The men who raised the flags
Nigel Farage says this summer’s movement was led by ‘ordinary people’ expressing their patriotism. That’s not what we found.
Plenty of people have been moved by the display of flags, and have reciprocated by hanging outside their homes and in their gardens. It’s obviously not the case that everyone involved in the Raise the Flags movement has a criminal history or holds extreme views. In Salford, we met a woman called Pauline who said she was concerned about “racists jumping on the bandwagon” but she broadly felt it was “fair enough” if people wanted to hang up patriotic flags. This seemed pretty sensible, and presumably close to the dominant public sentiment.
And yet, it is striking how many of the key players we have looked into — the people who have gone out of their way to put up hundreds of flags — seem
anything but ordinary. In my experience, most people do not share overtly racist social media posts; they do not have criminal records for people smuggling or involvement in racist crimes. But time and again, our reporters — and others looking into this — have found key flag raisers with these kinds of CVs.
The Weoley Warriors, on the face of things, were the kind of ordinary patriots Farage describes: led by a 45-year-old electrician called Sean Doolan.
This is where it gets a bit confusing, though. While the Warriors appear to be ground zero in Birmingham, two other men soon surfaced claiming to be the original flaggers: businessmen Ryan Bridge and Elliot Stanley. The duo appeared on GB News in late September to tell the story of one of their flagging outings in the Stirchley neighbourhood.
Kate and Samuel started taking a closer look at Bridge and Stanley. The latter, it turned out, is the previous director of Sex Doll Official, a company selling customised sex dolls that Stanley ran with his wife and 17-year-old son (a short documentary about the company opens with the fantastic line: “it’s not every day you have a sex doll in your lounge with your 17-year-old”). The former, meanwhile, has also made headlines in the past: a story in the Mirror reports that Bridge was investigated by Spanish police for his role in a scam where a group of Brits allegedly made bogus compensation claims for food poisoning to hotels in Majorca.
Take Bootle, just north of Liverpool, where several dozen flags appeared at the end of September. I contacted Paul Walters, the leader of a loyalist flute band who claimed responsibility for many of the flags, and he told me his motivation was simple: “because I’m British no other reason”.
But a quick scroll of his social media accounts tells a familiar story: videos of people blackening their faces with charcoal, to which Walters comments: “only way you’re getting a new house these days”. He also shares conspiracy theories that the man who drove his car into a crowd of Liverpool fans at a parade in May was actually not white and British (the man charged with the offence is indeed white British).
What about in Scotland? At the end of August, a group of self-described “young dads” began heading out into north Glasgow and hanging Saltires on lampposts. They called themselves the Tartan Team and said the movement had nothing to do with immigration: rather they were protesting “politicians and councillors” who were presiding over a crumbling public realm and ever-worsening living conditions. Nevertheless, Saltire-raisers earned the approval of Tommy Robinson, who shared images of their work online.
On the face of things, it did seem this movement was of a different flavour to its English counterpart. That is, until the team at
The Bell, Robbie Armstrong and Calum Grewar, started
looking into Kieran Logan, the man who started the fundraiser to buy new flags. And on the evidence of his social media posts, Logan’s politics were pretty extreme.
He had replied to a video allegedly showing a fight between asylum seekers in Spain by saying “gas them all”. He also shared a video claiming “the answer for America lies… in Germany with a man named Adolf”.
Holmes recently draped a 100-foot-wide, £3000 Union Jack across a large, empty former council building that he owns in the area. Holmes’s enormous flag is a response to Chesterfield Council’s opposition to his previous flag, humbler in size at 30 feet long (which was unfortunately ripped to shreds by Storm Amy).
Holmes found the suggestion that he was in any way racist outrageous.
The Tribune team in Sheffield sent Mollie Simpson
along to meet him. Conducting an interview in the back of his Land Rover Defender (with a flagpole on the back of the vehicle), he made similar protestations about people who had accused him of racism and graffitied “Nazi” on the side of his building.
When we raised the fact that Holmes recently shared a Facebook post calling for “all mosques in the UK to be shut down” he responded initially with denial. “I don’t think I posted that. Did I?” he replied. Holmes quickly changed course, admitting that he may have. “I maybe did. I did. I maybe did a repost.”
Our story about Lee Twamley — the man who inspired our nationwide quest to track down the flaggers was picked up by the national press, including the Daily Mail, who printed his hilarious excuse for his criminality: that he was actually smuggling the Vietnamese migrants into the country to work as labourers on cannabis farms, so they wouldn’t be leeching off the state like the immigrants he was protesting. Twamley was even covered overseas, where the Dutch newspaper NRC kindly tried to translate his voicemails to me for their readers: “Yo is
dit Jack the big, daft, fat fudging weird looking leftie
ladies front bottom?”
Wherever we looked for the prominent flaggers and leaders of this movement, we found people smugglers and sex doll salesmen, people with dubious criminal pasts and people willing to put in a good word for Adolf Hitler. Farage told us the flag-raisers were just ordinary folk sticking it to the system. A few months worth of local journalism later, that now looks like a shaky claim.