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
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