Symbolic Violence: A Very British Kind of Patriotism

I want my country back

Chances are, these words have echoed through much of recent history. Certainly, through much of the last three centuries. These words have fuelled revolutions, fed soldiers and fired shots. Hearing them spoken may call many moments and figures to mind. 1776. 1848. 1944. On this occasion, however, I am quoting a certain Lee Anderson MP and the speech that he made on his defection to Reform UK from the Tories in March 2024. 

Anderson’s defection came after he was suspended from the parliamentary Conservative party because of his refusal to apologise for stating that ‘Islamists’ had ‘got control’ of London, Sadiq Khan and Keir Starmer. These comments were roundly and rightly condemned as Islamophobic.

Anderson’s comments provoke a concerning question: is there such a thing as a healthy politics of patriotism? 

For this controversial MP, patriotism has a clear meaning. In his speech, Anderson stressed his desire to resist ‘the culture war […] sweeping our nation’ which, he argued, was seeking to rewrite the British national narrative. He reminded those in attendance of ‘the gifts’ that Britain had given the rest of the world, including ‘the Industrial Revolution, railways, culture, sports, medicines […] which have saved hundreds of millions of lives’ and the fact that ‘we’ve defeated fascism in two World Wars’. To say the very least, this is an incredibly air-brushed version of British history. 

But do we have to surrender patriotism to the far-right? Or can we find an alternative? Perhaps a very British kind of patriotism? I am sure that I would disagree with Mr Anderson on almost every subject, but I do agree to the very letter of those five words. I do want my country back. Just not how he imagines it.

Patriotism has long been a stick to beat the Left with. Whereas three centuries ago liberals and progressives were the ones clamouring for the establishment of nation-states, those on the Left today are often caricatured as being devoid of national pride. One of the many executive orders that Trump issued when he took office in January aimed to end the proliferation of left-wing ‘radical, anti-American ideologies’ in public education. Reform UK’s so-called ‘contract with the people’ has a similar plan to introduce ‘a patriotic curriculum’.

The nation-state is not a stable concept in progressive political thought. Marxist theory reminds us that nationhood is not fundamental to human life. As Debray wrote in 1977, the nation is ‘a historically determined mode of existence … a historically transient category’. The way in which human beings organize their societies has changed with each era of history. Nomadic hunter-gatherers. Settled tribes. Feudalism. The modern nation is just another step on this path – a path, which Marx hoped would end with the emergence of a nationless, communist utopia.

Such a critical perspective makes patriotism hard for the Left. If you understand your country as a social and historical construct, what is the point of praising it? What does nationalism mean, if the nation is not seen as the product of a collective, cultural identity but rather an incidental byproduct of time and space?

Operation Raise the Colours has been the latest fault line in the Right’s tectonic movement to claim patriotism for themselves. The campaign’s founder, Andrew Currien, has strong links to the British far-right. In the past, he has worked as part of the leadership bodyguard in the English Defence League and now organizes security for Britain First. In 2009, he was jailed for 18 months for his involvement in a racially-motivated attack that took the life of a 59 year old man. However, Currien’s campaign has transcended the limits of political extremism. It has struck a cord with a large cross-section of the nation. 

Last month, flags were hung from lampposts, put up in front windows and even painted onto mini-roundabouts. The popularity of Raise the Colours has forced political figures to nail their own colours to the mast. Both Badenoch and Farage have used this moment to fall back into the Right’s well-worn modi operandi. 

The Union Jack and Saint George’s Cross are symbols of unity. National flags are proudly displayed in countries abroad – why not in Britain? Councils should never censor individuals in expressing their own patriotic views. 

This is precisely the Right’s attack line: seize on the Left’s preoccupations with nationhood. The Left is busy thinking about what a nation is conceptually. Or reflecting on how aspects of British history (most obviously, colonialism) have rendered the use of national flags fraught with problematic connotations. While such considerations are understandable and grounded in well-argued and nuanced principles, they allow the Right to take control of the debate on Britishness and national identity. 

What happened to being proud of your country? Rule Britannia! These days, if you say you’re English … 

A few weekends ago, these noises were enough to motivate over 150,000 people to march through the streets of the capital as part of a ‘Unite the Kingdom’ march organized by far-right activist Tommy Robinson. Raise the Colours has pushed the discourse on national identity drastically away from the political centreground. Whereas Badenoch and Farage felt much more comfortable about falling in line with the campaign’s messaging, Starmer has been left awkwardly on the fence. In an effort to not lose the heart of Middle England, the PM declared himself a ‘patriot’ and heavily in favour of flying the country’s flag. He had to qualify this position after the Unite the Kingdom march.

Against this tide of right-wing patriotism, the Left usually tries to deconstruct national flags in order to present them as unstable symbols. You’ve probably heard some of these ‘actually’ arguments. Saint George was actually Turkish. Saint Andrew was actually Palestinian. The Royal Family are actually German. The English flag is actually Italian, as it was adopted from the Republic of Genoa. These points are true, of course. This is all part of what Debray argues. Nations are not fixed, but historically ephemeral. National symbols and narratives are also not clearly defined, but rather clumsibly assembled from a mass of other influences. 

But these arguments don’t leave much room for national pride. However, the fact that Britain’s national myth is a hodgepodge of external influences speaks to the country’s greatest strength. For all its faults, Britain does not bestow itself with the grand notion of permanence. It has no codified constitution or established date of foundation. Britain is a land of silent customs, ancient precedents and legal fictions. Just as English is not officially the country’s national language, the Union Jack has also never been established as official in law. It was first recorded as the national flag in a parliamentary debate in 1908. 

National culture and identity is in constant movement. It evolves and develops over centuries before crystallizing into clear images such as the Union Jack and Saint George’s Cross. However, these images can change. For centuries, the Union Jack was not a symbol of this country, nor English its language, nor Saint George one of its patron saints. Over the coming centuries, perhaps all these symbols will change. And yet, Britishness will persist, as precedence allows it to be infinitely flexible. Such are the capabilities of a country that has existed for at least a millennium. So, yes, Mr Anderson, I do want my country back. We should go back to how we used to be. We need to get rid of these ‘modern, woke’ flags. True British patriotism isn’t about reclaiming national symbols from the Right, as some British progressives have sought to do recently. It’s about abandoning them. We don’t need them. We’re better, older and more complex than these symbols. We’re British.