A piece of cloth waving in the sky may not seem like the most controversial event in the 21st century, but the question of which one flies is anything but trivial. Flags have never been a neutral decoration, nor have they been apolitical. Historically, flags have marked territories, declared allegiances, and established power. From national identity to the college crest, flags do not simply represent a community – they define it. So, when an institution insists their banners are merely traditional, and not political, they misunderstand the very history of the symbols they defend.

Gonville and Caius’ recent decision to withhold from flying a Pride flag this month, LGBT+ History Month, illustrates the misjudgement of a flag’s power. Despite 200 students voting in favour of flying the Pride flag, the proposal failed to meet the College’s strict turnout policy. For this reason, Caius continues to fly solely their college flag this month. Though this tight voting process exists at Caius as a result of student democracy, the College has a strong history of prioritising tradition over social progress. In 2022, fellows agreed to ban the flying of any other flag apart from the College’s. Although this motion was quickly reversed, its message remains clear. For many, flags still exist solely to preserve institutional power and tradition, rather than to offer solidarity.

Yet the Caius controversy is not only a simple issue about turnout thresholds. It exposes a deeper assumption that preserving the college crest grants them neutrality, whereas another flag would imply political intervention. But the historic use of flags demonstrates that whatever you choose to display (or hide) will inherently be political – and I don’t think this is something we should fear.

“For many, flags still exist solely to preserve institutional power and tradition, rather than to offer solidarity”

We shouldn’t shy away from political views and discussions when we live in a time of such political uncertainty. The only way to progress as a society is if we are able to have healthy and open discussions, even if people’s opinions don’t align. Thus, to fly solely a college flag feels like an easy way to retreat into the comfort of apoliticism. To claim that a flag can be neutral suggests that it speaks for everyone, but college crests inherently represent histories shaped by privilege, hierarchy, and exclusion. These symbols can be neither timeless nor apolitical, which is okay as long as we accept that truth.

College pride is essential to the collegiate system in Cambridge since it creates a firm sense of identity and community within an institution that can often feel intimidating and impersonal. Therefore, I’m certainly not advocating for a removal of college flags, nor do I think Caius should be ashamed of their traditional history. In the same way we should find pride in our national flag, colleges should embrace their crest and identity.

“Do they risk entering an endless cycle of symbolic demands?”

However, we should embrace our college pride whilst also celebrating and including other communities. Pembroke, for example, has committed to flying the Rainbow Pride flag this year alongside the four Patron Saint flags, showing that different symbols can be placed together to unite the student body. St. Catz have a range of flags that they fly depending on the occasion, including the Union Flag on the King’s birthday and the Bahamian Flag during Black History Month. Despite committing to multiple flags, both colleges still fly their college flag to mark important events. On degree days, bumps, and reunions, Catz will display their own flag while also making room for other communities. Their acceptance of multiple flags has not displaced their own: rather, it has expanded what their public symbolism can encompass.

Of course it can be argued that once colleges begin flying multiple flags, when does it end? Do they risk entering an endless cycle of symbolic demands? It could certainly be feared that, if colleges start to align themselves with possibly contentious movements, they overstep the mark as educational bodies. But this concern assumes that solidarity is inherently divisive. In reality, selecting additional recognised symbols, like the Pride flag, does not fragment institutional identity; it simply reflects the diversity already present within it. Symbolic acknowledgement does not require a college to abandon its traditions – it’s about embracing communities that already exist within their student and teaching body, and society as a whole.

A flag may only be fabric, but it carries the definitive weight of the story an institution chooses to tell about itself. We live in an increasingly polarised society, and to regard college flags as apolitical is ignorant to the fact that institutional silence is never neutral. Colleges are powerful establishments that shape political life through admissions, funding, and public reputation, so they can never be truly neutral civic spaces. Thus, the question is not whether a college is political itself, but what kind of politics it is prepared to embody. A crest honours centuries of history and tradition that individuals can be proud of, but they should also celebrate the people that today make up their student body. In a world that can often seem full of divisiveness and hostility, it is truly beautiful to see two flags flying together in solidarity, suggesting history and the present were never meant to compete.