First published in the Irish Independent, August 11th
On a recent car-trip around the Six Counties, I passed through a few of those small unionist towns that are festooned with UK flags. Presumably there are other Northern towns similarly bedecked in the tricolour, I just didn’t happen to be in them.
A decade ago my reaction would have been to castigate all this Union Jack pageantry. I’d have taken great umbrage, firstly, on vaguely defined nationalist principles – how dare these interlopers demonstrate hostility towards the inarguable truth and rightness of Irish unity?
I’d have sneered at them, at how performative it all felt, how showy – take notice of us, we’re British not Irish! – and how, ironically, a brash exhibition of confidence often betrays profound insecurity underneath.
These days, I still think there’s something a bit sad and needy about it: we get it, you’re loyal to the Crown, no need to labour the point. Also, my inner sceptic/non-conformist automatically recoils from any situation where literally everyone is onboard. What if you’re a proud unionist but don’t feel like sticking a flag on your house: is this allowed?
That said, though, I’m not nearly so hostile towards all the Union Jacks nowadays. If nothing else, it shows a people who know who they are, whether anyone else likes that or not. And unlike some in modern Western Europe, they don’t agonise over it, self-doubt, apologise or explain.
I respect that. It’s normal, psychologically, to not feel shame or self-consciousness about expressing who you are. Proven by the fact that Ulster unionists are in the large majority, globally, on this.
We have this stupid misconception that only jingoistic Americans or warmongering Russians are like this, but that’s not true. Across Asia and Africa, the Americas, Middle East, Central and Eastern Europe, most people don’t have any problem displaying their national flag with unabashed pride. Even lovely liberal Sweden is replete with that blue-and-yellow standard.
It’s all quite straightforward; they don’t overthink it. I’m Japanese, I fly the Japanese flag. I’m Polish, I fly the Polish flag. Why wouldn’t I?
It’s only in a few Western European countries that you find this bizarre cultural cringe (and only in some of us, it should be noted). In our case, you’re more likely to see a Palestinian or Ukrainian flag than that of the Republic of Ireland.
That’s not exaggerating for effect; drive around any part of this country and your eyes will provide the evidence. Here’s a recent example from my own experience: climbing Croagh Patrick on Reek Sunday – an Irish Catholic pilgrimage of very longstanding tradition – and seeing a Palestine flag outside a café at the bottom of the mountain, and more than one hiker wearing it as a cape…but not a tricolour in sight.
Does this seem normal? It doesn’t to most non-Irish people I know – they’re utterly baffled by it, and must think the natives are suffering some sort of collective identity crisis – and doesn’t to me.
Why do Irish people cringe at the thought of flying their own flag outside their house, but have no problem with that of a Middle Eastern nation 3,500 miles away? Why do Ulster unionists not cringe in the same way? Why do they know who they are and we don’t anymore – or is this being unfair?
Let me pre-empt some of the arguments against what I’m saying. Flying a Palestinian flag, it could be said, is an understandable human reflex, showing sympathy for the civilians killed and maimed over there. Fair enough.
But the current situation doesn’t explain why it was being flown well before the bombardment of Gaza began. Or why Islamist flags – Hamas, Hezbollah (who killed Irish soldier Sean Rooney in 2022) – are seen in demonstrations on our streets.
Besides, shouldn’t we have also raised the Israeli flag, in solidarity with 1300 people from several countries – including two of our own citizens – who were raped, tortured, killed and kidnapped in October 2023? Would this not be a natural human response too?
Despite what people tell themselves, flying any non-Irish flag is a political choice and statement, not a personal, emotional act. If it was solely about sympathy for victims of war, Ireland would be weighed down under the flags of Yemen and Western Sahara, Sudan and Somalia, Central African Republic and all the other forty-plus countries currently suffering armed conflict.
People will also say that the tricolour has been hijacked by “far-right” extremists. But this isn’t the argument it appears to be.
For one thing, you’re talking a tiny minority, despite hysterical over-exaggeration. And national flags have always been co-opted for nefarious ends, around the world. Does that mean the reasonable mass in the middle should reject them entirely? If anything, it should make people fight to reclaim the tricolour.
The whole point of our flag’s design, after all, was to promote reconciliation, not division: orange and green, unionist and nationalist, brought together, the white of peace between them.
I’m not some raging republican – all that stuff cools down or even fades away as you get older – and I’m not even saying that Irish people should fly their flag. But I am saying that being ashamed of it, while hoisting those of others, is childish, illogical and psychologically weird.
And I do know who I am, I think, and don’t feel remotely embarrassed about it, and really wish that more Irish people felt the same. It’s possible to love a nation with little sense of itself, but it’s very hard to respect it.
Darragh McManus, author and journalist 
Leave a comment