Flags on the touch line

By Elizabeth Brooke-Carr in Articles

delightful and thoughtful reflections on the rugby celebrations

Flags on the touch line

Flags, bunting and banners have transformed our clean, green islands into a colourful theatre of celebration. Flapping and fluttering, from Cape Reinga to Stewart Island - on mountains, mansions, cottages, cribs, lighthouses and loos - sets the scene for a grand show. There are flags galore; stretched flat on walls and windows and wardrobes, painted on faces, and hoist on mental touchlines. Aotearoa New Zealand is in party mode. The Rugby World Cup has kicked off a playful level of patriotism in The Land of the Long White Cloud, with a floodtide of flags. (A local manufacturer says his staff has been 'run ragged' trying to keep up with the demand, filling orders for all manner of flags including those of the 'underdog' teams.)

In the recent history of our nation ANZAC day has tended to dominate flag flying events, often sombre occasions marked by the half-mast raising of the New Zealand Ensign and the Australian flag to honour our war dead. The flag of any nation is a symbol of respect. We fly it as a mark of esteem for others and to uplift ourselves. Desecration of the flag is an offensive act. Allegiance to it, instilled through education, caught or taught, is part of how we identify our cultural selves.

Every Monday morning in my early schooldays, the Bell Monitor stood on the top step, sharp at nine-o-clock, and rang the teacher's hand-held brass bell to call us into line. Our country schoolyard was also the tennis court and we assembled on the marked white lines, girls in front, boys behind, facing the flag. In lieu of a flagpole, (that came later) two Flag Monitors, chosen for their ability to stand staunch, each clutched a corner of the Union Jack, pulling it as taut as they could without tearing it apart. We waited for our teacher to call us to attention. When she commanded, 'School, salute!' we followed her lead, each holding a hand to brow for three strict seconds before dropping it stiffly to our side. Then we lifted our voices, in less concordant strains, to God Save The King.

After the final notes of the National Anthem had drifted away over the pony paddock next door, we trooped inside to begin the week's lessons while the Flag Monitors carefully rolled up the Union Jack until next Monday's unfurling. The Ink Monitor, whose hallmark was trust and reliability, had already filled the little ceramic inkwells in the desks and made sure there was plenty of chalk on the blackboard ledges. But before we settled into Reading, Writing and Arithmetic there was another monitoring ritual, 'Hands on Handkerchief', a fingernail inspection by our teacher. Her aim, nay, her bounden duty, was to fly another sort of flag - Cleanliness (which was next to Godliness) - and in the process to counter annoying sniffing. Make no mistake we were monitored to within an inch of our lives.

And would you believe it? Monitors are still alive and well, doing their duty in the 21st century. In this High Season of Celebration two staunch Flag Monitors stand on their individual touch lines, firm in their opposing views, with the fabric of nationhood stretched between them tight as a schoolmistress's lips. One, a businessman, 'incensed' to see a Maori flag flying at a local school, has sent emails objecting in very strong terms to the flag's presence in the community. He believes tino rangatiratanga has no place in our country because it sends 'mixed messages' about our cultural identity. 'We are all one people here and this division is not good for the country,' he says. The other, the school's Board of Trustees chairman, citing the cultural and national diversity he sees reflected in the school community, hopes the children will grow up in an atmosphere that not only represents but also actively celebrates that diversity. The clash between these two Flag Monitors touches on much deeper social, cultural and political tensions. But their disagreement also highlights the amazing power of flying the flag.

A flag, any flag, is much more than its patriotic message. In the current New Zealand climate the painted flags on gleeful faces, the wind-whipped flags on convoys of campervans, or the sweep and dip of home made flags in a buoyant crowd are intimately connected to mood. And the mood of the moment is celebration.

Of course it's important to keep the flag flying for social justice, in both real and metaphoric terms. But for now, for a little while at least, its time to loosen up a bit. Slap on some face paint, sidestep the issues that divide people and communities, and run with the emotional flutter and flap. Whether we're for the top dog or the underdog we can score by showing our true colours in this convivial theatre of celebration. And if we're not rugby fans we don't even have to go to a game. Just grab a flag and fly it.
Elizabeth Brooke-Carr