The Left's Patriotism Problem 2

The Brexit Paradox

The profound paradox of the Left and patriotism culminated in the Brexit referendum — a political and emotional earthquake that we are still living with. The tragedy is that the Left had a perfectly good reason to leave the EU. For decades, many on the Left, from Tony Benn to Arthur Scargill, had argued that the European Economic Community (and later the EU) was fundamentally a neoliberal project. They argued it was a rich man’s club designed to protect corporate power, prevent the nationalisation of key industries through strict state aid rules, undermine a government’s ability to enact socialist policies, and put the NHS at risk through treaties like the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership (TTIP). This was the original “Lexit” position — a critique based not on xenophobia, but on a desire to empower a democratic, sovereign parliament to control its own economy for the benefit of its people.

The Lexit vision was never isolationist. It was about leaving a neoliberal bloc while retaining solidarity. It was a project that combined national democratic renewal with internationalist socialist values.

Of course, many on the left genuinely supported EU membership - seeing it as protection for workers' rights, environmental standards, and human rights. This wasn't unreasonable. But when the referendum came, both wings of the left - Eurosceptic and pro-EU - made the same fatal error: both allowed the other side to define what "leave" meant.

And then came the referendum. The campaign slogan that cut through it all was “Take Back Control.” For the Left, this should have been a dream slogan. It speaks to a fundamental socialist desire: to wrest control from unaccountable forces and place it in the hands of the people. It’s about democratic accountability and popular sovereignty. But the Left abandoned it.

Why? Because the face of “Take Back Control” became Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson. The message was hijacked and repackaged for a xenophobic, anti-immigrant agenda. The Left, in its usual knee-jerk reaction, decided that those who voted for this slogan must be a racist and a fool. It stopped listening to the working-class voters in its own heartlands who were using “Take Back Control” to voice legitimate anger at feeling powerless, ignored, and left behind.

Instead of leading the charge for a left-wing Brexit, a position many had advocated for years, Labour — under Jeremy Corbyn — adopted a weak, ambivalent stance that satisfied nobody. Corbyn himself came from the Bennite tradition of EU scepticism, but under pressure from within his party he fronted a lukewarm campaign for Remain. It was an opportunity to connect with Leave-voting working-class communities in the North and Midlands, to show that Labour could articulate a patriotic and internationalist Brexit — but that case was never made. His later shift towards supporting a second referendum was seen by many as a betrayal of their democratic decision.

The consequences were devastating. By refusing to lead, the Left allowed Brexit to be owned entirely by the Right. Once again, as with the flag, the Left abandoned a powerful language of sovereignty and control, and then acted surprised when it was monopolised by reactionary forces. The result was the collapse of trust in Labour across its former strongholds, and the catastrophic defeat of 2019.

Arthur Scargill warned in early 2019, when Jeremy Corbyn refused to engage in talks with the government unless “no deal” was taken off the table, this was not just a tactical error but “an act of betrayal of both socialist principle and a betrayal of the democratic vote of the British people and the 60 per cent of Labour constituencies who voted to leave the European Union.” Scargill, who had for decades shared platforms with Benn and Corbyn, saw this shift as a disowning of everything the Labour left had once stood for: trust in the people, respect for democracy, and the conviction that sovereignty was essential to socialist transformation.

The 2019 election should have been the reckoning. Labour’s equivocation left millions of working-class voters feeling ignored and insulted, while the Conservatives presented themselves — however cynically — as the champions of the people’s voice. By abandoning the ground of patriotism and democratic principle, the Left left a vacuum that was filled by Johnson’s nationalism. And here lies the wider danger: when the Left refuses to speak the language of patriotism, the far right will always step in with xenophobia and nationalism. People want to feel heard, respected, and represented. If the Left refuses to reclaim patriotism on the basis of solidarity, democracy, and justice, then the far right will continue to weaponise it for exclusion and division. 

Ahmad Baker 

The Left and Patriotism

The Left's Patriotism Problem

When the Daily Mail branded Ralph Miliband "the man who hated Britain," they revealed something profound about how patriotism gets weaponised in this country. Here was a Jewish refugee who fled Nazi persecution, served Britain in the Royal Navy, and spent his academic career fighting to make British democracy more just and equitable. Yet because he was a leftist who dared critique empire and power, he was cast as a Britain-hater. 

This is the trap the Left has walked into for decades. By instinctively recoiling from the English flag, the Union Jack, the monarchy, or anything that feels like a claim to national identity, we've allowed the Right to define what loving Britain means. And their definition is remarkably narrow: uncritical loyalty, historical amnesia, and the equation of patriotism with empire nostalgia.

The Left's gut reaction is rooted in history. Flags were waved to send working-class boys to die in imperialist wars; they flew over colonial outposts and provided the backdrop for ruling-class propaganda. Socialists believed true solidarity was internationalist. Patriotism became interchangeable with nationalism—a dirty word, a tool of division designed to undermine community and working-class unity.

But walking away from national symbols has proved a strategic disaster. The St George's flag is now solely owned by those who use it to stir hatred, to equate being English with being anti-immigrant, to sell a version of history that's pure pomp and empire without mention of those who fought against it. We've ceded the emotional ground and then wondered why we can't connect with people's deepest attachments.

"Be a citizen of the world, not just your country," the Left often tells people. Meanwhile, the far right flies the flag from rooftops and claims to speak for "ordinary people." This is the profound paradox: we abandon the language of patriotism then act surprised when it's used for nationalism.

Yet the flag isn't a single, unchangeable thing. It holds a dual history—oppression, yes, but also resistance and defiance. The suffragettes didn't shun the Union Jack; they marched with it as they demanded the vote, not rejecting Britain but demanding it live up to its promise. The anti-fascists at Cable Street waved it against Mosley's blackshirts, declaring this nation would not be defined by racial hatred.

Many struggle with British patriotism because they conflate the country with its government's actions, past and present. This sensitivity is shared by few nations—perhaps only Germany wrestles similarly with national pride. Most countries express patriotism regardless of who's in charge or what's in their history. Yet in Britain, we're comfortable celebrating Welsh, Scottish, and Irish identity while recoiling from English or British pride.

The same paradox plays out today. The British government's complicity in Palestinian suffering is shameful—yet the British public has filled London's streets with the largest pro-Palestine marches in Europe. That's Britain too. But you won't see Union Jacks at those marches; they fly instead at counter-protests. We've abandoned the flag to those who equate patriotism with supporting every government policy.

But patriotism needn't mean blind loyalty to government, monarchy, or empire. It needn't mean military parades or uncritical obedience. True patriotism is loyalty to the people of this country—their dignity, their future, their wellbeing. It's commitment to making the nation live up to its highest ideals. As Orwell put it, it's the instinct of ordinary people to side with fairness over cruelty.

Fighting for better housing, healthcare, wages, and democracy for British people—that's patriotism in action. Ralph Miliband spent his life trying to improve Britain; that made him a patriot, not a hater. To reject the flag altogether is to abandon any chance of redefining what it represents.

Keir Hardie concluded his famous 1914 speech with a promise of "the sunshine of Socialism and human freedom breaking forth upon our land." That sounds like national pride to me—pride in Britain becoming a beacon of justice.

The tension between left-wing politics and patriotism is real, but it's not insoluble. History shows the two can coexist—and perhaps must, if the Left is ever to reclaim the emotional and moral ground it has long ceded to the Right. It's time to fly the flag without asterisks, to speak of loving Britain without caveats. Because if we don't, the far right will continue to own the argument—and that's a battle we can't afford to lose.

Ahmad baker