St George’s Flag: A Symbol of National Pride or Prejudice?

Across the UK, more flags of the St George’s Cross and the Union Jack are being put up.

This rapid increase of national flags, often organised under the banner of online campaigns like “Operation Raise the Colours”, has ignited a fierce and deeply personal debate about identity, patriotism, and belonging in modern Britain.

For some, it is a welcome and long-overdue resurgence of national pride, a simple and harmless expression of love for one’s country.

For others, particularly within Britain’s diverse migrant and South Asian communities, these flags carry a heavier, more troubling meaning, especially in the wake of immigration discussions.

They raise unsettling questions: in a nation grappling with tense discourse around immigration, what does it truly mean to ‘raise the colours’ in 2025, and is this an act of unity or a gesture of division?

A Resurgence of National Pride?

For many who choose to display the flag, the motivation is straightforward: patriotism.

They see the St George’s Cross as a symbol of English heritage and the Union Jack as a representation of British unity, values they feel are being eroded or unfairly criticised in the modern era.

In Birmingham, where hundreds of flags have been erected, local resident Ian Anderson explained that people felt driven to “taking a stance”.

He pointed out: “There is a real sense that people who are proud to be British are being made to feel ashamed of their patriotism.

“I don’t see anything wrong with flags on lampposts; it reminds me of when the World Cup or Olympics are on.”

This perspective taps into a deeper feeling that national identity is something to be celebrated, not hidden.

The flag, in this context, is a unifying emblem.

Dr Amir Khan, a familiar face on morning TV, echoed this sentiment during a recent televised debate on ITV’s Lorraine:

“I love a flag. You know, during the 2012 London Olympics, my house was covered in Union Jack flags… For me, those flags represent togetherness, unity, joy and celebration.”

His words resonate with the millions who associate the flag with moments of collective national joy: a royal wedding, a major sporting victory, or a community street party.

For them, the act of flying the flag is an attempt to reclaim this positive, inclusive spirit in everyday life, pushing back against a perceived narrative that such displays are inherently negative.

This desire to express patriotism openly and without apology is a powerful undercurrent in the “Raise the Colours” movement.

Participants often argue that the flag belongs to everyone and that its meaning should not be dictated by extremist groups who have sought to misappropriate it.

They contend that to concede the flag to such factions is to allow a minority to define a national symbol, and that the only way to neutralise its weaponisation is to normalise its presence as a benign marker of identity and pride.

A Symbol of Exclusion?

However, this view is far from universally held.

For some people in the UK, the sudden appearance of these flags is not a source of comfort but of deep anxiety.

The context of their display, away from the inclusive backdrop of an international sporting event, is seen as crucial.

Critics argue that “Operation Raise the Colours” is a coordinated campaign with disturbing links to far-right ideologies.

Broadcaster Nicola Thorp highlighted these concerns directly:

“Many other groups, including far-right groups, have taken to this campaign.”

She explained that it has “strong links to the far-right, strong links to Tommy Robinson and Britain First. In fact, Britain First have donated 75% of their flag stock to this campaign”.

This association is not merely theoretical; it is rooted in lived experience, as Thorp stated:

“I have seen that flag being used at race riots, at protests where people have been racially abused, racially assaulted – the EDL, English Defence League, are often wearing them.”

Her words echo the fears of many from minority ethnic backgrounds, for whom the St George’s Cross has been a symbol brandished not in celebration, but in intimidation.

Stand Up Against Racism Birmingham has condemned the appearance of St George’s flags, describing it as a “far-right orchestrated attack” on minorities and branding the flags as “symbols of racist intimidation”.

It has called for the removal of all unauthorised flags and painted crosses.

This sentiment is powerfully expressed by community activists who witness the impact firsthand.

Mukhtar Dar, of Kings Heath United Against Racism, offered a chilling perspective:

“When that flag goes up on a lamppost, it’s not just paint or cloth; it’s a target on our backs.

“This is not thumping up, it’s thumping down: an attempt to push communities down, to intimidate and divide, not to celebrate.”

This view suggests that such displays are a territorial act, designed to mark areas and send a clear, exclusionary message to migrants, Muslims, and other minority groups that they are unwelcome.

Context is Everything

The heart of this debate lies in the nuanced, and often contradictory, meanings a single symbol can hold.

As Dr Amir Khan observed: “Context and intent is everything.”

The very same flag that can inspire feelings of unity and joy when draped over a balcony during the World Cup can evoke fear and suspicion when systematically placed on lampposts in a diverse neighbourhood.

The difference lies in the perceived purpose.

A flag flying for a specific, shared national event is seen as inclusive, inviting everyone to partake in the celebration.

On the other hand, a flag appearing without such a context, as part of an organised campaign, can feel like a political statement.

For many British South Asians and migrants, the Union Jack itself is a complex symbol, inextricably linked to the legacy of the British Empire.

Stand Up To Racism Birmingham said the Union Jack has deep ties to Britain’s imperial past and the flag has been used by far-right groups as a symbol of exclusion.

Therefore, its appearance on the streets can trigger a historical and cultural sensitivity that is often overlooked by those who see it simply as a mark of national pride.

Simran* said: “It is no coincidence that the flags have popped up at a time when immigration is such a hot topic.

“We’ve seen protests against so-called migrant hotels and about small boats and people are angry.”

This highlights the important role of interpretation.

While the person erecting the flag may genuinely intend to express pride, the person viewing it, perhaps a refugee or a second-generation immigrant whose family has experienced racism, interprets it through a different lens.

The intent may be patriotism, but the impact can be intimidation.

This disconnect is the central friction point, where one citizen’s expression of identity is perceived as a threat to another’s.

The debate is not simply about a piece of fabric, but about whose feelings and fears are given precedence in the public square.

The Media and Political Fuel

The flag debate is not happening in a vacuum; it is being shaped and amplified by both media discourse and the political climate.

The heated discussion on ITV’s Lorraine and the subsequent explosion of commentary on social media demonstrated how quickly the issue becomes polarised.

Many viewers felt the on-air conversation was unbalanced, with both guests largely sharing the same concerns about far-right associations.

One social media user lamented: “Could you not find anyone to interview to add balance or does that not fit with your politics?”

This sentiment reveals a frustration among some that their patriotic motivations are being automatically conflated with extremism, shutting down any possibility of nuanced dialogue.

At the same time, political rhetoric from mainstream parties is seen by many activists as legitimising the very narratives that fuel these divisive campaigns.

The likes of BSUAR argue that phrases like “stop the boats”, employed across the political spectrum, “scapegoated migrants and legitimised far-right narratives”.

Jagwant Johal of the Birmingham Race Impact Group made a direct link to political strategy, suggesting:

“By orchestrating flag displays in Birmingham’s disadvantaged wards, the far right, Reform UK and the Conservatives are fuelling anti-migrant sentiment before local elections.

“This risks sectarian-style divisions like Northern Ireland and demands Council action to uphold its anti racist pledge.”

This implies that the flag campaign is a symptom of a broader political strategy that exploits anxieties about immigration and national identity for electoral gain.

When mainstream political language echoes the grievances of the far-right, it can normalise extremist views and create a permissive environment for actions that intimidate minority communities.

In this charged atmosphere, the St George’s Cross becomes more than a symbol of heritage; it becomes a pawn in a much larger, and more dangerous, political game.

Ultimately, the St George’s Cross is a mirror, reflecting back the deep divisions and unresolved questions at the heart of modern Britain.

It is a symbol that simultaneously embodies a proud national history for some and a painful legacy of exclusion and hostility for others.

The current wave of flag-raising across the country has brought this duality into sharp, unavoidable focus. It forces a conversation about who gets to define patriotism and whose sense of belonging is prioritised.

There are no easy answers.

To dismiss everyone flying a flag as a far-right sympathiser is to ignore the genuine sense of disenfranchisement and the desire for positive national expression that motivates many.

Yet, to ignore the fear and intimidation that these same flags can cause within minority communities is to be blind to the real-world impact of coordinated, politically-charged displays.

As the flags continue to flutter on lampposts, the true question is not simply what they mean, but what we, as a multi-cultural society, want them to mean.

Can a symbol so deeply enmeshed in a contested history ever be truly reclaimed for all, or will it forever represent a nation divided?