Beyond Borders: reimagining flags in the digital age

Flags are everywhere, yet unlike traditional images, they always signal a certain set of shared beliefs and values about nation-states, national identity, and political ideologies. For Roland Barthes, flags are an example of a myth, socially constructed narratives that assert a certain picture of the world. By changing the context, one can change the effects of myth—like how the pride flag shows solidarity in one context, yet a hyper-capitalist marketing tool in another. At the same time, myth itself participates in the creation of an ideology. Right now, President Trump is plotting to plant the American flag on Mars, presumably as a show of military and geopolitical strength.

In contrast, the Palestinian flag has become a universal symbol of anti-imperialist resistance, waved at protests and worn as a pin, digitised as an emoji and reproduced on gaming platforms such as Roblox. Almost always, it has been systematically censored both on and off-screen, banned at public gatherings across Europe, and blocked by social media algorithms. Yet the myth persists, seizing the dominant narratives pushed by Western media.

Histories of flags date back to Ancient Egypt when armies would use figures of sacred animals as field signs to set them apart from their opponents, while the oldest known flag was found in Iran and dates back to 2400 BC. In the mid-15th century, flags began to be used on board ships for identification. Later on, they became adopted by people who wished to identify themselves with nation states, which is what we most commonly associate them with now.

In the online world, however, flags have taken on a new role as identity play for a generation of Zoomers trying to make sense of today’s relentless digital landscape. Take, for instance, artist Joshua Citarella’s e-deologies [2023] series featuring a selection of physical flags, each representing a particular type of hyper-online ideology adopted by young people on social media—think Anarcho-Pacifist Egoism, Arab Communism, and Queer Anarcho-Primitivism. As Citarella puts it, “These hyper-specific categories serve as a gamified form of identity play and niche personal branding in the chaotic landscape of online politics.”

Fast forward to now, the seemingly infinite reproduction of niche ideologies is as much a reflection of online culture as it is an indicator of a deeper desire for community. Internet subcultures themselves have shifted, too, from niche political identities to mostly aesthetic tribes guided by the invisible hand of the TikTok algorithm. Trends are accelerating so fast that they’ve become impossible to follow, transcending their symbolic meaning into pure affect and digested as intangible aura points lost to the eternal scroll. To resist these techno-capitalist currents, which direct our attention, requires a real effort. To make a myth, the sign itself is used as a signifier, and a new meaning is added, which is the signified. 

Like the concept of artist Mike Kelley’s myth-science, we can use artistic practice to deconstruct dominant social myths and replace them with new ones. This is the idea behind the following project, a collaboration between Dazed MENA and students from VCUarts Qatar, who were tasked with designing flags based on a particular subculture of their choosing. The work aims to undermine the flag’s symbolic meaning, reimagining it to exist beyond borders to encompass the multitude of microcultures and identities that exist online today. Because it matters what flag you choose to fly.

LOVESCOPE BY JANA BISHR

This flag combines themes of womanhood, retro pop culture, and the phenakistoscope (a historic device tied to motion and visual storytelling). “I wanted this flag to represent the strength, creativity and beauty of women, while adding a colourful and expressive colour palette of retro aesthetics,” says Bishr. The spiral represents a woman’s journey through life, whereas the doves are a symbol of peace amid the constantly changing elements of a woman’s life.

LOW-POLY OASIS BY YASMIN ALHAIDARI

Inspired by the charm of Y2K Nintendo aesthetics, Low-Poly Oasis is a celebration of Arab culture and its familiar tropes such as sipping coffee, sand duning, or simply taking a break under a palm tree. These everyday customs are rendered as low-poly pixelated scenes to pay respect to the online exchange of these activities through social media channels. “This approach not only preserves cultural identity, but also reinvents it in a modern nostalgic aesthetic, creating a vibrant and relatable visual language for a futuristic subculture celebrating Arab creativity and humour,” explains Alhaidari.

DIGITAL DECAY BY SRUTHI SUBASH

Shining a nostalgic lens on early online references such as ‘Peanut Butter Jelly Time’, ‘Tom from Myspace’, and Web1 gaming site Flash Player, Digital Decay acknowledges the inevitable disappearance of digital memories on third-party platforms. “In this fast-paced age of growth, memes that were once cherished will become irrelevant faster than ever,” reflects Subash. “All these elements are depicted as being sucked into the void, where their relevance is lost forever, with the error tab giving the viewer no choice but to watch it disappear.”

PRIVPUNK BY ANASTASIA MARINOVA

PrivPunk is a speculative subculture centred around growing tech anxiety and fears of surveillance. It seeks to challenge the ongoing intrusion of technology in our everyday lives, and advocates for personal autonomy in both the online and offline realms through encrypted networks, anonymous messaging boards, and algospeak to avoid captcha. “PrivPunk stands as a rebellion against the normalisation of constant visibility, offering a community for individuals to reject systems that prioritise surveillance and data collection over freedom and self-expression.”

ZAMOUR W OUD BAND BY ASMA MLISAN

Zamour w Oud is a futuristic virtual band made up of Syrian taxi drivers who spend their days singing in their yellow cabs, often decked out in neon lights, furry seat covers, bobbleheads and other fun, miscellaneous objects. “These taxi drivers have created a distinct style for themselves and are always seen with a very welcoming, kind and playful attitude,” says Mlisan. “This virtual band was created to represent Syrian taxi drivers and their line of work, which has contributed to Syrian culture and the country over the past few decades.”

SCROLL CHRIVO BY AIMAN MOHAMMED

This flag imagines a speculative future where short-form content such as TikToks, Vines, and Instagram Reels are considered lost media, with the Scroll Chrivro community acting as digital archaeologists, excavating these lost memories – memes, microtrends, viral songs – as key historical insights into the early 21st century. “Even a six-second Vine or fleeting TikTok trend reflects cultural attitudes, shared humour, and global experiences,” explains Mohammed. “These short bursts of creativity are seen as the equivalent of oral storytelling in digital form—fast, personal, and deeply meaningful in hindsight.”

PIRATE ARCHIVISTS BY MINATUALLAH AL ASWAD

LimeWire enthusiasts, this one’s for you. Drawing inspiration from early hackers and Web1 file-sharing apps, this flag is dedicated to the thousands of anonymous archivists who spend their time downloading and archiving all the treasured content that might otherwise get banished to the pits of the internet’s junkyard. “Pirate Archivists believe that access is a fundamental right, and that knowledge should not be,” explains Al Aswad.

YABUJIN JUMPSTYLE BY TEHREEM FATIMA

Yabujin, also known as jumpstyle, is a niche internet movement that combines edits of jumpstyle, a type of high-energy dance from the Y2K rave scene, usually paired with chaotic electronic music and retro aesthetics. The yabujin community thrives on platforms like TikTok and Discord, offering a virtual space for fans of hardstyle music and pure, unpolished expression.

Originally published in Dazed MENA Issue 01 | Order Here