Flag Shaggers
Behold, St. George, proud defender of mini round-a-bouts!
How many of the folks hanging up St. George’s Crosses and re-painting road markings red and white do you reckon are baking their own Cornish pasties? Are swathes of them joining Morris Dancing troupes or supporting British arts and culture organisations? I only ask because this current spate of flag waving nationalism is apparently about defending good ol’ English values and culture so surely they’re trying their damnedest to keep those things alive, right!?
If you’ve had your head buried in the sand or aren’t chronically online, you may have missed why a handful of people are now going out of their way to deck out whole towns with symbols of the country. On the surface, one could argue that it’s just a way of showing national pride but you don’t have to dig very deep to realise there’s a more sinister origin to it, with it apparently being a way to make a point about the current small boat ‘crisis’ that’s hitting the headlines at the moment, with protests outside hotels where asylum seekers are being interned housed and a far-right rhetoric about too many people from outside the British Isles making their home here seeping into mainstream political discussions like a toxic ooze.
As the Labour Party tries to out flank the fas… Faragists with talk about how many people they’re deporting and the left lacking any sort of serious voice right now, the Union and English flag are being used as red rags to sew division and raise the temperature of discourse to one of screaming matches, and force sides upon the ill informed.
I cannot stress enough, what follows is just personal opinion and not representative of anyone or thing I’m associated with. However, I despair at the seedy nature of this apparent bloom of patriotism.
In my experience, there are two distinct groups who proudly adopt national symbols. Those trying to cling to a sense of belonging and community in a setting where they feel marginalised and ignored, diaspora and migrants, and those who are doing the marginalising.
In essence, there’s nothing wrong with a national flag. It’s a way of showing belonging to a group, and a flag shouldn’t be something to worry about or disconcert yourself with. I’m from blandly Anglo-Saxon stock, family of both sides coming from lines of East end dock workers and pawnbrokers running through my bloodlines for generations. I sport a hue that speaks of Northern European heritage, lack of sunlight and a desire for root vegetables in every possible form but I’ve always shied away from flags as a symbol.
If you drive down the A10 from Hertfordshire towards North London they’re everywhere until you hit more diverse areas (basically the minute you hit Walthamstow or Tottenham they disappear). It’s now arrived in Hertford town, a place I’ve lived since I was 10 years old, because people don’t understand that austerity has gutted their communities not poor buggers who’ve had their houses blown to bits by British made bombs (there’s blood on your hands Starmer, Lammy et al) and are now making their way to these shores because they speak the language and/or have been bombarded by Colonial messaging of the power and glory of the British Empire.
This seems particularly bizarre to me because Hertford is hardly a shining beacon of diversity. It’s a wealthy area in the Home Counties that is now also feeling the pinch, so some people think that all the problems with our country can be solved by sticking up a load of 74p England flags from Temu.
I’d like to say, I don’t remember such a prevalent “us and them” narrative from my youth, when we had ‘Cool Britannia’ and London 2012 where we celebrated the multi-cultural makeup of what made us good and decent people but even these were tinged with a sense of “we’re better than you.” I remember the ‘98 FIFA World Cup where I started sporting a France jersey because of their proportion of Arsenal players and the magic of Zinedine Zidane. Even this caused great uproar amongst some of my elders that I couldn’t understand then and yet now makes a saddening amount of sense to me. (Not that France aren’t without their problems with anti immigrant sentiment.)
So, what does it mean to be a patriot? I must admit, I never feel more English than when in a foreign country and I mean that in my awareness of my own cultural practices, not that I seek out greasy spoons and demand egg and chips when there’s plenty of local cuisine to indulge in. I’m a strong believer in loving people, not where they come from, and I associate patriotism with a categorising of yourself as better than others although I do concede some self-proclaimed patriots most probably do believe in a love for their nation doesn’t mean that they hate others.
I love watching the England football teams win surrounded by mates because of the community feel, I was overjoyed at recent Lioness successes and revelled in the glory of it but I’ve never owned (and likely never will own) an England football shirt because of its association with loutishness and disdain for others.
That’s a bit sad, isn’t it? I should be able to see an England flag and not feel perturbed, I hold some sympathy with the idea that regular people should be able to reclaim these symbols but England, and Britain as a whole, does not have a history to be proud of. Colonialism and slavery are not things to shout about, the NHS is a marvel which I hold dear and the three pronged plug is a marvel of electrical engineering but even these are rooted in a dark veil of British exceptionalism.
We are at a crossroads for what could be a very dark time in our imminent future and I fear the wrong side of history is bearing down on us like a rabid bulldog. So, you’ll excuse me if I don’t champion your flag and proclaim you a defender of the faith for doing so.
Migration is not a crime, the patch of dirt that you were plopped out on does not define you as a person and I welcome all kind hearted souls with open arms. You belong and you are loved, and don’t let some dyed fabric suggest to you otherwise!