Falling Into a Flag

Recently, I saw a group of protestors who were standing under a flag, and I thought: "That flag means nothing to them. It's just a token, a statement that they are on one side of a controversy and not another."

And then I thought: "Well, isn't that true of every flag? Isn't every flag just a statement of some kind?

This thought, although it was my own, somewhat surprised me. The truth is that all my life I've thought of flags as more than symbols. I've thought of them as abstract worlds, like a Mondrian painting. As though you could fall into a flag endlessly.

As though a flag represented not only a piece of land or a political cause, but a whole reality of its own. Not just a State, but a state.

This applies not only to flags, but all political and religious symbols.

This impression is subtle but incredibly strong. I've always felt that whenever anyone explicitly aligns themselves with some kind of cause or way of life, they've drawn on an infinite power source.

Some years ago, in Ireland, there was some kind of public awareness campaign that revolved around a number. I forget what it was for, or even which number it was. But one ad showed a famous sports star raising his hand, with the number written on his open palm. He wasn't smiling or looking at the camera. It was such a potent image that it seemed to divide my mind into two warring halves-- one knew it was just a silly ad, the other thought it must have some deeper and even infinite meaning.

(No, I don't follow Jonathan Pageau. I probably should.)