Oxfordshire council seeks injunction over flags tied to lamp-posts across county

To flag or not to flag – that is suddenly the dilemma for every England football fan.

The 2026 World Cup is the first international football tournament since the inception last summer of the contentious Raise the Colours movement, a tacky ad hoc campaign to affix the cross of St George to lamp posts and bridges across the country.

The anti-immigration protest continues to have a visible – many would say disfiguring – impact on villages and city suburbs alike; stirring the hearts of some, but frightening others. Some councils have banned the flags as “an act of intimidation and division”. One of the movement’s founders has recently been charged with murder, following a fight in a pub.

Awkwardly, now is the very moment in the global football calendar when many of us want to back the national team by displaying the national flag from our balconies and windows . It has become a tradition – notably, in places such as the Kirby estate in south London – which is already smothered in St George’s crosses to signal support for Thomas Tuchel’s boys, maintaining a ritual that began at the 2012 Euros.

But in this febrile atmosphere of anti-migrant riots in cities across Britain, how can you tell a fan from a flagger ?

A fight is going on for the England flag – and football has become a key battle ground. That makes sense. The game is the favourite pastime for a great many white working-class Englishmen, the demographic most targeted by far-right politicians.

Battle lines are drawn . On one side, Tuchel’s diverse squad is championed as the future of England by a group of former players who are unafraid to speak out in favour of building a society that is compassionate and welcoming.

Gareth Southgate, former England manager, appeared last week as presenter of a thoughtful and pragmatic BBC documentary designed to improve the life chances of Britain’s young men and boys . He is also the subject of a BBC drama, Dear England , which reminds us how he transformed the once toxic culture of the England dressing room and moulded a team that made all England fans proud to wave the national flag during his time in charge.

Former Match of the Day host and England striker Gary Lineker, who is covering this World Cup on Netflix, combines footballing insights with consistent advocacy for the rights of refugees.

Ian Wright, an ITV pundit for this tournament, is another brave voice, willing to criticise Donald Trump’s White House for presiding over a “World Cup of chaos”, after Iranian supporters and a Somali referee were denied entry to the United States. Wright’s ITV colleague, Gary Neville, once a stalwart for England at right-back, has spoken out about flags being used in a “negative fashion” in his hometown of Manchester.

These lions wore the England shirt with distinction – and their past roles as sporting ambassadors give authority to their words.

On the opposing side of this struggle to define the meaning of a red cross on a white background is a gaggle of political opportunists with dubious credentials in the national game. Their idea of the flag of St George – and who it belongs to – is far more exclusive.

Rupert Lowe, leader of Restore Britain, is a former chairman of Southampton FC, which suffered significant financial struggles during his tenure. Activist Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, who co-founded the English Defence League, has adopted the pseudonym of a notorious football hooligan, Tommy Robinson.

Reform UK leader Nigel Farage, who is more of a cricket fan, recently visited Ipswich Town and made a political video in which he held up a team shirt printed with “Farage 10”, prompting an apology from the club for the “harm and distress” caused. Farage’s Reform colleague, Robert Jenrick, has actively supported Raise The Colours, videoing himself scaling a lamp post to fly a flag.

Football fans are diverse in their political views. Unquestionably, there are many for whom Reform’s policies resonate. They would not have the slightest compunction in flying a flag from their home during this World Cup.

But I feel more conflicted. I have been going to club football since I was six-years-old and have watched England at Wembley on numerous occasions. At their best, the fans that follow the Three Lions are second-to-none. But there is a history of a minority of England supporters being linked to far-right groups. It dates back to the 1970s – and was at its worst with the Dublin riot of 1995. The abuse of black England players after the Euros in 2021 was also despicable.

When I attended the World Cups in South Africa and Brazil in 2010 and 2014, I went to be part of the international jamboree of football, watching miscellaneous teams from Japan to the Ivory Coast and only supporting England remotely. The weird nationalism of some England fans, dressing up as crusaders or in a pith helmet as Lieutenant Bromhead (Michael Caine’s character in Zulu ), is not for me.

And yet I do find myself wanting to raise the colours for Engla…