Catriona Stewart: A nation that’s secure in itself shouldn’t need to wave a flag

Matt Hancock kicked it off by positioning himself in front of Damien Hirst’s spin painting of The Queen before upgrading to a flag. Now the rest of the mob are at it – Robert Jenrick, Grant Shapps. All sitting in front of a Union flag.

For Conservative governments, literal flag-waving is a simple act of unity. While the left fractures over the meaning of nationalism, the right stands underneath rippling Union flag bunting and offers something that might be less tangible than a minimum living wage, but that brings people with them.

The left is embarrassed by flags, preferring borderless internationalism and eschewing attachment to place, except when it suits them. See left-wing Scottish independence support for “good” nationalism and the Saltire.

The right is attached to the Union flag as a shallow symbol of an unquestioningly united Britain and its supposed prowess.  

Yet a leaked Labour document at the beginning of the month suggested that, in order to win back the trust of voters, it should rebrand by making “use of the [Union] flag, veterans [and] dressing smartly”.

How should Labour respond to the question of nationalism at a time of national fracture? We can see two approaches in the Scottish Labour leadership content: to insist on a British identity, as Anas Sarwar; or to prefer a united Britain but leave it to democracy to decide, as Monica Lennon.

It’s such a clunky strategy. Any tip that suggests “making use” of a group of people alongside inanimate objects is too distasteful to be advisable. Of course, far worse is the idea that a divided Labour should lure voters by touting a brand of British identity.

Good luck with that. Far too complex and far too late. A fairly mammoth task to come up with a uniform, uniting definition of what it means to be British.

Deep discomfort about the flag is as British as crumpets. Eddie Izzard captures its grim history neatly. In the comedian’s flag sketch, Izzard impersonates a colonising Englishman arriving in India. This is ours now, the Englishman says. “You can’t claim us,” an Indian passerby replies. “We live here. 500 million of us.”

The Englishman is unperturbed. “Do you have a flag?” They do not have a flag.

“No flag, no country. That’s the rules.”

That’s clearly still the rules the Conservatives are playing by, hence the strategically placed flags.

Flags yet again caused a minor stooshie last week when it emerged that the Union flag will take the place of the EU flag on car number plates. The pot was stirred and Sir Tom Devine asked for his take,

The historian very quickly went from the UK government putting the Union flag on number plates, which seems a fairly natural thing to do, to it trying to, “Dig the grave of the Union”.

Joining in, Tommy Sheppard, the SNP’s constitutional affairs spokesman, described it was an example of the “UK Government descending into right-wing, flag-waving British nationalism”.

A small detail seemingly missed is that people can opt out of having the Union flag on their plate. Let the sexton know we won’t need his services after all.

Paradoxically, an obsession with identity can be divisive even as it attempts to unite people.

Identity is the premier issue of the day. In lieu of a comfortable national identity to unite behind, people are finding solace in smaller, more personal identity groups.

There’s a strong argument to be made that current identity politics is heavily tinged with narcissism, where, rather than focusing on collective good and community cohesion, the pressure is to enforce acceptance of very specific, personal selfhood. This is, in part, why flags are so hot. Were such things allowed, I’d think twice about transporting my cupcakes to the work bake sale in my Emma Bridgewater red, white and blue cake tin because assumptions would be made.

A Saltire is never a Saltire. A Union flag is never a Union flag. They pack multiple layers of adherences and beliefs.

Do they have to, though? There’s nothing inherently wrong with civic identity. Being from Coatbridge, I have the great misfortune to work with a group of Airdrieonians, which has generated a gentle rivalry manifesting itself in glee when something goes wrong in the opposing town. Unless events gang awry in Motherwell, at which point we unite behind a common enemy. 

It’s extra impish on my part, given that I’m from Coatbridge but went to school in Airdrie. Everything I know about photosynthesis, touch typing and the treble clef I owe to the wrong end of the Monklands.  But the entire accident of birth is glossed over when someone suggests Airdrie might be a preferable location. It’s laughable. For God’s sake, we have the Time Capsule.

At my Australian primary school we stood at attention in military rows under an untempered sun and sang Advance Australia Fair as the head boy and head girl ran the flag up the pole. My memory of this is that it happened every morning before school. Can that be right? If any fellow public school kids are reading and can provide clarity, please write in.

The Americans and Canadians, too, have less of a complicated relationship with their flags. Patriotism is unencumbered by hard geographical divisions – you might support the Sydney Roosters over the St George Illawarra Dragons but, when you get down to it, you’re just an Aussie.

There is no single coherent national British identity and that’s possibly the only uniting factor of the isles.

We’re on the cusp of another debate about who we are and what we stand for – people and politics. The conversation can’t be about petty flag-based symbolism; a nation secure in itself doesn’t care if strawberries have a Saltire on the carton. 

A political party secure in itself doesn’t need a flag in place of meaningful policies. Someone really needs to wave that fact in their faces.