On November 11th, I posted this message on LinkedIn:
“Today is Armistice Day, and it’s right that we remember those people who gave their lives so that we shouldn’t have to live under fascist rule. It is also important to remember that in the 14-18 war as many civilians died as service personnel, and in World War 2, the number of civilians who died was more than double the number of service personnel. On Armistice Day, we remember them ALL.
Eighty years after WW2, we are seeing the rise of Fascism again. You may not realise it, but if you are raising the St George’s Cross for political reasons, because someone told you it was patriotic, you ARE a fascist.
Don’t kid yourself that ‘foreigners’ are ‘stealing’ your jobs, ‘threatening’ your family, or ‘burdening’ the health and welfare systems, and that raising the St George’s Cross is a message to them that they are not welcome – you are being manipulated to think that. These ideas are simply NOT true. The person telling you these things IS a fascist, and by following them, I am afraid that you are too.
Yes, let us remember ALL those who died. Wear a poppy – red, white, purple or a marigold – but at the same time, say “Never again, will we allow Fascism to threaten our peace.”
Division, anger, and militarism are NEVER the solution.”
I was challenged: “We can’t put everyone under the same banner. Some of us are genuinely patriotic and shouldn’t be demonised for it.”
This made me wonder two things: What does it mean to be ‘genuinely patriotic’ and am I patriotic?
What does it mean to be ‘genuinely patriotic’?
It helps to separate ‘patriotism’ from ‘patriot’.
Patriotism speaks to love of place and love of people. It rests on care for the land, the sky, the shared past, and the shared fate. It calls for a duty to each other. It shouldn’t call for blind trust in the state. It shouldn’t call for hate of those who live in other lands.
Some writers see the nation as a made up group held by shared stories and shared needs. Anderson shows how such groups form and gain force in the mind (Anderson 1983). This view helps us strip away myth. It lets us see that the bond is real because of our shared concern for a place, a community, or a culture, and not due to care, not due to blood or birth. This stance fits a civic frame that seeks wide trust and fair life.
To those of a left-leaning perspective, patriotism means you stand with all who live in that place. You fight for fair pay and fair care. You guard civil rights. You speak out when the state harms people with weak voices, who are vulnerable. You refuse the claim that the flag gives the state a right to harm. Love of land means you guard woods, farms, seas, and the lives held there. It means you face the climate threat with clear thought and bold plans.
Patriotism also means you name things that are wrong. You call for change when the state falls short. You hold that real love for home needs truth. You hold that truth needs free speech and a free press. You shape hope in the face of fear. You take part in the shared life of your street, town, and land. You help build trust across lines of class, race, and faith.
So patriotism is an ethic. It is not a plea for rage or war. It is a stance that links you to your neighbours through care, duty, and shared hope for a just home.
The appropriation of the term, ‘Patriot’
The word patriot once spoke of care for place and people. It held no fixed link to a wing of politics. The far right bent the word in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. They tied it to blood, land myth, and fear of the “other”. Academics trace this shift to the rise of ethnic nationalism in Europe. Hobsbawm shows how states built new rites that fed such views (Hobsbawm 1990). Mosse shows how the far right fused the word with race myth and war cult (Mosse 1991).
This trend grew strong after 1918. Many groups felt loss and rage. Far-right leaders framed that pain as proof that the nation stood at risk. They cast the patriot as the one who would “save” the land from traitors. They used the word to mark who counts and who does not. They prized showy rites. They mocked civic forms of care. In this phase, the word gained a sharp edge.
The shift spread in the late 20th century in the UK and US. Reagan and Thatcher used the term to back harsh cuts and strong rule. However, far-right groups then pushed it much further. Berlet and Lyons map how US far-right groups tied the word to white rule and fear of change (Berlet & Lyons 2000). In the UK, researchers note how groups like the BNP and later the EDL framed patriot as code for nativist rage (Goodwin 2011).
Since 2001, the word has faced new strain. Many states used it to back war acts. Far-right groups seized that frame. They cast doubt on the loyalty of whole groups. They painted protest as hate of the land. They bent the word to block fair talk on race, class, and green aims.
Yet the word remains open. Civic thinkers still steer it back to fair rule and shared care. They root it in broad duty, not in fear. The task is to claim the word with clear aims for all who live in that place.
So, being ‘genuinely patriotic’ calls for someone to identify strongly with a place, and care strongly for all those who live in it, or share the same respect for that place, without exceptions.
Am I patriotic?
You can be patriotic to any place that holds your sense of self and your will to care. The key is the ethic. You seek the good of those who share that place. You seek to guard the land that holds you. You place no bar on who may join that bond.
You can feel patriotic to a kind of place, not just to one set line on a map. The bond need not fix on one state. It can grow from shared life, shared aims, or shared feel. Anderson notes that groups form through tale and need, not just hard borders (Anderson 1983). That view gives space for wide forms of care.
I would name Europe, Oxford, Scotland, the countryside, and aspects of British society. Each holds a frame of life that shapes me. Some sit in set geopolitical spaces. Others sit in mind and in shared rite. Yet each can stir pride and duty. You can care for Europe as an experiment in democratic peace-making, and as a place where the excesses of urban impact on rural life has not been so visible. You can care for Oxford as a place of critical thinking. You can care for Scotland as a place with rich culture and where rural life is still possible. You can care for the countryside as a geographical wonderland. And, yes, personally, I am proud of what remains of our state-run systems – the NHS, the education system. None of these ties bar the rest.
This wide form of patriotism fits a civic and green stance. It gives room to hold more than one bond. It helps you see how place shapes life, yet on more than one scale. It frees you from a tight link to one flag. It cuts the far-right claim that the term must fix on one state or one group.
References
Anderson, B. (1983). Imagined Communities. Verso.
Berlet, C., & Lyons, M. (2000). Right-Wing Populism in America. Guilford.
Goodwin, M. (2011). New British Fascism. Routledge.
Hobsbawm, E. (1990). Nations and Nationalism since 1780. CUP.
Mosse, G. (1991). The Culture of Nationalism. Sage.
