Burn All Flags

Mike Rosser
4 min readJul 4, 2016

This article was originally published 2 years ago. In the light of Brexit, it seems more relevant than ever.

As England limped out of Euro 2016, flags of St. George were sheepishly taken down lest their owners be thought of as racists rather than football fans, the red cross on white having acquired far-right connotations. Some lament this taint and wish to reappropriate the national flag. I, however, am pleased by its pariah status and wish that all flags would follow suit.

Flags can be an avatar for a nation’s values and a people’s sense of identity, and to me this symbolic power is a pernicious problem. I don’t really want to burn all flags. It’s just a clickbait title with apt timing. What I would like to see is a disentangling of flag, nationality and self-identity. The flag is not the country. The country is not you.

There will be much flag-waving this weekend in the United States. For many the impulse will not truly be a celebration of freedom but a glorification of the United States. The two are very different. Flags can help to bind a country together under a common banner, but patriotic fervour is a zero-sum game. For a people to feel united, an Other must be defined. America is the best, ergo all others are lesser. It’s dangerous for a powerful nation to consider itself unique; it can give rise to ideologies of divine mandates or manifest destinies. The Other is defined as inferior, and the consequences can be dire.

Governments know the power that the narrative of nationality can have over us. We saw this in 2014’s referendum on Scottish independence. Disappointingly — yet predictably — the debate devolved to flag-waving nationalism that pitted the Scottish against the English, with little thought spared for the nuanced ramifications of independence. Alex Salmond, then leader of the Scottish National Party, was happy to stoke those feelings of acrimony to further his own agenda, one element of which is apparently to emulate Vladimir Putin.

“He’s restored a substantial part of Russian pride and that must be a good thing.”

Apparently Putin’s warmongering and bigotry is completely unconnected to his mythologising of “Russian values”. Pride can’t possibly be a bad thing! Let’s just ignore the brutal repercussions for those who violate those declared norms. Salmond’s admiration might be tempered if he reflected on how Putin has dealt with his own would-be secessionists.

Two years later, another referendum — same old story. The 2016 referendum on whether Britain should remain part of the European Union has been notable for the dismal state of rhetoric on both sides of the question. The side for Remain had the arguments most resembling facts, but they were deployed in such apocalyptic fashion that Remain was ruinously labelled Project Fear. The side for Leave had its own unhealthy dose of fear too — fear of immigrants, primarily — but for the most part it was Project Fantasy, glossing over inconvenient matters like facts or evidence in favour of clarion calls that girded the loins without troubling the head. “Take back control,” they thundered, urging the nation towards atavism while hoping the public wouldn’t wonder too much about who exactly would be in control of repatriated powers. And they didn’t. Fear and facts were no match for nostalgia and wounded national pride. Project Fantasy won, and now the country must pay the price, whatever that may turn out to be.

Pride in one’s nation is an odd concept when viewed dispassionately. I am not proud to be English. It was a happenstance beyond my control. It’s as ridiculous as being proud of my star sign. Pride should be reserved for personal accomplishments. You put up some shelves? Be proud! Your partner got a promotion? Be proud! You became a father? Well, your contribution was minimal, relatively speaking, but sure, be proud!

Conversely, pride is an odd response if your national team wins. You had nothing to do with it. I wonder if Brits who, say, feel pride in Wilberforce’s anti-slavery leadership feel equal shame at Britain’s Kenyan concentration camps? I feel neither — although I recognise one as heroic and the other as abhorrent — because I played no part in either. I don’t believe in the sins of the father, nor the reverse.

Surveys show that Germany has one of the lowest levels of patriotism in the world. Perhaps the Germans share my mindset. They have seen where nationalism can lead, and they have learned from history.

Patriotism under existential threat is understandable, but the modern world is a different place. We are all connected now. Our financial and trade systems are inextricably entwined. We have common problems such as global warming to solve. The confrontational, divisive patriotic urge is counter-productive.

Yet here is George Osborne, the UK’s Chancellor, arguing against global warming action on the grounds of business disadvantage:

“But I don’t want us to be the only people out there in front of the rest of the world.”

Don’t worry, George. There’s no danger of anyone mistaking you for a leader.

We need leaders who can think beyond the nation state, who can engage with the rest of the world as collaborators, not competitors. We must replace patriotism with globalism, or else inevitable collapse will force localism upon us.

We need leaders who will say, to paraphrase Kennedy:

“Ask not what your country can do for you, but what your country can do for the world.”

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