Flags as Battlegrounds: The Cultural War Over Symbols, By Richard Miller (Londonistan)
In August 2025, a heated exchange on Good Morning Britain crystallised a growing cultural fault line in Britain and beyond. Professor Kehinde Andrews, a prominent Black studies scholar, declared the St George's flag, a symbol of English identity, rooted in "racism," arguing its historical ties to colonialism and its use by far-Right groups render it inherently divisive. This sparked outrage among viewers and defenders like Dr. Rakib Ehsan, who countered that the flag could symbolise unity and pride, especially when embraced by diverse communities. The debate isn't just about a piece of cloth; it's a microcosm of the cultural wars, where accusations of racism against traditional flags like the St George's, Union Jack, or even the Stars and Stripes serve as code for broader ideological battles, while symbols associated with Left-leaning causes often escape similar critique.
The St George's flag, a red cross on a white background, has long been a symbol of English heritage, tied to the patron saint who slayed a dragon in legend. Yet, Professor Andrews argued on August 19, 2025, that its history is "problematic," linked to the British Empire's colonial past, when it "flew on ships that enslaved my ancestors" and marched into regions like India and Africa. He pointed to its adoption by far-Right groups since the 1960s, particularly in recent protests outside migrant hotels in places like Epping and Canary Wharf, as evidence that it represents "white supremacy" and intimidation.
This view isn't isolated. Similar accusations have been levelled against the Union Jack, seen by some as a relic of imperial oppression, and the Stars and Stripes, criticised for America's history of slavery and global interventions. Yet, as Dr. Ehsan noted, these flags can also embody positive values, religious freedom, anti-discrimination laws, or cultural diversity, when embraced inclusively. The contrast is stark: while traditional national flags face intense scrutiny, symbols like the Palestinian flag, often flown in solidarity with Left-leaning causes, rarely attract equivalent accusations of divisiveness, despite their own complex histories. In Tower Hamlets, where council workers removed St George's and Union Jack flags citing "safety reasons" while Palestinian flags have flown unchallenged, this double standard fuels resentment.
The St George's flag, once an unassailable emblem of English pride, is now a contested sacred cow, its legitimacy questioned in a cultural shift that prioritises narratives of historical redress over national unity. In its place, symbols like the Palestinian flag or the rainbow flag, associated with progressive causes, have gained near-sacred status, immune to the kind of critique levelled at traditional flags.
This asymmetry is evident in the Good Morning Britain debate. Andrews' claim that the St George's flag "represents racism" hinges on its historical and contemporary associations, yet he overlooks how other flags, like those of nations or movements championed by the Left, carry their own baggage. For instance, the Palestinian flag, prominent in areas like Sparkhill, Birmingham, is tied to a conflict with its own history of violence and division, yet it's rarely branded as inherently divisive in mainstream discourse. This selective framing reveals the cultural war's true battleground: not the flags themselves, but what they represent in competing visions of identity.
The accusation of "racism" against national flags often serves as a proxy for broader cultural grievances. In Britain, "Operation Raise the Colours," a grassroots campaign to display St George's and Union Jack flags, emerged as a response to perceived erosion of national identity, particularly in diverse urban areas. Yet, councils like Birmingham and Tower Hamlets, citing safety or community tensions, have removed these flags while allowing others, like the Palestinian flag, to remain. This inconsistency fuels perceptions of bias, as seen in X posts where users argue, "This is England, the English will fly their flag as and when they want to, WHEREVER they want to", or compare Britain to European nations like Greece and Italy, where national flags fly without controversy.
The double standard extends beyond Britain. In the U.S., the Stars and Stripes faces similar accusations of racism, tied to historical injustices or its use by certain political groups. Yet, symbols associated with progressive movements, such as Black Lives Matter or pride flags, are rarely subjected to equivalent historical scrutiny, despite their own polarising potential. This selective outrage suggests that "racism" is less about the symbol itself and more about who wields it and why.
The fading of traditional flags as sacred cows mirrors the broader cycle of ideological replacement. As national pride, once an untouchable ideal, is questioned for its imperial or exclusionary past, new sacred cows, anti-colonial narratives, global justice movements, or identity-based ideologies, rise in their place. These new totems are often granted the same immunity to critique that national flags once enjoyed. Challenging the Palestinian flag's prominence, for instance, risks accusations of insensitivity, just as questioning the St George's flag invites charges of racism.
This cycle isn't progress; it's a swap of one dogma for another. Professor Andrews' assertion that the St George's flag can "never" symbolise unity ignores its potential to evolve, as Dr. Ehsan argues, through inclusive use by diverse communities. Similarly, dismissing national flags while elevating others without scrutiny, stifles honest dialogue. On X, sentiments like "I'm half black and grew up in Scotland and I fail to see the problem with English people being proud of their country," highlight a desire for balance, rejecting the idea that national pride is inherently divisive.
To move beyond this cultural war, we must question all dogmas, old and new, with equal rigor. Just as the St George's flag's historical ties to colonialism don't define its modern meaning, the Palestinian flag's association with resistance doesn't exempt it from critique. Both can be symbols of division or unity, depending on context and intent.
Leaders and communities should foster open debate, not selective censorship. Councils removing St George's flags while permitting others, risk alienating citizens who see this as hypocrisy. Instead, they could engage communities to redefine these symbols inclusively, as Ehsan suggests. Individuals, too, can resist the cultural war's polarising pull by questioning narratives on platforms like X, where diverse voices, from flag defenders to critics, clash daily.
The St George's flag, like the Union Jack or Stars and Stripes, isn't inherently racist, nor is it beyond critique. Its meaning depends on who flies it and why. The cultural war thrives on turning symbols into sacred cows, whether they're traditional flags or progressive emblems. By refusing to slaughter old cows only to crown new ones, we can use reason to bridge divides. In 2025, as Britain grapples with its identity and the world watches similar debates unfold, the challenge is clear: question all symbols, embrace their complexity, and reject the dogma that fuels division.
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