Can We Take the Union Jack Back?

Written by Lily Mae Begley

Wearing a Union Jack in Britain today can feel surprisingly complicated. When we wear one, we inherit everything that has been attached to it before us: its history, its victories, its violence, its politics and the people who have claimed it as their own.

Once a familiar symbol of British youth culture, music and fashion, it can now inherit decades of political associations that make even wearing the flag feel like a statement. In a current fragmented debate over immigration and national identity, red, white and blue can be read as more than colours and rather a declaration of who Britain belongs to.

The Union Jack has never had one fixed meaning. It was first created as a symbol of political union in 1606, before becoming entangled with darker debates over post-war immigration. It was adopted by British subcultures in the 1970’s as a symbol of rebellion rather than exclusion. Its history is therefore not simply one of nationalism, but of a constant struggle over who gets to define Britishness.

From Anarchy to the Atelier.

In the 1970s, fashion icons Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren helped transform the flag from a conventional national emblem into something deliberately confrontational. Within the world of punk, Westwood placed British symbols alongside ripped fabrics, safety pins, provocative slogans and deliberately distorted silhouettes, turning familiar images of Britishness into a form of anti-establishment satire. Wearing the Union Jack did not necessarily mean declaring loyalty to the British establishment; in Westwood's world, it could almost mean the opposite. Britishness could be celebrated and criticised simultaneously, and fashion became the space in which those contradictions could exist.

Westwood's influence also helped establish the Union Jack as a graphic language, moving from punk subcultures into the highest levels of fashion. Alexander McQueen was one of the designers who demonstrated just how dramatically British symbolism could be transformed within couture. His work repeatedly explored British history, class, power, violence and national identity, taking references that could have appeared traditional and making them unsettling and often deliberately provocative. The Union Jack had moved from the streets into the fashion establishment, so British identity could now exist within couture as something highly crafted while still carrying questions about power, history and belonging.

Cool Britannia.

By the 1990s, the mood had changed, and the idea of “Britishness” was arguably encountered through pop culture significantly more than politically. The rebellious symbolism of the previous decades had gradually been absorbed into mainstream culture, and Britain entered an era that became known as Cool Britannia. Britpop, British fashion, London nightlife, and a new generation of British artists and celebrity culture created a vision of Britain that felt creative and culturally relevant. At the 1997 BRIT Awards, Spice Girl Geri Halliwell stepped onto the stage in a Union Jack dress that would become one of the most iconic fashion moments of the decade. Created by adapting a Gucci dress with a Union Jack tea towel, the look became so synonymous with the era that the dress itself is now remembered as a symbol of British culture. The significance of that moment continued into the 2000s, and the flag had begun to detach itself from its formal political function and become something that could be consumed as an aesthetic. 

The Union Jack increasingly became part of a wider visual vocabulary of Britishness, appearing alongside tartan, military references, royal imagery, London iconography, football and heritage fashion. This is what makes its contemporary political associations so complicated, as a generation can inherit a symbol culturally before it understands the political meanings that have subsequently, or simultaneously, been attached to it.

The battle over “Britishness”.

Today, the Union Jack carries a more politically complicated meaning. Brexit intensified debates around British sovereignty and national identity, while its growing use alongside nationalist and anti-immigration movements has made the flag increasingly difficult to separate from those conversations.

Since 2025, campaigns such as Raise the Colours and the political party Reform UK have encouraged the widespread display of Union Jack flags appearing on lamp posts, streets, roundabouts and other public spaces across England. While the campaign describes itself as an expression of patriotism and national pride, it is closely associated with opposition to immigration and asylum accommodation. The use of the Union Jack in this manner creates a hostile atmosphere in which the imagery communicates something more exclusionary, inevitably affecting how the flag is perceived beyond political demonstrations. Far-right rhetoric often frames immigration and multiculturalism as threats to national identity, argues that Britain should be preserved for a particular idea of who is “British”, and presents national pride as something that must be protected from different cultures. 

When the Union Jack is repeatedly used alongside these messages, anti-immigration protests or nationalist campaigns, its meaning begins to change. Someone wearing or displaying the flag may be perceived to others as supporting far-right or anti-immigration politics due to the new context surrounding the symbol, even when that was never their intention to carry an assumption of political allegiance.

The return of patriotism.

As anti-immigration rhetoric and nationalist imagery have become increasingly visible, social media has also seen a counter-response and national imagery has recently experienced a cultural resurgence. Events such as Euro 2024 and the FIFA World Cup 2026 brought football shirts and national colours into everyday street style, while TikTok’s “Euro summer” trend turned travelling around Europe (particularly to London) into an aspirational aesthetic. Alongside it came a revival of Y2K British fashion: Union Jack baby tees, vintage football shirts and distressed flag prints began circulating through online streetwear and nostalgia culture.


Crucially, at the centre of this shift was British artist PinkPantheress. Her aesthetic draws heavily on British musical and visual nostalgia from the 1990s and 2000s, creating a version of Britishness that feels playful and culturally proud rather than politically exclusionary. Her use of British imagery has helped make patriotism feel accessible to a generation that has grown increasingly conscious of how national symbols can be politicised. Notably, at the 2026 Grammys, she wore an archival Vivienne Westwood gown printed with a degraded Union Jack, prompting British Vogue to suggest a possible new Cool Britannia revival. It was a striking example of how British iconography can move back into fashion and youth culture without necessarily carrying a political message, while also reminding us that patriotism does not have to belong to the political right.

Can the flag ever be reclaimed? 

Completely reclaiming the Union Jack from far-right rhetoric may be impossible. Symbols gather meaning as they move through culture, and after years of appearing alongside anti-immigration protests and nationalist politics, the flag can now communicate something its wearer never intended.

But the idea of protecting an “original” British culture is perhaps the greater contradiction since Britain has never been culturally pure or static. Caribbean, South Asian, Irish and African communities have shaped its music, fashion, food, art, literature, sport and popular culture, and much of what we recognise as British today was created through movement, migration and exchange.

And there is something almost poetic about the irony. The Union Jack itself was born from union: different nations brought together within a single symbol. To insist that Britishness must be protected from outside influence is to overlook the very history the flag represents. It was built from difference, and so was Britain.

Written by Lily Mae Begley

Lily Mae Begley
Previous

The Power of Silence
Next

Fashion’s Rebellion Against Traditional Femininity