Cross, a component of the Union Jack dating back to the Crusades and later adopted by the monarchy, used to be far less commonplace. In past years, if you walked down a street and saw the red-on-white cross waving in the wind, it usually meant there was a royal event or a soccer game happening. But now, in many areas of the country, thousands of St. George’s flags have popped up seemingly overnight, encouraged by an online campaign called Operation Raise the Colours, whose stated mission is to promote national pride and patriotism.
Some of the movement’s supporters echo this stated mission, claiming that it’s simply a matter of national pride—that it’s about loving your country. But the sudden onslaught has made others feel uneasy about the movement’s xenophobic connotations. They believe that those who proudly wave the flag are not just proud of England but of a whiter version of England.
Many of the country’s far-right figures have expressed their support for the movement since its inception, this past August. And, in recent months, the flag hasn’t just lined streets but has been particularly noticeable at anti-immigration protests, such as those taking place outside the hotels where asylum seekers are housed (a contentious practice in the current U.K. political landscape). High concentrations of flags have also appeared in areas where immigration is most fiercely debated and felt.
In August, the former soccer player Gary Neville made headlines when he tore the Union flag off one of his properties, saying it was being “used in a negative fashion” by “angry middle-aged white men.” He subsequently received backlash from people asking how someone who played for England could have so little respect for its symbol. Just last month, a man stormed the field during a soccer game, brandishing an English flag and wearing a sweater that read, Gary Neville is a traitor. The far-right group Britain First later claimed responsibility for the stunt.
The country seems genuinely divided. According to the polling organization More in Common, when asked whether they saw flags as patriotic or anti-immigrant, Britons were split down the middle: 41 percent believed those putting them up were “doing so out of pride in Britain and support for the flag,” while 42 percent believed they were “making a political statement against immigrants.”
A similar conflict is playing out in Scotland, where the saltire flag, which used to be associated politically with support for independence, is now being waved alongside the Union Jack by right-wing supporters at anti-immigration protests.
It seems almost ridiculous for a national flag to be able to be hijacked by a specific group, especially one that may have hateful intentions. Yet, once effectively co-opted, it can be hard to shake that association. Since World War II, Germany has had a complicated relationship with its flag—and the very concept of national pride—so much so that when Angela Merkel was chancellor, she memorably took a German flag away from a colleague waving it beside her and shook her head in disapproval.
There was a point in time when the Union Jack was a symbol of rebellion, used by British bands. Remember Geri “Ginger Spice” Halliwell’s Brit Awards dress?
Unlike the St. George’s Cross, the Union Jack has, for the most part, avoided being swept up in conservative propaganda. But as its presence at far-right protests increases, who knows how long it will stay free from association?
Those who claim flags are apolitical are either naïve or disingenuous. A country’s flag should represent all its citizens, but the intent behind those waving it can redefine what it stands for. Flags are not simply symbols of unity—they can reflect and expose the fractures dividing a nation, too.
Flora Gill is a London-based writer
