In Northern Ireland, even a game of bowls can’t escape the “politics of gesture”. The latest row involves the Ulster Banner and its role at the 2026 Commonwealth Games in Glasgow. For a brief moment this week, it looked as though the flag was out, set to be replaced by a corporate logo after Commonwealth Games NI (CGNI) complained that the banner wasn’t “reflective or inclusive” of all athletes.
However, the “status quo” has won the day. Following a sharp intervention from Communities Minister Gordon Lyons, who provided “clear and unequivocal guidance” that the flag should stay, CGNI performed a swift U-turn. They’ve now confirmed the Ulster Banner will remain the official symbol for the team.
This highlights the exhausting “zero-sum” nature of our symbolic landscape. To some, the banner is a “sectarian relic” of a defunct government; to others, it’s a benign sporting shorthand used by everyone from golfers to the GAWA. When CGNI tried to dodge the issue by using a logo, they were met with bricks through windows and political fury.
It’s a classic case of the “monolithic” argument: the idea that you can’t honour one identity without insulting another. While politicians bicker over pieces of cloth, our athletes are left in the middle. Authentic respect shouldn’t need a ministerial directive, but in a place where we still struggle to find a common civic flag, it seems we’d rather cling to the familiar than navigate the “unintended consequences” of change.
One of the problems we have is that in this digital age is that 90% of platform users never share their own ideas, which gives the loudest and hardest to avoid a near carte blanche in terms of shaping many public debates. No one doubts that the Council was acting honestly and sincerely in responding to genuine lobbying from people who genuinely don’t like the banner. That’s fine, but a more generative response would be to turn the question back on them and ask them what they would like in its place.
So there is a strong case for a new flag—something that reflects the diverse, shared reality of modern Northern Ireland rather than marking out territory and the Council was on to something. But we have to remain realistic: in a place where symbols are weaponised, any new design would likely be born in rancour. Change takes time, work and unending committment of the kind shown over time by the Northern Irish football supporters and the campaign to clean up NI football led by Michael Boyd.
We’ve seen it with this Commonwealth Games row: when you try to swap a “sectarian relic” for a “bland corporate logo” through a bureaucratic process, you just end up with more bickering and ministerial interventions. Without a genuine, ground-up shift in heart, any “official” change will just be another gesture that satisfies no one and offends everyone.
Mick is founding editor of Slugger. He has written papers on the impacts of the Internet on politics and the wider media and is a regular guest and speaking events across Ireland, the UK and Europe. Twitter: @MickFealty
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