On a sunny afternoon in late June in Essex, northeast of London, Flo Finch displayed a 5-foot by 3-foot English flag outside her home, emblazoned with the phrase “For Football Not Farage.” A passionate football fan, Finch sought to express support for England’s team at the World Cup while distancing the national flag from the anti-immigrant and nationalist messaging promoted by Nigel Farage’s Reform U.K. party and similar groups on the right.

England’s flag, known as the St. George’s flag, features a red cross on a white background and has become a common sight not only at sports events but also at far-right rallies and riots that have increased in recent years. For Finch and others like her, this association has made flying the flag a complex and sometimes contentious act. She has replaced her banner four times after it was torn down, underscoring the flag’s divisive symbolism amid rising nationalist sentiment in her county.

Reform U.K. gained control of Essex County Council for the first time following local elections in May, coinciding with more frequent displays of the St. George’s flag in the region, which Finch attributes to the growing influence of the party and the broader anti-immigrant movement. Her flag, posted on social media, attracted over a million views, sparking similar efforts by fans to customize England flags to reflect their views on identity and inclusion.

The debate over the flag’s meaning reflects broader tensions in Britain surrounding national identity and belonging. Joe Mulhall, director of research at the anti-racist group Hope Not Hate, described the controversy as part of a larger struggle over who is considered part of England’s national fabric. The St. George’s flag, once a simple symbol of English heritage, became more politically charged after the launch of “Operation Raise the Colours” last summer, a campaign initially organized by far-right activists to increase English flag visibility across the country.

Matt Goodwin, a former Reform U.K. candidate and political commentator, suggested that those displaying the flag felt marginalized by the establishment and sought to affirm Englishness as tied to ethnic identity and ancestry. Critics argue that these positions serve as coded language for exclusionary and nationalist views.

The campaign has lost some momentum, but the unauthorized placement of flags on public lampposts has caused friction with local authorities, who face challenges balancing freedom of expression with concerns about divisiveness. Farage has criticized council efforts to remove flags as unpatriotic, suggesting that those who oppose the flag should consider leaving the country.

Public opinion remains divided. A November YouGov poll found that most Britons viewed the English flag’s resurgence as a symbol of anti-migrant or anti-minority sentiment, with over half of ethnic minority respondents perceiving it as racist. Mulhall noted that notions of Englishness linked to “whiteness” are now common not only among far-right groups but also segments of the center right.

Amid these tensions, many football fans are striving to reclaim the flag as a unifying emblem of national pride and sporting spirit. In South London’s Kirby Estate, nearly every balcony was adorned with the St. George’s flag during major football tournaments, a tradition dating back to 2012. Resident Chris Dowse, a local recycling worker and event organizer, emphasized that for him and his community, the flag is about supporting the team and celebrating inclusivity rather than politics.

“Football’s friendly, it’s a bit of banter,” Dowse said, noting that the flag’s display here symbolizes a community-oriented patriotism that transcends ethnic or political divisions. “We don’t do politics.”